Spin The Bottle

I put my t-shirt down, my hands shaking. I try to ignore them and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My hair color is dark brown and a vague hint of golden. My dad used to say that my eyes are ocean blue. A guy in my history cl once said that I had perfect s. Another guy said that I had a great body. They wanted to date me. And I dated few of them. I brush my fingers in my forehead. Then my dark, thick eyelashes. The side of my nose. My s. I run my hand at my neck, then across my collarbone. Am I beautiful? Honestly, I don't know. Maybe I'm not. "You were wrong, Angelina Valentine." A voice inside my head suddenly whispers. "Calm down, Angel," another voice whispers. It's the voice I loved. His voice is fading away. My hands start shake again, my breath rapidly quickening. I am losing control. I have to do something. "Goddammit!" I punch the mirror with my fist. It shatters into thousand pieces. My reflection has shattered into thousand pieces, too. The mirror now looks to me like an art. And my bloody knuckles. "I am sorry, Edwin. I can't promise you anymore, because you left me." I bite my to stop myself from crying. I won't cry. What's the point of crying? My sixth sense is suddenly alert. Somebody is watching me. I spin around. A guy is standing in front of the door, leaning against it. He wears a tight blue shirt, the sleeves folded. His black hair is ruffled and his hands are folded across his chest. The probable most amazing thing about him is his eyes. They are dark green. They are dangerous, beautiful and incredibly unreadable. And they are watching me.

"Come on Jenna. Just one word." He taunt. He gripped my wrist in one hand and trailed his hand down my side to my hips. His hand went under my shirt and rested on my skin that sent sparks through my body. His finger did designs over my skin while he continue to nibble on the spot of my neck. "St-" His mouth come off my skin and I felt his glaze on my face. I open my eyes and barely see any hazel in his eyes. His eyes are fighting to get back to his regular eye color but the desire from him is fighting over his body. His lips are plump and my neck burns from the air hitting my raw neck.l don't know how he manage to bite my skin from the scabs from trying to heal my wounds but he manage to do so. "Say it." His voice is deep and husky. That it sent shivers through my spin, making me close my legs tight. He breathe in and his eyes went complete black. "Say it Jenna or I won't stop what's going to happen next." His voice is so deep that I didn't think it was Alcander. I looked straight in those deep coal eyes and said, "I Jenna Knox reject Alpha Alcander as my mate."*****Jenna Knox. She always believed her mate would be some guy in some shining armor and would take her far away from her pack and raise a perfect family.But what she didn't know was that her mate was going be some one who kills for fun. Kills other packs,And laughs at their alpha who's on the ground begging for mercy.Let's just she how she handles Alpha Alcander.

Camilla walks into my study, and the air shifts. She's a distraction I can't afford, but fuck if I can resist her. Her fingers trace the edge of my desk, her eyes locked onto mine. "What are you doing, Camilla?" I growl, my control already fraying. She's a walking temptation, and she knows it. She smirks, her voice a sultry whisper, already undoing me. "Pushing your buttons, Zeke. Seeing how far I can go before you snap." My control falters. I spin her around, pressing her against the desk. My hands roam over her body, and I can feel her submitting. "You want this?" I ask, my voice a low growl. "You want to see the beast you're unleashing?" *** Camilla Dawson never expected to see the sinfully hot stranger she once hooked up with in a public washroom ever again. But fate—or rather, a father she never knew existed—has other plans. Now, she's bound and delivered as payment for a debt, straight into the hands of none other than Zeke Russell—the ruthless kingpin who always gets what he wants. Zeke built his empire on power and control, and he never takes no for an answer. Business or pleasure, the rules are his. It’s been years, but he’s never forgotten the woman who left him wanting more. Now, with Camilla thrust into his world as a replacement for his promised bride, everything spirals into chaos. She was never supposed to matter. Yet somehow, she’s slipping past his defenses, unearthing secrets he’s buried deep—and igniting a dangerous obsession. And when enemies close in, there’s nothing he won’t do to keep her. After all, what’s one more crime in the name of love?

"Jett?" My voice trembled. "Shhh, Bunny," he murmured, tilting the bottle and pouring the liquor over my p***y. The cold sting hit my swollen folds, and I jolted up, gasping as the burn spread through me. "Ahhh—!" I nearly buckled from the mix of cold fire and his hot tongue as he went back to eating me. My body jerked off the table, chasing the torment I knew I couldn’t withstand. He pulled back, eyes dark, smirking as his tongue followed every drop running down my thighs. "F***," he groaned. "You taste even better with whiskey on your pussy." --- I thought my biggest mistake was crushing on Jason Maltideon—my best friend, the boy I’d spent my life yearning for—only for him to reject me the moment the Goddess fated me to him. But my real mistake? Giving myself to the wrong man. His twin brother—Jettison Maltideon. He’s everything I should fear: wild, reckless, a walking sin wrapped in leather and gasoline. The kind of man who fights too hard, drinks too much, and smirks like he knows exactly how to ruin me. I hate him. I hate that he looks just like the man who shattered my heart. I hate that he knows my darkest secrets—and doesn’t care. But most of all, I hate that when he touches me, I burn. Jettison wants me. He doesn’t take no, and he’s made it clear he’ll chase me until I break. Now, with the Moon Goddess pulling our strings in a storm of betrayal, forbidden bonds, and a sickness tearing our pack apart, I’ll have to decide— Is Jettison my ruin? Or the only wolf who was ever meant to save me? Note: Rated 18+. Dark romance, morally complex characters, and triggering themes.

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

I am a firefighter. A beam crashes onto me in the middle of a burning building. At the same time, my oxygen is about to run out. I writhe and struggle as much as I can to reach for my backup oxygen canister, only to feel my fingers brushing over a bottle of water instead. When I turn around, I see my wife, Leah Sawyer, giving the last backup oxygen canister to her new mentee, Roderick Wyndham. I begin calling out to her via a walkie-talkie. "Leah, I'm being pinned down right now, and my oxygen's running out! Where is the oxygen canister?" As Leah shields Roderick behind her, she replies impatiently, "I've already given it to Roderick. It's his first time inside a burning building, so he's frightened. Having an extra canister on him gives him a sense of security. "You're already a veteran firefighter, so you can just think up a way to resolve your situation. Don't go around wasting precious resources." I can feel thick smoke infiltrating my lungs at that moment. Feelings of asphyxiation soon overwhelm me. "My leg is broken, so I can't move at all! Without oxygen, I won't be able to hold out till I get rescued!" But Leah merely chortles in response. "Stop playing the pity card! Every time we're out on a mission, you're always the cowardly one who's terrified of dying! You have zero sense of dedication at all! I shouldn't have let you join the firefighting squad, to begin with! "What's the use of you clinging to the equipment? Giving it to the newbies is the best way of maximizing its value!" I can only smile bitterly in response. Using what's left of my strength, I switch to a public channel and begin reporting to the command center. "For the record, Captain Leah Sawyer deliberately tampered with the essential rescue equipment in order to protect Roderick Wyndham, causing me, a fellow firefighter, to be trapped in a deadly situation. "I hereby request the immediate activation of the Firefighter Emergency Evacuation Act. Also, I formally charge Leah with gross negligence and attempted homicide."

I'm Alpha Bruce Smith's most docile and understanding daughter. In fact, I'm the type who obeys literally anyone's orders. When my parents pick me up at the Rogues' den and take me back to the pack, my adopted younger sister, Andrea Smith, begins making fun of me. "I thought the Rogues killed you for sure! I never thought you'd be able to return to the pack, safe and sound! You really are lucky! Why can't you just die already?" With hollow eyes, I just nod quietly. Then, I extend a claw and move to stab myself in the neck without hesitation. My parents are terrified out of their wits. They quickly stop me from hurting myself. But my older brother, Tobias Smith, remains impassive about my condition. "You really love attention that much, huh? What makes you think you can still remain my sister, anyway? You might as well drink some wolfsbane and die!" That night, I grab a bottle of poison and down it immediately. Tobias discovers me afterward. He whisks me to the hospital anxiously. When the doctor tells him that I'd die if he were two minutes later in discovering me, Tobias' complexion turns pale. Some time after that, when Andrea snatches my necklace from me, she loses her balance and falls down the stairs. Her fiance points at me while exclaiming, "It's just a necklace! If anything were to happen to Andrea, you'd better pay the price with your life!" Pay the price with my life, huh? I don't hesitate to draw the silver sword out of its hilt on the wall. Then, I slash my throat with it. My parents happen to witness it. Shell-shocked, they scream at the top of their lungs. "Call an ambulance! Hurry!" Tobias tries to stem the blood flow with trembling hands. He's completely stunned by the ordeal. What everyone doesn't know is that they've been calling me a lowlife during my five-year stay in the Rogues' den. Even if I could live 100 times over, those lives are nothing compared to Andrea. Even if I gave my life, it would never be enough—because to them, my life was never worth anything in the first place.

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.

SPIN OFF FREL. Genre :YOUNG ADULT (YA). DARA itu ... miss alay yang super lebay, ratunya drama, narsis, berisiknya ngalahin mesin diesel, nggak tahu malu, PD-nya di atas rata-rata kecuali sama warna kulitnya. Dia anaknya juga nekat, suka banget sama martabak telur, tipikal cewek agresif, centilnya na'udzubillah, manusia abnormal yang mempunyai ide-ide gila di kepala, tetapi mudah dimanipulasi terutama sama kakaknya sendiri. Mottonya "Mati satu tumbuh seribu", alhasil ketika gagal mendapatkan satu cowok dia bisa begitu mudah berpindah ke cowok lain. Contohnya aja, saat dia udah benar-benar menyerah mengejar cowok yang katanya ganteng level dewa, cowok keren sepanjang masa—Kenn—lalu dengan cepatnya ia mencari target lain bernama Ari, kakak kelasnya. Masalahnya, Ari tuh sejenis cowok baik-baik dan polos, harus terpaksa berhadapan dengan cewek genit yang imajinasinya luar biasa liar. Dara yang terlalu menginginkan untuk diakui dan tidak ingin dianggap sampah seperti perlakuan mantan-mantannya sebelumnya, kini menganggap Ari sebagai harta karun. Apa pun ia lakukan demi mempertahankan sebuah hubungan. Hingga beberapa kali nekat mengintip hubungan orang dewasa antara Inez dan kakaknya. Ia hanya tidak tahu ada penyebab tragis tentang masa lalu yang membuat Inez berubah menjadi super agresif. Pertanyaannya, masa lalu kelam apa yang membuat Inez menjadi seperti itu? Apa penyebab yang membawanya kabur dari rumah dan bersedia menerima tawaran Rian untuk bersamanya? Ketika sang pelaku muncul kembali dan meneror dirinya, akankah Inez mampu menghadapinya? Bantuan apa yang akan dilakukan Dara? Juga, bagaimana nanti nasib Ari di tangan Dara? Alasan apa yang membuat Ari mau berpacaran sama Dara? Mungkin karena lagi kesurupan atau memang sedang beneran khilaf? Apakah Ari sanggup menyadarkan Dara bahwa ada beberapa batasan yang tidak bisa dilampaui oleh hubungan remaja seperti mereka? Baca serta buktikan, segokil dan seseru apa cerita mereka.

On the night of New Year's Eve, I wake up in a hospital ward with an IV drip connected to the back of my hand. A nurse passes me the hospital bill. "It's 300 dollars in total, including the emergency treatment fee and the cost for a bottle of glucose drips." When I turn on my phone, I feel my heart sinking. I only have 29.01 dollars left in my bank account. The wallpaper of my phone is a countdown of my family contract's app. Today is the date when I have to renew my family contract for the year. In order to accumulate enough money to go home, I've been working as a staff member in concert venues. Earlier, I had collapsed backstage, so I was quickly sent to the hospital. The dial tone keeps beeping for a long time. Finally, my mom answers my call in what seems to be a noisy background. "Mom, I'm at the hospital right now. I need 300 dollars to pay the hospital bill." "You're at the hospital?" Mom's voice turns shrill immediately. "Why did you visit the hospital during the holidays? You really are a jinx!" "I fainted earlier. I was working at a concert venue—" "What? So, you refused to do chores at home during the holidays! Instead, you decide to work at a concert venue?" Mom interrupts immediately. "I don't have 300 dollars on me! You'd better come up with a way to pay that bill of yours!" "Mom…" My hand tightens around my phone. "Today is the last day of my family contract's renewal period. I'll renew the contract once I pay the bill." "Renew the contract, huh?" Mom just sneers at me. "That's a part of your duties! How dare you use it against me! Helena Lambert, if you don't renew the contract today, you can forget about calling me 'Mom'!" After that, she ends the call. I can only grip my phone to the point that my fingers turn white. After that, I tap on a social media app in hopes that I can borrow money from my friends, only to see the latest post on the social media feed. My younger sister, Hannah Lambert, has posted a photo collage there. "I'm here with my parents to watch my favorite singer's concert! Snagging tickets to the first-row seats is definitely worth it!" The background of those photos is the same concert venue where I work part-time at. It's the most expensive venue in town. Apparently, tickets cost 2,900 dollars each.