Su-metal

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.

How quickly everything ended by just a single day, I was just like any other girl in the world- laughing and hanging out with friends, taking endless selfies, having crushes on bad boys and nerds included. I never thought or cared about how I look. It was just mine. Normal and Easy. But everything changed in one single moment- a moment filled with fire, screaming metal, and a blur of terror that rewrote my life. I survived. Everybody says I'm lucky but this, this doesn't feel like survival it feels like a punishment, a curse. A curse that am willing to carry all my life. The accident left me with permanent facial disfigurement, and ever since, I've been stuck behind a mask I never asked to wear. My face is the first thing anyone sees, and sometimes, it feels like the only thing they see. I avoid mirrors now. I no longer go out; I can't risk being stared at. Friends faded. Invitations stopped. Of course they would stop, who would want to invite the hideous me. I would scare everyone, worse, ruin their appetite. They would move away from their tables. What did I expect? Life moved on for everyone but me. My mom is the only person in my life right now, shes' become my anchor. Even with her love, it's still hard to silence the voices in my head, the ones saying I'm hideous, broken, unworthy. I miss my old smile. I still haven't done anything in life. And this isn't about my appearance it's about my self- esteem, my confidence, my ability to feel like I belong anywhere. This is a constant battle with the mirror, with the world, and with yourself. And most days, I'm trying to find the strength to look up to.

He kissed her over and over again, and she responded: she said yes. All female heat and need; so soft and curved against his muscle and hard planes. King kissed her like he owned her and she ached to just let him take her. Any way he wanted; as many times as she could take him. King shifted her again, held almost her whole weight on one massive forearm, freeing his other hand to move over her now. His fingers tightened on her cheek as he kissed her, the metal of his rings cool against her flushed skin, then he moved his hand down her body. She arched when he caressed her throat and stroked down slowly. **** Naomi Abbott had it all once: talent, success, momentum. Now she runs a nonprofit art program for autistic adults and counts her days sober instead of her sales. She’s smart, beautiful, and barely holding herself together. One year into recovery, Naomi knows the rules: no chaos, no temptation, and absolutely no romance. Especially not with him. Matt “King” Kingston is danger wrapped in muscle, a scowling ex-Marine with a garage, a shadowy side hustle, and a laser-focused obsession with Naomi. He wants her. All of her. And he’s never been good at walking away. But the closer he gets, the harder she resists... because letting King in means risking everything she’s fought to rebuild. As trust grows and walls crack, King becomes Naomi’s anchor. Until she spirals. When the past comes roaring back, Naomi must decide if she’s strong enough to survive it... and if King’s love can endure the wreckage.

His lips brushed my palm and every time his hot breath hit my skin, it set my nerves on fire. “What the—” I whispered, breathless. And then, with deliberate slowness, Sevastian slipped my ring finger into his mouth. My eyes widened in disbelief, my heart hammering against my chest. His teeth scraped my skin before sinking into the flesh, just enough to make me twitch from the sharp pain. I gasped, both from the sting and the bite I got from him. My entire body tensed as he bit down harder, marking me not with ink or metal, but with flesh and teeth. When he finally released my hand, my skin throbbed, the faint mark of his bite was visible against my finger. I cradled my hand, staring in disbelief at the mark he left behind. “This,” Sevastian murmured, his voice low and sharp. “Is my mark and ring.” His tone carried an edge, dangerous yet confident, as if the words were meant to bind me. “The symbol that you are no longer Celestina Valeztina-Savelli.” His lips ghosted over my skin, and my chest tightened as he whispered the next words. “...but Celestina Valeztina-Ortega.” His next words were a soft snarl, dripping with ruthless certainty. “My property, my wife.” He added, while locking his gaze on me. There was no hesitation in his eyes, no flicker of remorse, only that same ruthless determination that chilled me to my core. I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn’t let go. "You’re insane," I whispered, my voice barely audible, trembling despite my best efforts not to show it. “Yes, I’m insane,” he replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, “And I can drive you crazy…” He paused, letting the tension hang in the air.

After the young officer Edward Shaw took first place in a high-profile shooting exhibition attended by senior officials, his family adopted a rather peculiar tradition. At the annual family banquet, he would perform a blindfolded shooting. Whichever woman's token his bullet struck was taken as a sign that she would become his fiancée. Determined to marry him, I placed the handkerchief I had carefully chosen as close to him as possible. Yet, for three consecutive years, his shots hit nothing at all. I told myself the handkerchief must have been too light, too easy to miss. So each year, I replaced it with something more refined, more eye-catching than before. That illusion lasted until the night before my eighteenth birthday, when I happened to overhear him speaking with a friend at a reception. "Miss Jasmine's handkerchief is right in front. Even blindfolded, you should be able to hit it. How do you keep missing every year?" Edward swirled his glass, his tone casual. "Tracy's still young. The moment she hears I'm getting engaged, she starts crying. "I promised I'd wait until she's a little older. As for Jasmine, she's waited for me all these years. It's not like she's going anywhere." With that, he casually tossed his glass into a metal bucket in the corner. It rang out with a sharp, hollow clang. I lowered my gaze and thought of my younger sister, only a year younger than me. So it had never been about the token. It was about the person who placed it there. In that case, there was no reason for me to keep holding on. After all, my father had already arranged a marriage for me. Three days later, at that same family banquet, I would be formally engaged.

Morgan lleva una vida tranquila como la herborista de su pueblo, pero la verdad es que tiene un secreto. Es una bruja. Un día, un cambiaformas llamado Shane afirma que Morgan es su compañera destinada e insiste en que ella venga con él. Ella se niega, pero Shane accidentalmente la expone como una criatura sobrenatural a su pueblo, y ahora ella debe comenzar su vida de nuevo en su manada. Cuando la línea entre el odio y el amor comienza a difuminarse, un cazador de monstruos los rastrea, y un anciano de la manada de Shane comienza a presionar para que Morgan sea exiliada. Pronto, su amor no es lo único que puede que no sobreviva por mucho tiempo… *** "¿Está bien esto, Morgan?". Su piel se siente como terciopelo bajo mi mano áspera. "Sí." Me inclino hacia abajo y presiono mis labios suavemente contra su garganta. Tan pronto como mis dientes afilados perforan su piel, ella arroja hacia atrás su cabeza y gime en éxtasis. Escuchar sus gemidos hace que mis pantalones se ajusten con necesidad. Quiero hacerle tantas cosas diferentes. «La Bruja perdida del Alfa» es una obra de Claire Wilkins, una autora de eGlobal Creative Publishing.

Andrea Silva se vio obligada a casarse con el supuesto novio de su hermana gemela, Camila Silva, tras la huida de su hermana. Andrea quedó profundamente desconsolada al descubrir que el hombre con el que acababa de casarse estaba enamorado de su hermana y que ella solo era una sustituta hasta que Camila regresara. Andrea pensó que podría enamorar a Damine Fel, pero ¿qué pasaría si su hermana regresara y quisiera recuperar a su novio? ¿Qué pasaría si su esposo la obligara a divorciarse? ¿Qué pasaría si descubriera que estaba embarazada de él, pero él no quería saber nada de ella?

El chico que me gustaba en secreto y su padre fueron envenenados con afrodisíaco. Por lo que, sin dudarlo, me desvestí para ayudar a su padre a eliminar el veneno. En mi vida pasada, fui obligada a convertirme en el antídoto del chico, dándole un hijo. Pero él nunca regresaba a casa, guardando su «pureza» para su amada inalcanzable. En el quinto año de matrimonio, me descuartizó junto a nuestro hijo y enterró nuestros restos en el jardín de granadas de su amada, como fertilizante. Él estaba convencido de que yo, con malas intenciones, había preparado el afrodisíaco para pasar una noche con él, arruinando su oportunidad de estar con su verdadero amor, quien finalmente se suicidó lejos de casa. Al despertar, descubrí que había vuelto al momento en que habían sido envenenados y, esta vez, elegí convertirme en su… ¡madrastra!

"Look at the target, Gabe," Derek hissed, his voice a low vibration that settled in my bones. "Imagine it's my heart. Imagine you are finally putting me out of my misery." I was trapped between the cold metal of a gun and the burning heat of his body. My finger trembled on the trigger, but I couldn't pull it. My name is Gabriel. To the world I am the nerdy quiet university student. To Derek Miller, I am his toy. He found my secret sketchbook, page after page of his naked body drawn with obsessive detail. Now, he uses those sketches to keep me on a leash blackmailing me whenever he wants a taste of my dignity. But the nightmare was only beginning. When my religious mother announced she was marrying Derek’s billionaire father my world shattered. My bully wasn't just a ghost from campus anymore, he was my stepbrother. We share a room. We share a bathroom and now my body. He is everywhere I breathe. He claims me. He insults me. He treats me like trash. And the sickest part? I have realized I loved it rough. Our obsessive love is impossible. My mother would disown me, the Miller name would be tarnished, and Derek’s tough love is starting to leave scars I can't hide. Just as I am about to break, a new guy enters the picture someone who promises to love me softly. Someone who doesn't smell like gin and danger. But in the dark world of the Millers, safety is a lie. Now I have to choose: Do I run toward a peaceful future, or do I stay with the devil I already know?

Liana Elizabeth Rose of the prestigious Rose family woke gasping—remembering everything. At first, she thought it was a dream. Or a hallucination. Maybe heaven, maybe hell, or wherever people go when life has been cruel enough to steal their breath. But the room was the same. The curtains were the same. The smooth, unscarred skin she touched was the same. As if the last five years of betrayal and humiliation had never etched themselves into her. Then the panic hit. She remembered. Every. Single. Thing. The cold metal of prison bars. Her husband Adrian’s dead, beautiful eyes accusing her of the accident. The trial. The cousin who framed her. The family who abandoned her. The little brother who no longer remembered her voice. Her death. And the cruelest truth: she wasn’t even from this world. It was a book a stupid novel her roommate had recommended. She died inside a story she didn’t write. And now, she woke up at the moment everything began to crumble. Fine. Sharpen her mind. Feed her ambition. And when the plot tried to drag her back, she’d pull harder. Then there was him—Adrian. From his point of view, the world shifted. Her scent. Her voice. Her existence. Everything about her crawled under his skin, sank into his bloodstream, coiled around his bones. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t want to. He only knew: if she breathed, he wanted it. If she moved, he followed. Obsession wasn’t a symptom—it was his nature. And Liana? She had rewritten herself into the one thing he could never let go of. This time, she wasn’t the victim. She wasn’t a plot device. She was the storm. And Adrian? Learning, too late, that even possession has a price.