Skel Suit

As I walked through the dimly lit hallway, my heart was still racing, my breath uneven from the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed me in the last few hours. Then, my eyes flickered up, catching sight of the metal plaque bolted to the doorpost "Wing 1." A cold chill ran down my spine. My body went rigid as Otto’s letter flashed vividly in my mind, the words echoing as if he said it directly to my face "Room 316. Wing 2." No. No. No. No. Oh, God. A sickening wave of realization crashed over me, leaving me breathless. The man in the grey suit… He had smiled, nodded, and gestured me down this hallway. So confident. So sure. And like a fool, I had followed. I had made a mistake. A colossal, irreversible mistake. My stomach twisted violently as the truth settled in, thick and suffocating. I had entered the wrong wing. The wrong room. The wrong bed. I had given myself to a stranger. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else. The world tilted, my vision blurred. What had I done? How far is too far? In this encapsulating masterpiesce, Sucre is down for whatever gets him closer to taking revenge on Otto - his twin brother's killer. But, would he really do all that is necessary? Would he chose his ambition over that of Luca the cartel’s underboss and his lover? Can he stop the knife and gun violence on campus and win the five million dollars prize money? Dive into a story of love, betrayal, romance and suspense. The Cartel’s Forbidden Love is a gripping and intriguing read that will keep you on the edge of your seat until the very last page.

Vampires, I'd never seen one up close before. That is, until one tried to kill me. But he saved me, the Reaver Raphael. I know I'm only Human, but the more I learn of him, the more intrigued I become. He scares me, much more than I'd ever admit. My instincts scream at me to run. I know he's one of the four brothers who control the Underworld. I know he kills people without warning or trigger. I know the other Supernaturals fear him, and I know what he says goes… period. Yet, I find myself drawn to him, my fear tempered by a morbid curiosity. Being around someone as powerful as Raphael is daunting, yet every time I'm near him, I feel a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. But I'm aware of the danger. I've studied the Reavers, and I know their charm is designed to lure you in. Raphael doesn't even have to try… he exudes an effortless allure that draws me, and everyone else, to him. I know I should run, I want to run. But I'm frozen in place, and the warning signs only seem to heighten the allure. I've danced with danger for too long, but playing with fire has never felt so satisfying. That was, until I woke up in a strange place, surrounded by an unsettling array of supernatural creatures. Reality hit me like a slap in the face. And it's in this moment that I regret ever pursuing the man in the silver suit, who meets me in the diner... I've read enough love stories to know that love could be a fatal flaw, or a mans greatest strength. Could I be his? Or would our love become a fatal collision course from which neither of us would escape?

"You are trembling," Dante whispered, his hand sliding up my thigh, hidden beneath the white tablecloth of the crowded gala. "Please," I begged, the word tasting like ash in my mouth. "Please what?" He leaned in, his teeth grazing my ear, his grip on my leg tightening to a bruise. "Please stop? Or please... take me?" He dragged his thumb over my skin, ruining me in front of everyone, his eyes dark with a terrifying promise. "You belong to me, Evelina. And tonight... I’m going to make sure you scream it. *** Three million dollars. That was the price of my sister’s life. To save her, I sold myself to Dante Valenti. He is the king of Wall Street, a monster in a tailored suit who deals in acquisitions and ruin. He didn't just want my skills as a curator; he wanted me. My time, my freedom, and my absolute submission for five years. I thought I could withstand him. I thought I could keep my heart safe behind walls of hatred. But Dante doesn't just break walls; he burns them down. He strips away my defenses layer by layer, forcing me to play his dark, twisted games. He isolates me, controls me, and manipulates my reality until I don't know where the cage ends and I begin. He treats me like a prized artifact—something to be displayed, guarded, and owned. But as the lines between hatred and desire blur, I realize the terrifying truth: He doesn't just want to own my body. He wants to break my soul until I thank him for the chains.

Alpha Brent Wilson looks breathtaking in his three-piece dark suit as he waits at the altar. He’s smiling and I smile back. Only for that smile to vanish when I realize he isn’t smiling for me. He stopped smiling for me the day he realized I was his mate. I follow where he is looking and bite my lower lip when I see that his gaze lands on the tall, blonde woman standing on the front pew, the lucky woman who owns his heart. Rosie. I know that if he could choose, without a doubt, he would choose to marry her in a heartbeat. However, as an alpha, he has duties and responsibilities that can only be fulfilled with an omega by his side. It doesn’t mean he has given her up though. Because there she is, smiling gracefully and beautifully. I’m the one marrying the alpha, but she’s the one with the winning smile, glowing more than the bride. Can’t he hear it? Can’t he feel anything? The howls of our wolves. Their broken pleas. The screaming straight from our souls. Because I hear it all. I feel it all. But he remains looking at her. Just her. That day, I walked straight into the flames and let myself burn, believing my mate will realize my worth one day… which never happened. I gave and gave until I had nothing more to give. Until I grew tired of fighting for the mate who didn’t want me. Until I snapped. Until I was strong enough to finally reject our bond and walk away. But when I did, something unexpected happened. He hunted me. He chased me. And this time, he was the one who refused to let me go.

Lyric Greyheart spent years living the life everyone expected of her. She was the perfect Luna, perfect daughter, and perfect mate, but behind closed doors, the truth was nothing but blood and heartbreak. Every night, Lyric was forced to endure the agony of her mate's betrayal. And when Lyric finally snapped and invoked an ancient law to break their sacred bond, she uncovered a truth that put her life in danger: her freedom came at a prize almost too big to pay. Forced into hiding, Lyric leaves her pack and the world she was born into. She settles in a quiet coastal town and opens a small ice cream shop, trying to build a life that is gentle instead of brutal. A life without fear, without duty, without eyes watching her womb as if she were nothing more than an incubator meant to bring the next heir into the world. She has no wolf, no pack, and no intention to ever belong to anyone again. Then Noah Locke walks into her shop. He looks nothing like the tourists who usually wander in for soda floats and sundaes. Sharp suit, dangerous presence, eyes that see far more than they should. Lyric doesn’t know who he is or why he feels so familiar, but Noah is the kind of man who doesn't take no for an answer. And he keeps coming back. Asking questions she doesn’t want to even think about. He watcher her like he's been waiting for her his whole life. Lyric escaped a mate who tried to own her, and she has no idea she just crossed paths with a man even more powerful and far more dangerous than her ex-mate. A man, who will burn the world to the ground to keep her from harm

*Hollis Bogard isn’t known for her commitment. In fact, she’s content leading a single, flirtatious life. That might change after meeting Whitney York, a free spirited artist thirsting for adventure.Having been cursed out, chased, and scorned by every broken hearted woman twenty eight year old heroin addict Hollis Bogard has slept around with, she’s not fazed at all by any of it. Always preferring to look for the next best set of kissable lips. Life as an emotionally unavailable bachelorette has served her well, and after all...everyone was warned before anything happened. Feelings were a big no. Hollis had seen what love did to her parents, and wanted nothing to do with the white picket-fenced lie. So long as her bed was warm when she needed it to be, that’s what mattered.Californian Whitney York is ready for a new start. While spontaneity wasn’t a strong suit of her’s, packing up everything she owned into her little black 2008 Toyota Prius and driving cross country to Auburn, Maine was the best idea she’d had all year. No more nagging mother, to hell with her father always comparing Whitney to her successful sister, Theresa. The one with the prestigious acting career, doting husband, and two all American poster children. She wanted to be free to figure out her own destiny. When elusive Hollis bumps into electrifying Whitney at a local bar on the outskirts of town, sparks fly between the unlikely pair.Disclaimer: Strong sexual content, graphic sex scenes, drug usage. 18+, please. This novel won’t be for you if you’re not comfortable with any of the above topics.2019 All Rights Reserved (you know how it goes) Please don’t attempt to steal any part of my work.

She loved him to the core, and from the age of four, a name called Neil Davis took residence in her heart. For the sake of his precarious career, she even went so far as to bear children for the unfamiliar Wilson couple. Twenty years of silent devotion led to him kneeling before another woman, promising her a lifetime commitment. No one knew she was the other half on his marriage certificate, trapped in a marriage that existed only in name for many years. "Neil, you'll never know what I've sacrificed for loving you!" "Then never tell me." With that, he coldly walked away, leaving her to sit alone in the living room until dawn. It was her twenty-fourth birthday, and the divorce agreement and a five million dollar check were his gifts to her. * Married for six years, she never imagined that one day, while he indulged in passion with his "fiancée" in bed, she would be curled up in the wardrobe, losing her virginity beneath another man! She was completely naked, while the man was impeccably dressed in a suit. He forced her to peer through the crack to witness the frenzied scene on the bed. "Same position, same frequency. Guess, between him and me, who will climax first?" The man's tone was serious, and under her startled gaze, he thrust even harder, penetrating deeper. "I love you, Neil!" She bit her lip tightly, but the ecstatic cries of Neil's "fiancée" from outside the wardrobe blurred her vision. Life is so ironic— While he was making love to other women, she was hiding in the closet having an affair with that woman's uncle, Mr. Wilson. After the divorce, a child in a little suit, resembling herself and Mr. Wilson, barged into her peaceful life.

> “Stay still, Little Thorn… I want to taste you slowly.” His voice was velvet and ruin. His mouth, a weapon. And I—fool that I was—leaned closer. Before death wore a suit and called itself a lover, I used to believe in beauty. Before the blood. Before the runes. Before I painted the image that killed my parents—I believed my art could save me. Now I know better. I was just weeks from graduating when the painting came to me like a fever. I didn’t choose it. I didn’t plan it. My hands moved, possessed, dragging symbols I’d never seen and a face I’d never forgotten—his. Eyes red as wine. A crown pierced with thorns. And a girl in the center… me. Offering herself. I signed it with a mark I didn’t recognize. I sold it to a stranger. And days later, my parents were dead—no wounds, no reason, just... gone. The police said stress. I say fate. Now I’m being hunted by a world I didn’t know existed. Vampires with ancient courts and older grudges. Symbols that whisper in my blood. And Lucien D’Aragon—the vampire who says I summoned him with my brushstroke. That I belong to him. He says I’m his prophecy. His ruin. His Little Thorn. But I’m not just prey. Something is waking in me. Something hungry. Something I was never meant to survive. If I give in, I lose everything. If I fight, I might finally learn the truth. About my art. About my bloodline. About what really happened that night. And why he keeps whispering that I was painted for ruin... but made for him.

Serene’s heart raced as she stood in Nicholas’s dimly lit study, the scent of leather and whiskey heavy in the air. She’d been dusting the bookshelves when he entered, his presence filling the room like a storm. Now, he stood inches away, his black suit hugging his broad shoulders, his dark mullet framing a gaze that burned with intent. “You missed a spot,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, pointing to a shelf she’d already cleaned. Her cheeks flushed as she turned, the hem of her maid uniform riding up her thighs. “I-I’ll get it, Mr. Volkov,” she stammered, reaching up, but his hand caught her wrist, firm yet gentle. “No,” he said, stepping closer, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me show you.” His fingers slid down her arm, leaving a trail of heat, before guiding her hand to the shelf. His chest pressed against her back, and she gasped at the hardness of his body, the evidence of his arousal unmistakable. “You’re trembling, little maid,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck, sending shivers down her spine. “Do I scare you… or do I excite you?” Her breath hitched as his free hand trailed up her thigh, slipping beneath the lace of her uniform. “Mr. Volkov…” she whimpered, but her protest melted into a moan as his fingers found her, teasing her through the thin fabric of her panties. “ Nicholas,” he corrected, his voice rough with desire, his touch growing bolder, circling her most sensitive spot until her knees buckled. “Say it,” he demanded, nipping her earlobe. “N-Nicholas,” she gasped, her body arching into him, surrendering to the fire he’d ignited. In that moment, the billionaire and his naive maid were bound by a hunger neither could deny.

I stepped closer. Close enough to smell his cologne—cedarwood, leather, and power. My hand moved. Smooth, practiced. The pistol slide from under the apron into my palm. I raised it fast. But before I could pull the trigger— BANG. Not my shot. A scream tore through the restaurant as another man launched himself toward Romano’s table, blade flashing. Another assassin. What the hell— Romano didn’t flinch. He shoved the table forward, knocking the attacker off balance. The blade scraped across wood, not skin. I ducked instinctively as the room erupted into chaos. Gunfire cracked. Glass exploded. People screamed and dove for cover. “Get him out—NOW!” one of the guards barked. I aimed for the second attacker. Didn’t even hesitate. One shot—head. Gone. The guard saw me. Confusion flashed in his eyes. Then rage. I ran. I weaved between overturned chairs, plates, and screaming bodies. The smell of blood was real now, thick in the air. One of the guards grabbed me. I slammed my elbow into his ribs, twisted, and brought the butt of my gun down on his skull. He dropped like a sack of bricks. Out. I had to get out. My boots pounded the floor as I tore through the narrow hallway. But then— “Elisa.” His voice stopped me cold. I turned. Antonio Romano stood in the middle of the carnage, suit untouched, blood spattered behind him like art. His eyes were on me. And he was smiling. It was darker. Slower. Like a hunter seeing something worth chasing. Somehow, he knew who I was. “Interesting,” he said softly, tilting his head. “They sent you.” I didn’t answer. I ran. But that voice followed me. He knew my name. And he let me go. This wasn’t over. It had just begun.