Throat Tightness

BLURB “Mr Geal, we can't please.” her voice breaks as he trailed his fingers down jaw to her lips. Her breath comes out in gasps as she tightens her legs together, “Please, you are betrothed.” she murmured. His hands move to her neck where he tightens them whispering, “It doesn't matter,” he growls, his fingers finding their way beneath my skirt. “I am yours anyway.” He doesn't give her a second before his fingers sweep her panties aside, and find their way home. “Holy hell-” therest of the words is jumbled in her throat as he slams his lips against hers ~~~~~~ Olivia Macurry, a woman whose lifetime goal was to stop stripping. She wanted nomore than a white collar job where she wouldn't have to open her legs to get paid. After getting ordered by a man whopaid fifteen thousand dollars to have her for the night, she agreed but she didn't keep to the bargain. Now her new boss is the same blue eyed man that paid for a night with her, the same man she left when he was in the bathroom barely an hour after their first round. But it's too late because he wants her again. Just a taste, and he's addicted. He won't let her go, not even when he is buried six feet under. He can't stop, he must have her after all he paid for a night. Obsession turns into attraction. Attraction turns into possession. Possession turns into pure madness. He refuses to let her go yet he is betrothed to another. Secrets, lies, betrayal, and anger drives their relationship towards madness as everything is turned upside. But then Leonardo's best quality was that he thrived in chaos, and even though he is betrothed he belonged to her. Body, mind, and fucking soul.

*Smut After her mate's brutal rejection, healing prodigy Sandra surrenders to a dangerously seductive stranger in a dark alley, only to discover he's her uncle Marcus. Trapped by blackmail in his isolated house, forbidden desire ignites between lessons. But Marcus harbors a deadly secret about her father's death. ----------------- “Fuck, Sandra,” he growled, thumb brushing over my nipple through the fabric until it stiffened, aching. “Vanessa’s right upstairs. If she hears us—” “I don’t care,” I panted, rocking up against him, chasing that thick pressure. “Make me forget today. Just tonight. Please.” I’m going straight to hell,” he muttered, then closed the gap. His mouth took mine slow this time, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. I sighed into it, hands sliding up his chest to grip his shoulders. He tasted like black coffee and smoke and sin, and I wanted more. He tugged me closer, one hand fisting in my hair, the other splayed low on my back, pressing me against him. Heat flared low in my belly, spreading fast. I shifted, trying to ease the ache between my thighs, and he groaned against my lips, grip tightening. His tongue traced the seam of my mouth; I opened for him instantly, meeting him stroke for stroke until we were both breathing hard. He tilted my head back, lips moving down my throat, teeth grazing the frantic beat of my pulse. I gasped, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. “We should stop,” he rasped against my skin, but his hand was already pushing under my thin tank top, calloused palm gliding up my ribs. “We should,” I agreed breathlessly, then dragged his mouth back to mine, kissing him deeper, hungrier.

“I think it's about time you devour me.” I heard him say and I blinked. What was he talking about? A frown creased my face. His confidence and graceful poise seem to unnerve me. He had something about him I couldn't figure out, yet. “Wh-a-t did you say?” I stuttered, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from his face. He chuckled, then leaned closer to my ears. “I asked when you were going to devour me.” I flinched. What was he playing at? Was he flirting with me so openly? I willed myself to ignore his statement. I had a bigger task at hand to let myself be bothered by a pretty man. I cleared my throat and his eyes were now focused on me. “I have no time for your gimmicks. Excuse me.” I was leaving when I felt his hands draw me back. “You leave only when I ask you to.” He growled and I instantly felt my knees weaken. His voice carries with it some kind of authority. I felt my wolf curl inside of me. I have so many questions racing in my head. Who was this handsome stranger with so much nerves? ***** When Ava's mother fell ill, Ava vowed to go to the ends of the earth to save her. Ava got more shattered after finding her boyfriend in bed with her best friend. With her boyfriend's betrayal fresh in her mind, Ava moved on with a promise to lock her heart from any man. But the moon goddess has another plan for her. Dylan Gibson, the Savage Alpha had set his eyes on her. She had something he wanted. Something no one else could give him. Will Ava find love or she's just a means to an end?

I have known since childhood that I was destined to marry Kaden, the Alpha heir of the Moonstone pack. As the only one with the Moon-Blessed bloodline, I am the only person capable of breaking the curse that has haunted the Moonstone Alpha lineage for generations. A century ago, the Moonstone ancestor publicly insulted a fallen female Alpha during her funeral. He mocked her, saying, "She’s just a she-wolf. Why such an extravagant funeral? How could a woman ever protect our kind? She probably slept her way to the top." Goddess Selene was enraged. She cast a perpetual curse: every direct Alpha heir of the Moonstone pack would develop female traits on their eighteenth birthday, regressing into a lowly Omega. Only by mating with a Moon-Blessed wolf can the curse be lifted. I had been in love with Kaden for years and wanted nothing more than to save him. Maya claimed she also possessed the Moon-Blessed bloodline. Kaden tried to marry her, but I exposed her lie and stopped him. Forced by his parents, Kaden finally made me his Luna. After he marked me, Kaden didn’t regress into an Omega, but he didn't awaken his Alpha King bloodline either. That same night, a heartbroken Maya went for a walk in the woods alone, where she was cornered by a group of rogues and torn to pieces. My parents and Kaden hated me for it. They claimed I was a fraud whose bloodline was impure, which was why Kaden never truly ascended. They were convinced Maya was the real Moon-Blessed one. They believed my jealousy and lies had killed her and robbed Kaden of his chance to become the Alpha King. On a night of the full moon, Kaden tore my throat out in front of the entire pack. He tossed my body into a silver pool to let it corrode. The last thing I heard was his roar: "You lying bitch! Maya’s death is on your hands!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Kaden arrived at the Silver Moon pack to propose.

Her eyes widened in horror. The sound was unmistakable — the snap of a belt buckle, the hiss of it being undone. Then came the crash of fabric hitting stone. Terror exploded in her chest. She struggled violently, chains biting into her wrists until blood slicked her palms. Her chest heaved, heart pounding so hard it hurt. Ezra pressed harder, his knee locking her in place. One hand clenched her throat — not enough to choke, but enough to remind her she could not escape. His breath was ragged, wild, as if possessed. “You feel it too,” he growled against her skin. “Don’t lie to me, Nova. Your body wants this. You want me.” No. No, no, no. Her body burned, but it wasn’t for him. It was the cursed bond, the fire belonging to another. And that other… Her eyes filled with tears. Her lips shaped a silent prayer: Kilian. The bond within her surged like wildfire. Her chest arched, a gasp tearing from her throat. She felt it — claws raking down her soul, a storm breaking in her veins. He was here. He had come for her. *** Nova is a skilled hunter, fierce and independent, yet unaware of her true nature and the extraordinary destiny that awaits her. Humiliated by her fellow hunter colleagues for refusing to kill innocent wolves, she flees — only to be rescued by Kilian, the feared Lycan King. Thrust into his world, she must prove herself and earn her place within his pack, all while navigating the sharp wit, teasing sarcasm, and growing tension between them. Kilian is powerful, commanding, and fiercely protective, yet finds himself drawn to Nova in ways he cannot explain. Their connection develops slowly, charged with banter, challenges, and unacknowledged desire. But Nova is far more special and powerful than anyone could have predicted. Her choices, and the bond she shares with Kilian, will shape the fate of their world — deciding whether to destroy it, or to revolutionize and transform it for the better. As they uncover enemies deeply rooted in their lives, they must rely on their bond, courage, and love to face what comes next.

At nine months pregnant, I was in the final stretch of my term, and my body heavy with a baby due any day. But my husband, Vito Falcone, underboss of the family, had locked me away. He held me in a sterile underground medical room and injected me with a labor suppressant. As I screamed in agony, he coldly told me to endure it. Because his brother's widow, Scarlett, was expected to go into labor at the exact same time. A blood oath he'd made with his late brother declared that the firstborn son would inherit the family's lucrative West Coast territory. "That inheritance belongs to Scarlett's child," he said. "With Daemon gone, she is utterly alone and destitute. You have my love, Alessia. All of it. I just need her to deliver safely. Then it's your turn." The drug was a constant, agonizing torment. I begged him to take me to a hospital. He grabbed me by the throat, forcing me to meet his icy gaze. "Stop the act! I know you're fine. You’re just trying to steal the inheritance." "To get ahead of Scarlett, you'll stop at nothing." My face was ashen. My body convulsed as I managed a desperate whisper. "The baby's coming. I don't care about the inheritance. I just love you, and I want our child to be born safely!" He sneered. "If you were really that innocent, if you had an ounce of love for me, you wouldn't have forced Scarlett to sign that prenup, waiving her child's inheritance rights." "Don't worry, I'll be back for you after she's given birth. you're carrying my own flesh and blood, after all." He kept a vigil outside Scarlett's delivery room all night. It was only after seeing the newborn in her arms that he remembered me. He finally sent his second in command, Marco, to release me. But when Marco finally called, his voice was shaking. "Boss... the missus and the baby... they're gone." In that moment, Vito Falcone shattered.

When I was seven years old, my younger brother went into anaphylactic shock after sneaking a handful of peanuts. Outside the emergency room, my mother slammed my head against the wall over and over, her face twisted with rage. "If you had been watching him like you were supposed to be, this never would have happened! You should be the one with a ruptured stomach, not him!" After that, whenever my brother so much as caught a cold, my mother forced me to eat spoiled leftovers as punishment. I once prepared an elaborate feast. She flipped the entire table and made me crawl on the floor to lick it clean. When I said I wanted to study culinary arts, she poured hot oil over my hands. My father wanted to send me to vocational school to learn a trade, but my mother clutched my brother to her chest and wailed. "She destroyed her brother's health! She owes him a lifetime of service!" When I was fifteen, my brother's gluttony cost my father an important business deal. I took the blame without even being asked, and the furious client forced me to drink more than half a gallon of hard liquor. By the time I was sent home with a bleeding stomach, my father had already scolded my brother. My mother took out her anger on me instead, slapping me so hard my ears rang and my vision went dark at the edges. "You useless thing! You should’ve choked to death at that table! I get sick just looking at you!" I coughed up black blood. From my pocket, I pulled out a piece of sour candy that had gone soft and sticky. It was the only treat my mother had ever given me with a smile, back before my brother's allergic reaction. I put the candy in my mouth and swallowed it down with the taste of stomach acid. The candy was so sour it made my throat burn. Whatever came next, I just hoped I would not have to be my family’s garbage disposal again.

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.

I paid Curtis Robinett 200 thousand dollars a month to be a standby blood donor. My fiancée, Eden May, thought it was a waste of money. So she reassigned him to work part-time as her personal assistant instead. When Curtis accidentally submitted my marriage license appointment as a divorce filing for the 99th time, I kicked open Eden's office door. She didn't even look up. "We're in no rush to get married anyway," she said calmly. "Curtis is just careless. That's how he's always been." Later, in the emergency room, I called Eden while doctors rushed around me, my throat shredded from yelling. "Where's my emergency medical kit?" I rasped. "What did you do with it?" Curtis answered instead, his voice warm and smug. "You mean the expensive leather bag you kept in the cabinet? I swapped it out for a large party snack box. It holds everything just fine, and honestly, it looks a lot more cheerful. "Ms. May's brother and sister-in-law are both career soldiers. Your bag didn't really match that image, so I thought this would be more appropriate." My vision dimmed. My hands shook as I told Curtis to come donate blood. Eden laughed softly and cut in, "Stop pretending you're anemic just to get attention. If you're actually sick, deal with it. You're at the hospital; I think the doctors are fully capable of keeping you alive. Curtis is afraid of needles. He's not coming." Then, she hung up. She didn't appear until the surgical lights finally went dark. "Curtis had me bring you chocolate milk," she said. "It's good for recovery. It's not that he didn't want to help. He just faints at the sight of blood." She placed a settlement waiver on my bed. "I was the one who told him not to come. That 200-thousand-dollar monthly salary is his pay as my assistant. It has nothing to do with you. You didn't have to call the police for that. Sign this, and I'll go get the marriage license with you." I thought of what I had just seen in the operating room. Eden's brother, Harvey May, was bleeding out on the operating table, waiting for a lifesaving drug that never came. In the final moments of surgery, he could do nothing but lie there and die. I looked at her and said evenly, "You're the immediate family. It's not my place to sign that."