The Rhythm Section Novels & Stories

Without Kaelen's knowledge, I had his little plaything sent out of North America. That same night, he cast a blood-vine curse on my parents, banishing them to the wilds—a wasteland prowled by rogues. He was going to trade my parents' lives for the whereabouts of his plaything. Kaelen pushed a communication crystal in front of me. Inside it, my parents were ensnared by blood-red vines, the thorns digging deep into their flesh. Drops of dark crimson blood fell, one by one, onto the barren earth. A countdown timer pulsed in stark red digits on their chests. 23:59:59 23:59:58 He sat across from me, a black suit tailored to perfection molded to his lean, powerful frame. His long fingers tapped a light, steady rhythm on the solid wood table, as if he were waiting for a trivial business deal to close. "Estelle, you have twenty-four hours." His voice was low and calm, laced with a venomous tenderness. "Tell me, where did you send Cassandra?"

In my dormitory, there was a poor student. With all the good intentions in the world, my roommates and I were eager to help her, not realizing how much our help would cost. She wasn't impressed by the hairdryer we offered, insisting on borrowing a branded one instead. The skincare products we gave her? They were applied to her feet. And, as if that wasn't enough, she specifically demanded luxury face cream. One day, I lent her my tablet to look up some information, and to my surprise, she secretly opened up my gaming app, spent all the diamonds and reward tickets I had saved for half a year, and left me empty-handed. When I asked her to pay me back, she turned the tables and posted a public message online, accusing me. "I'm just a poor student from the countryside, never played games before. Are the materials in the game really worth this much?" Before I knew it, the comment section was flooded with criticisms of me. In a fit of frustration, I fired back with a post of my own, throwing her into the spotlight. "Well, I suppose you've never tasted the bitterness of being cyberbullied, have you?"

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

I did three years in prison for my wife, Lilian Parson. The day I got out, she handed me an envelope for her company's grand opening. Inside was a single dollar bill. For a second, I thought it was a mistake. Then I saw her colleague, Nathan Ramsey, holding his envelope—his also contained a single dollar. Relieved, I pushed my doubts aside. I smiled, stood by Lilian's side through the entire ceremony, the picture of a proud, supportive husband. That night, scrolling through Instagram, I saw Nathan's latest post. A photo of a check. [Congratulations to Lilian Parson on the grand opening! So generous—100 million as a gift!] The comments section exploded with envy and blessings, congratulating him and "the boss" on finally becoming a couple. Lilian offered no explanation. Instead, she hurried to draw a line between us. "You just got out of prison," she said coolly. "It's not a good look to go public right now. Let's keep our marriage a secret. In front of others, just call me your boss." Then she turned around and liked Nathan's post. I wiped the tears from my eyes, picked up my phone, and dialed the number of her greatest rival. "From now on, I work for you," I said.

While I was watching my own child, I came across an anonymous post online: [My son married way above his station. How can I get him to divorce her?] The poster claimed to be a mother. She said she hated her oldest son, describing him as lazy and selfish, and totally undeserving of such a great in-law family. Her plan was to force him to get a divorce—and then send her well-behaved, obedient younger son in his place as the new son-in-law. The comment section went crazy. [I've seen parents play favorites, but this is just twisted.] [Is the oldest adopted or something? Who schemes against their own flesh and blood like that?] [Are you marrying off a son or pimping one out? Just swapping them in to serve a rich family?] Then, in the middle of all the outrage, one comment surfaced: [Men hate being cheated on. Fake a few photos of your daughter-in-law with another guy and send them to him. Once he loses it, the marriage is as good as over.] The original poster replied immediately: [Thanks, girl! I'll try it right away.] The next second, my phone buzzed. A message from my mom popped up on the screen: [Jason, take a look at this. Do you think Emily is cheating?]

At the end of the year, I went to the spa and discovered a stranger had been using my VIP card. When I logged into my personal profile, the last three treatment records were not under my name. The preference section listed specific details about someone else. She was allergic to rose essential oil, preferred lavender, and her heating pad temperature could not exceed 108 degrees Fahrenheit. Her menstrual cycle fell around the 15th of each month, so no waist or abdomen treatments during that time. I stared at the screen, my palms turning cold. Only my husband, Zachary White, knew this password. At the time, he said he needed it to check the balance and renew my membership. I scrolled down and found a system note at the bottom: [Birthday treatment reserved for December 30, prepared according to Ms. Anderson's preferences.] Today was December 30. My phone vibrated. Zachary had sent a message: [Working late tonight. Won't be home.] Familiar laughter drifted from the hallway. Through the glass door, I watched Zachary walk into the adjacent room with his arm around a woman, the beautician hurrying forward to greet them. "Mr. White, we have Ms. Anderson's birthday treatment ready, just as you requested."

For once, Gianna wants things to go smoothly in her life. After breaking the engagement with her cheater fiancé three years ago, she feels like she wasted enough time. Her bestfriend urges her to find a lover, especially that Marson seems desperate to fill in the role. Now that she finally allows herself to try love the second time, fate hands her down a card she can’t help but gamble. Caden Vitaro is famous band member of a pop-rock band. Now that the band decided to end their journey, a final tribute is on the way and Caden is given a challenge to compose one more song for the fans. The only problem is, he lost himself in guilt to what happened three years ago, and so is his passion. Coming back to his hometown in South Ganuala, he meets his first love, the first girl who put melody and rhythm in his life, his first fan girl. Maybe she will heal him and be his muse. Or maybe, the lost love between them will break him even more.

My name is Arabella. I sold 20 years of my life to become a vampire’s attendant after my father’s death in order to help my family. I should have been scared of blood and fangs, but instead, I long for my master's touches. What I didn't know was that my desire for him would bring me nothing but destruction. ***“You taste delicious.” He licks his lips, pulling me closer to him.The warmth of his skin against mine, and the soothing rhythm of his beating heart calms me a bit. I relax my shoulders and lie there with my head on his chest.“Ara, I'm your master and it’s my responsibility to keep you safe, but I failed today.”His words sound sincere, and I really wish I could believe him. But all vampires are monsters.He just happens to be the monster I wish I could trust.My Vampire Master: A Contract of Blood and Lust is created by Angeline Hartwood, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

I listened to my mate fuck my maid for five years. Right here beside my hospital bed. “When you stand by her bed,” Frost gasped beneath my mate’s thrusts, “are you thinking of your Luna… or how you fucked me here?” “Don’t.” Caleb answered, his voice low, his rhythm never slowing. “She’s always my Luna. I need her.” Frost laughed, breathless and soft.“Sure, Alpha. But when the lights go out, only I know whose name you really moan.” No. I knew it. I heard clearly for five years. My fated mate, the father of my twins, the man I fought for and nearly died for, betrayed me while I lay unconscious after childbirth. But what I never expected was that my puppies would choose her too. I was done listening to betrayal from the shadows. It was time to take back what was mine. The thought of their faces when they realized I was awake made me smile. I reached for the phone by my bed when they left and pressed the button. “I’m awake.”

“You can still walk away,” he said, his voice lower now. I shook my head. “I don’t want to.” Something in his expression softened, just slightly. Then he stepped closer. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a second, neither of us moved. Like we were both waiting, deciding. His hand lifted, hesitating just slightly before brushing against my jaw, tilting my face up to his. “Last chance,” he murmured. I didn’t answer, I didn’t need to. I closed the distance instead. The kiss wasn’t soft. It was searching, deliberate. Like he was testing something, me. And I responded before I could stop myself. Before I could think. My fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer as the world around us slipped further out of reach. The hesitation was gone now. Replaced by something heavier, something I didn’t want to question. And this time, I didn’t think.