Stop Sister Novels & Stories

My best friend wanted to adopt an injured kitten. Seeing the cat’s unusual appearance, I suddenly recalled a state-protected animal called the manul. Its young resembled cats but were exceptionally ferocious. So, I advised her against keeping it. But my friend would not listen to me and brought it back to our rental apartment. Unexpectedly, the manul seemed to understand human emotions and harbored a grudge against me. Five years later, it suddenly burst into my home and killed my entire family. I lunged to kill it, only to have my throat torn. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my best friend adopted the manul. This time, I did not stop her from taking it in.

Mate or be killed. Our world has become a dangerous place, ruled by the ruthless Soul Keepers—demon-like creatures that take pleasure in thrusting us into the mate hunt. Every five months, two shifters are selected, one male and one female, and they are cast into the treacherous Woods Of Abyss together. There, they must fend off beasts and scavenge for food, but there's one crucial rule: both shifters must mate before the five months expire or face elimination. My name is Hazel Bonfire and my life is turned upside down when I'm chosen for this brutal hunt. Unfortunately, the male selected to join me is none other than my step-brother, Ashton Rider. Thrown into a perilous forest, we must depend on one another for food, shelter, and warmth. Ashton is painfully aware that his mate can see everything unfolding between us, and each time he betrays her for the sake of the hunt, it destroys a piece of him. . .I hate what it's doing to us—all of us. I hate that we do not have a choice. But more than anything, I hate that I'm beginning to feel things for Ashton that I know will destroy the relationship we once had. . . forever.

The first year after they finally bring me home, the impostor suggests a trip to Golden Island so we can build some brotherly rapport. For safety, my fiancee comes with us. They rack up a massive gambling debt at Golden Island's casino. To get themselves out of trouble, she leaves me behind as a hostage and disappears with him. The casino thugs pin me down, ready to take out their anger on me. I struggle to break free, and that is when I notice the leader's phone lighting up with a number for the island owner. Isn't that the number of the adoptive sister who has adored me for more than a decade?

“And the night we met again,” I whisper, “my wolf recognized you.” Silence. “Recognized me how?” she asks carefully. My chest burns even as my pulse thunders in my ears. “As my mate.” The word falls between us like shattered glass. Avara laughs. “That’s not funny.” “I know.” “You’re my brother.” “I know.” I find myself inching closer… closer. “That’s impossible. This is sick.” “I know,” I say again, voice breaking now. “I fought it. Gods, I fought it. I tried to convince myself my instincts were wrong, that my wolf was broken, that I was losing my mind.” Her hands shake. “Stop.” “I can’t,” I say hoarsely. “Because every second I’m near you, it gets worse. Because my wolf wants to kneel at your feet and tear the world apart to protect you.” Avara stands abruptly, backing away until her spine hits the wall. “You’re lying.” “I wish I were.” …………………………… Fifteen years after vanishing from the Silvermoon pack, Kaeden Vane returns, older, lethal, and right on time at thirty-three, the age decreed by the Moon Goddess for succession, having spent years years amassing forbidden knowledge, mastering dangerous magic, and preparing to destroy his father, the man who murdered his mother in a bid for godhood. His return reunites him with Avara Vane, his seemingly fragile, human adopted sister that Silas, their father, adopted as an ‘act of mercy’. She is a Nyxarel, whose parents were slaughtered by the man she calls father and who has been conveniently placed and subdued by his father, until it is the right time to use her blood to attain immortality. And one touch is all it takes for Kaeden’s wolf to recognize her as his mate, an impossible, unforgivable bond…

My older sister was always kind-hearted, while I was born a natural troublemaker. When the intense heatwave struck, our family stocked up on supplies and stayed indoors. My sister saw a little boy, who seemed about seven or eight years old, crying and asking for help. She decided to take him in. “We’ve plenty of supplies anyway. One more person won’t make much difference. Besides, he’s just a child.” I warned her that the boy looked oddly mature and might not be as innocent as he seemed. I suggested we observe him a bit longer. She said I was a cold-hearted troublemaker by nature. Then, she went and let him in anyway. Not just that, but she also convinced our mother to force me to share a room with the boy. That night, the scheming “little boy” secretly climbed into my bed. I was brutally assaulted. Yet my sister told me to let bygones be bygones and marry him. To force me to obey, she locked me out on the balcony at over 140 °F. Enraged, I set a fire and killed everyone. When I opened my eyes again and saw my sister safe and unharmed, I smiled. This time, I would show them what a troublemaker really was.

My older sister, Candice Channing, was a doctor who was an expert at treating infertility patients. She was always telling me how worried she was about me marrying a man who was not great in bed, which would be equivalent to me marrying into a life of being a widow. That was why she would always seduce every boyfriend I had. After sleeping with them, she would approach me by showing off the love marks on her body. "I've tried him out for you. He's not a considerate lover and refused to let me go even after I told him 'No'. This isn't a man you would want." I broke down every time she did this. After that, I cut ties with her and left for another place. That was when I met Russell Loft, the youngest Captain in the army who was stationed there locally. He was a mature and good-looking man. On the day of our wedding, we arranged a banquet for our guests, and that was when I spotted Candice among the crowd. Candice was now Russell's personal doctor, and she was at the wedding as a guest. "My dear sister, I can't help but worry about the man you're about to marry. Let me try him out for you." She drugged me unconscious and climbed into bed with Russell in the dark. When I woke up and barged into the room with others, my actions caused a commotion among our colleagues. Candice was treated as a third party who destroyed my marriage and was taken away on the spot. When my son turned one, Russell told me he wanted to surprise me, but he took me to an abandoned minefield instead. The moment I stepped on an active mine, I knelt on the ground, begging him to take our son to safety, but Russell looked at me coldly and said, "All Candice wanted before the wedding was to leave me with a memory of her first time in bed with me, but you got her arrested, and she ended up being raped to death by the people in the detention center. She was pregnant with my baby when she died. You and that b*stard child of yours should pay for their lives." That was when I found out that he had fallen for Candice. My son and I died in the explosion, and our bodies were blown to smithereens without leaving behind a intact corpse. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day of my wedding, where Candice appeared as our guest.

I failed my college entrance examination. My father decided to sell me to the village chief’s hot-tempered, crippled son. My younger twin sister helped me escape in the middle of the night. It was only later that I discovered my younger sister was the one who had failed the examination. She used my identity to attend college and hooked up with a rich heir. At her engagement banquet, they revealed the truth that she had taken my identity. As a result, the event fell apart. Out of rage, my sister pushed me down the stairs. I grabbed her and pulled her down with me. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day the examination results came out.

My wife, Wendy, faked her death and took her younger sister’s identity, and I pretended not to know. I removed her from the position of general manager at the company and went to the police station to cancel her identity registration. In my past life, Wendy’s younger sister, Stacy, died in a car accident. Wendy chose to live as her, only because she could not bear to let Eric, her sister’s husband, become a widower. I confronted Wendy and demanded to know why she was impersonating her sister, but she refused to admit anything. “I understand that losing Wendy hurts, but you cannot treat me as if I’m her just because she is gone.” After that, Wendy spread rumors everywhere, saying I had lost my mind. She claimed that my wife had just died and I was already harboring improper thoughts toward her younger sister. In a short time, I suffered an unprecedented wave of online harassment. In the end, an overzealous netizen stabbed me to death in an alley. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day Wendy was preparing to take her sister’s identity.

My husband, Zachary Larson, and I are holding a welcome dinner for my sister, Julia Scott. When someone asks what Julia's greatest regret is, she raises her glass and looks at Zachary dreamily. "It's probably the time I wasn't brave enough to keep his child." Everyone starts to whisper amongst themselves. I tighten my grip on the pregnancy check-up report I'm about to reveal to them. My stomach twists with the emotions swirling in my head. Julia suddenly returns to her senses and chuckles. "I was just kidding. We were only friends with benefits, so don't take it to heart, Queenie. He married you, so you're the one he loves."

My family sold one of their properties to put me through school abroad. Nathan Kingsley and I had been together three years. Two of those were long-distance. Through those two years of me alone overseas, he never broke contact — airport pickups, long phone calls, every anniversary remembered. I'd never once doubted him. I thought distance hadn't beaten us. The day I flew home, he was waiting at Arrivals with a bouquet of flowers. He smiled and said, "Finally." We set the engagement date. We picked out the dress. We booked the reception. The day the wedding march began and I stood at the top of the aisle looking at him, I thought — these three years were worth every minute. Then the doors behind me opened. My sister walked into the chapel, in a white dress, and slid her arm through his. She smiled at me. "Sorry, sis. Those airport pickups? I'm the one who sent him. For the last three years, he's been mine the whole time."