Novel & Cerita The Voice Of Enigma

Kiera was raised in the warmth of an Alpha’s home, blossoming into a Luna, known for her strength and quick wit. In the shadows of a pack's loving embrace, Keira's belief in an unbreakable alliance shatters when a familiar face unveils hidden truths about her husband. Betrayed and hurt, she flees to an unexpected source for help.The triplets, architects of revenge, grapple with an unforeseen twist of fate as Keira emerges, a woman written in the stars to disrupt their carefully laid plans. Now, a pivotal choice looms: do they save the life of the woman destined to unravel everything they've built, or do they cast her aside to complete their war of revenge? In this tale of alliances and betrayals, the line between savior and destroyer blurs, challenging the very fabric of fate.Preview:"Someone is this morning." His voice rumbled in desire. "You smell divine, Cherie." He softly my inner thighs, sending waves of pleasure through me. “Do you like waking in our arms? My brother holding you all night while I molest this perfect body you have." He moved his body to lay at my waist, placing my legs over his shoulders. I looked up to his brother, asking as seductively as I could, “Should I let your brother have his way with me?""I think you should always do as we tell you." His dark voice replied.

Astrid turned and her jaw nearly dropped in shock. "Xavier?" Her forherr mate, who ever bullied her with his bitch for thousands of time and rejected her without any hestiation, while smiled at her brightly. "I'm here to take you home." "I am not going back with you." "You have no choice. " Xavier pulled her arm and yanked her forward ignoring her struggles. Suddenly, a deep and cold voice interrupted them. "Am I interrupting you two?" Both of them were looking back. It was Alpha Jaxon. The most powerful and crueless Alpha in the world, who owned Astrid as his surroagte. ***************************************************************** Alpha Jaxon placed her directly on top of the librarian's massive desk. His hands began to wander all over her body touching her neck, her breasts, squeezing her ass. "Alpha Jaxon." His name left her lips as a moan before she was even conscious of what she was saying. He began to push up the voluminous skirts of her gown pulling her to the edge of the desk where he pressed up against her, his erection rubbing against her and making her feel so darn hot. She moaned even louder and Alpha Jaxon kissed the top of her breasts making her shiver. When he raised his head, his eyes were darker and his voice laboured. "Today is your ovulation day, right?"

“You’re trembling, little bride.” His voice was velvet and sin, wrapping around her throat like a leash. “Is it fear… or excitement?”He says in a husky voice, she could feel the burn of it on her skin. She should have run the moment she stepped inside his cathedral of darkness. Should have ignored the way his black wings unfolded behind him like a promise of ruin. Should have looked away from the monster with heaven in his eyes and hell on his lips. But when he touched her? When he whispered mine against her skin? She realized monsters were far more tempting than saints. Bound by an ancient vow she never agreed to, she’s dragged into a world of fallen angels, deadly desires, and dangerous obsession where one possessive creature is determined to claim her as his bride. He doesn’t want her heart. He wants her surrender. And the worst part? Every filthy promise dripping from his mouth makes her crave him more. Because behind those wicked smiles and sinful hands lies a man willing to burn heaven itself just to keep her. CLAIMING HIS BRIDE is a dark paranormal romance filled with obsessive love, possessive monsters, dangerous temptation, wicked tension, and a heroine who discovers that being claimed may be the most intoxicating sin of all.

The boy, George Larson, whom I once saved as a child, when he was struggling with asthma, repaid my kindness by imprisoning me for seven long years. "Luna, you're my everything. I won’t let you out of my sight," he said, his voice filled with obsession. He tied my hands and feet, keeping me bound to the bed like a helpless doll, but I did not love him; I wanted to escape. In his madness, he set fire to my family’s ancestral home. The last traces of the Sachs burned to ashes, disappearing into the wind. He said that since my home was gone, I could just live with him and that it would be my new home. However, because I refused to let him touch me, he found someone else—a girl with a beauty mark under her eye, just like mine. The girl, drunk on his affection, thought I was trying to imitate her by faking the same tear-shaped mark. In a fit of jealousy, she gouged out my eyes. My face was covered with tiny, bleeding holes, blood streaming down my body. When George came home, the girl gleefully stuffed me into a trash bag, proud of her handiwork. “George, look! I caught some trash that broke into the house!” George did not even glance at me. He just loosened his tie, his voice calm and detached. “Just toss it where trash belongs.”

The plane touched down in Tripoli at dusk. Behind me, the sky was on fire. I pulled out my phone and typed a message to my husband, Don Vito Hart. [I'm here. I came to bring you home.] No reply. I called his underboss, Enzo Stark. His voice was hesitant. "You… you really went to Libya?" An explosion rattled the terminal windows. My heart slammed against my ribs. "Which district is he in?" A long pause. Then, quieter: "He never left the country." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "The business trip… it was a lie." The line went dead. A photo appeared on my screen. Time-stamped today. Vito was smiling. Bright, but something behind his eyes looked tired. His arm was wrapped around a woman. They were blowing out candles on a birthday cake. I recognized her instantly. Rosa Quinn. The woman he'd knelt and sworn on his mother's grave never to see again. Three years ago. I still had the scar on my own palm where I'd made him swear. Vito had forgotten. Today was my birthday too. My phone buzzed again. "Sera, the truth is—the Don never ended things with Rosa. We all knew. But you two seemed so happy… no one dared tell you." I read the message twice. Then I slipped the phone into my pocket. There was no need to pretend anymore.

"Why did you put me through that?" I asked, taking a moment to delve into his intense gaze. "Do you really despise me that much?" Dimitri hissed, his voice sharp like a knife. "Isabelle, be careful with what you say." "Why should I even try?" I shot back, matching his intensity. "That’s enough!" Dimitri growled, his voice low and menacing. Before I could respond, he roared, halting my words in their tracks. He seized my arms, pushing me against the wall. My heart raced, and the fire in his gaze intensified. This is unbearable! There’s no escaping destiny anymore. His lips crashed onto mine, stealing my breath and breaking through all my defenses. --- Isabella Rosa Santacruz is a witch on the run, her blood linked to a prophecy that positions her as the key to the universe. Throughout her life, she has evaded monsters and myths, always staying a step ahead—until now. Dimitri Axel Castellan, known as the Blood Alpha, is feared, ruthless, and weighed down by a cursed pack fated to perish on the eleventh blood moon. However, when he encounters Isabella—the one person he never expected—everything shifts. She becomes the air he can’t breathe without, even if loving her means sacrificing everything, including his own life. Will their connection protect them from the impending chaos, or will it pull them apart?

What happens when your secret crush is your Boss and surprisingly he asks you to become the substitute mother to his daughter? Stacy Hills is a timid girl with no rights of her own in the hands of her very own father who is more than willing to her off to get more money to spend on and in the nearby club because to him Stacy is nothing but an invaluable object used for his own advantage. She is forced by her father to sign marriage documents to her old college bully who wanted nothing more than to get between Stacy’s legs and dominate her by any means possible. Stacy for the first time refused to abide by her father's commands. In a fit of anger, her father raised his hand, poised to strike Stacy across the face. However, before he could act, a chilling threat filled the room, freezing him in place. "If you lay a hand on her, I will not hesitate to take every measure to ensure you are imprisoned for assaulting a woman, even if that woman happens to be your own daughter," a deep, menacing voice threatened, causing Ethan's hand to pause mid-air. "Yes! No one dares to hurt my substitute mummy!” A young girl's voice said, coming out from behind her Dad. "If anyone dares, then they'll face a cruel punishment from my daddy,” She had a serious look on her cute little face.

“I am sorry, Mr. Thomas, but I am married—" "To an asshole," Thomas interrupted, his voice dripping with disdain. My eyes flashed with anger. "To my husband," I corrected. Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Your husband doesn't know or care that you're crying because he's in there flirting with another woman." My face burned with shame. "He's just socializing," I defended, frustration betraying my words Thomas snorted. "By trying to get into her pants." He smirked, moving closer while I retreated, the space between us shrinking with every step. "I am sorry, Mr. Thomas, but my marital life is none of your business." "Only I can decide that." He said, his smirk twisting into a snarl I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Say one more word and I'll have you right here and now" he said, his voice a low, husky growl. His finger traced the curve of my face, my heart racing and I felt my defenses crumbling. In a lightning-fast move, his lips slammed into mine, crushing me with a kiss that was both savage and intoxicating. ****** Two people, different worlds, with just one thing in common - Secrets. What happens when formidable sparks begin to brew and secrets threatens to unravel?

“Please stop, you're drunk,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I tried to push him off. His body was heavy against mine, his movements sluggish but persistent. He barely heard me. “How old are you?” he murmured, his voice thick with alcohol. “18,” I gasped, heart racing in a mix of fear and confusion. “Then you're already an adult” he said with a low chuckle, as though that settled everything. I should’ve stopped it. I should’ve left. But I didn't have the strength to argue, didn't have the will to stop him. He moved against me again, and that's when I felt something cold touch the most intimate part of me…. I woke up alone in a dimly lit room. He was still there, his back turned to me, but his face-his identity-was still hidden behind the mask. I glanced down at his left shoulder. A Phoenix tattoo. Bold. Intriguing. But then, I didn't hesitate. I grabbed my things and ran, my heart racing as I left the room without another word. It was supposed to be just a night. One meant to be forgotten. And that's exactly what I intended to do. I didn't know his name. I didn't even know his face. It was a night meant to stay buried in the past. It was a night I promised myself I’d forget. But that promise broke when pregnancy came knocking.

His blood is still on my hands when he presses me to the wall. He's not kissing me yet, just his breath at my throat and his fingers tugging the waistband of my scrubs like he owns what’s under them. "I kill for you, doctor," he growls, voice thick with threat and worship. "The least you can do is stop pretending you don’t like it." I should run, instead, I tilt my chin—and dare him to try. Dr. Elena Vance never meant to save a mafia king. One moment, she’s leaving a trauma shift. The next, she’s elbow-deep in blood, patching up a man with a gun under his belt and death in his eyes. That man is Dante Volkov. Russia’s most wanted heir. New York’s rising Pakhan. And now? Elena’s captor. His offer is simple: Marry him or disappear forever. She bargains for three months.Three months to resist the Bratva’s crown prince. Three months to prove she’s no one’s possession. But Dante doesn’t play fair. He wages war with his hands, his mouth, his voice—claiming Elena in every room, every breath, every ruined rule. And as old enemies rise and family blood spills, one thing becomes terrifyingly clear: Elena isn’t just married to the mob. She’s becoming one of them.