Unscramble Quietly

His fingers slid into my hair, tugging just enough to tilt my head back and expose my throat to him. “We shouldn’t be doing this, Mr. Turner,” I breathed, my voice breaking on a gasp as he found a sensitive spot just beneath my ear and sucked lightly. His growl was low and primal, vibrating through my skin as he pressed his body against mine. I felt every hard line of him, his heat bleeding through my clothes. “Why not?” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained need. I swallowed hard. “You’re… you’re my ex-fiancé’s father.” He paused. For a moment, everything stilled… his breath against my throat, the air between us, even the rain outside seemed to hesitate. Then he lifted his head, and our eyes locked. His were a stormy blue, intense and unwavering. “No one has to know, Catherine,” he said quietly, his voice was like a dark promise wrapped in silk. Then he leaned in with his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I can be your dirty secret.” A shiver ripped down my spine. His words settled deep in my gut, awakening something dangerous. I bit my lip. Every cell in my body screamed for me to walk away but I didn’t. Instead, I gripped the front of his shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him hard. Desperately. He rumbled low in his chest, kissing me back with equal hunger, his hands roaming my body like he already knew every curve. When he finally broke the kiss, I was breathless. Then he dropped to his knees between my legs, with his eyes darker now. “I’m going to show you the world,” he said. “If you’d let me.”

WE'RE BACK! Yes, your favorite cousins are back at it again, but this time it ain't about me. So, buckle up and grab your wine glasses, because it's gonna be crazy! Mina’s POV: Wait a damn minute. Am I in hell? Because if I am, I need to speak to HR. I didn't even get a chance to plead my case, give a reference or something. I'm about to start freaking out because, I'm not a “go to hell” and mean it type of person. I can't do heat for five minutes let alone an eternity. I feel like giving my life to save a baby and a man should have gotten me at least joint visitation six months in heaven and six months in hell. “Mina, are you awake?” I heard the voice quietly say next to my ear. I tried opening my eyes, but it felt like I had sand in them. I decided to try speaking, but only let out something that sounded like a sick animal. "Wait right there let me get you some water.” I heard a voice whisper again. Who the hell is that? I have heard that voice before but couldn't figure out who the hell it was. “! We need to move; they've found us.” The voice came again. Wait, what? Who the hell are they? I tried opening my eyes again, this time I managed to get them open enough to see the figure picking me up bridal style. Then the stranger turned his head to look directly in my eyes and I knew instantly who it was. “Blaze? You gotta be shitting me.” I said, obviously shocked. “Hey, can we join the party? I hope you are serving food because we are famished.” I heard a man say.

[WARNING STRONG MATURED CONTENTS] Beside me, I sensed his movement as he turned towards me, his eyes searching for mine. I purposely avoided meeting his gaze, instead focusing on calming my racing breath. But try as I might, my breath still trembled, betraying my inner turmoil. Despite my rapid blinking, a single tear escaped, making its way down my cheek. I heard the covers rustle as he shifted closer to me. His finger gently brushed against my face, capturing the tear. "I'm sorry, Hailey," his voice resonated in the dimly lit room, both deep and gentle. His touch was followed by a soft stroke through my brunette hair and a tender kiss on the crook of my neck. "I know this isn't what you wanted," he murmured, regret evident in his voice. "It doesn't matter," I replied quietly, my gaze still fixed on the ceiling. His apology felt like a stab to the heart, but I couldn't hold him responsible. Our circumstances were far beyond our control.Swallowing hard, I tried to push down the ache in my chest. "It was unavoidable, it isn't your fault," I muttered, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark, tousled hair. His arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to him. I allowed my cheek to rest against his strong chest, finding some solace in his comforting presence. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat brought a sliver of comfort to my shattered emotions. "I wish I could have given you more time to get to know me before all of this," he confessed, a touch of bitterness seeping into his words. "But those old Elders insisted on sealing our union immediately."

“You stare like you’re trying to memorize me,” she murmured quietly, without looking up. He stepped closer, voice rough. “I already have. Every inch. Every sigh. But I still feel like I’m starving for you.” He walked up behind her. His fingers trail over her collarbone, slow, reverent. She shivers. “You shouldn’t touch me like that,” she whispered. “Say stop, and I will. But don’t lie.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against the side of her neck. Her breath hitched. “This… this is dangerous.” He murmured, “You’re the most dangerous thing in my life. I’ve killed men with steadier hands than I have when I’m near you.” She turned to face him, their eyes locked. One look—everything trembled between them. “Let me ruin every thought you have of gentleness, Inayat. Let me be the fire you crave but don’t dare name.” He lifted her, gently, set her on the table beside the couch. His hands lingered on her thighs, the tension coiling like smoke in the air. He whispered, “You asked me once why I watch you like I might break. It’s because loving you has become my most violent instinct.” *** When King Agnil is betrayed and slain by his own commander, Samarth, his kingdom falls into chaos—and his daughter, Inayat, becomes the obsession of the man who murdered her father. Years later, the exiled prince, Ayman, returns to reclaim the throne. His plan? Use Samarth’s sister as a weapon of revenge. But as vengeance tangles with emotion, Ayman finds himself torn between justice and the forbidden pull of love. Can he destroy the man who stole everything—without losing the girl who might save him?

Elena had once believed that silence could mean safety. That a gentle hand and a warm cup of tea placed quietly on her desk every morning could be a form of love. Lucien was never cruel—not in the obvious ways. He remembered how she liked her eggs, noticed when she swapped her perfume, and sent flowers on days he knew she wouldn’t expect them. He raised her like one would raise a pet—softly, without question. And Elena, foolish in the way only the very lonely can be, mistook his quiet affection for devotion. She told herself he was reserved. Mysterious. That love didn’t always wear its heart on its sleeve. But when the old flame returned—the one who spoke his language without needing to try—Elena saw it. The difference. He looked at her like a man who had found his lost religion. And Elena? She had simply been convenient. No tears, no scene. Just papers on the breakfast table, beside the eggs he cooked perfectly. She didn’t accuse or beg. She only asked for freedom. He didn’t sign. He chuckled. A soft, dismissive sound. “A cat raised indoors doesn’t know how to survive on the street, Elena. You’ll come back." But she didn’t. She disappeared, like smoke—except she didn’t vanish, not really. She lived. She wore colour again. Laughed at bad jokes. Let strange men hand her coffee and ask for her number. Lucien? He watched. He watched her become someone without him. And it drove him mad. The night he cornered her outside the gallery, rain in his hair and desperation in his eyes, he looked like a man undone. "Elena," he breathed, "please. Look at me. Just once." She did. Calm as ever, and her love already gone.

Thor and I grew up together—we were the definition of childhood sweethearts. We'd promised to attend the same university, graduate, and marry right after senior year. Everyone envied us. They said we were a perfect match, destined for a lifetime together. And I believed that too. I truly thought I'd spend the rest of my life with him. Until the final semester of our senior year in high school, when a new transfer student named Lina joined our class. At first, the two barely spoke. But as they grew familiar, their bond deepened in ways I could no longer ignore. He started staying after school to tutor her, bringing her breakfast every morning. When she was upset, he'd take her for a drive along the coast. If she craved Italian steak, he'd have fresh cuts flown in. Even during her period, he'd quietly prepare everything she needed. I was furious. I confronted him, argued with him, and even threatened to break up. The first time I said it, he thought I was joking and coaxed me out of my anger. The second time, he dismissed it as another tantrum and tried different ways to please me. The third time, he broke down—standing outside my house in the pouring rain all night, half kneeling before me, begging for forgiveness. Again and again, I tried to leave, and every time, he refused to let me go. Yet with each reconciliation, something in him shifted. He started taking me for granted, assuming I would always come back. His patience wore thin. His apologies turned perfunctory. Even when he came to make peace, there was no sincerity left in his voice. So I said it for the hundredth time, and that was the last. That was the moment I finally gave up on him.

She thought he was her dream—until he became her wrecking ball. Mia believed in fairy tales because her parents lived one. Raised in love, she dreamed of a man like her father: gentle, loyal, and kind. So when Noah Bradford walked in with a charming smile and stormy eyes, she thought she had found forever. But Noah wasn’t a dream. He was every warning wrapped in temptation. At twenty-five, he used love like a weapon. Haunted by a past where love meant betrayal, he vowed never to feel again. Mia wasn’t special—just another target. She should have walked away. But Mia stayed. Even when it hurt, even when he tried to break her, she held on—believing love could fix him. Then came Christian Turner. Assigned as Mia’s bodyguard, he quickly became more than a shadow. Calm, protective, and quietly intense, Christian vowed to keep her safe—because in his eyes, Mia’s tears weren’t just pain. They were danger. And Noah had done nothing but make her cry. Christian’s mission is clear: protect Mia, even if it means standing between her and the man she still loves. Even if Noah dares to return. But Mia’s heart isn’t the only thing at risk. Ava, the woman who discarded Noah, wants him back. Hannah, the only woman he ever loved, has unfinished business. And Isabella—Mia’s younger sister—is hungry for Noah, and the family fortune, too. Trapped between her past and a man who would burn the world to protect her, Mia must face the truth: sometimes love doesn’t heal. It destroys. Will she walk away with her heart intact or lose herself trying to save someone who never wanted to be saved?

It had been five years since I started dating Ross Jenner. His family invited my mother and me to their family home in Fellaton to discuss our wedding plans and to spend Valentine's Day together. It was past 10:00 PM when my mother and I landed, but Ross wasn't there to pick us up because his college junior, Laurel Elledge, had just arrived in Fellaton. He told me to figure out a way to get a cab to the house myself. In a strange place, unfamiliar with the area, it wasn't long before we found ourselves in danger. Just over ten minutes outside the airport, we were robbed. My mother was injured while trying to protect me, and she collapsed, bleeding heavily. Desperate, I held onto her, frantically trying to call Ross. Each call was abruptly cut off, and when I finally reached him, he sounded irritated. "Jennifer, you're an adult, so stop acting like a child. You couldn't even hail a cab on the street? Laurel just got to Fellaton and isn't feeling well. I need to take care of her." Without waiting for a response, he hung up. I tried calling again, only to find that I had been blocked. In the end, my mother's injuries were too severe, and she bled out before the doctors could save her. As I stared at her lifeless body, tears flowed uncontrollably. When I finally checked my phone again, the first thing I saw was a picture Ross had posted on Twitter. In the photo, he was kissing Laurel and holding a bouquet of roses. [Spending Valentine's Day with the one I love most.] I quietly threw the gifts I had brought from home into the trash. Then, I left a comment, which said, [Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.]

"You stupid whore," Jasper snarls, fingers digging into my arms hard enough to bruise, shaking me like I'm nothing. "Name the bastard who dared touch what's mine, or I'll carve it out of you myself... rip that filthy seed from your womb and make you watch." ----- One reckless night of freedom, a stranger's fangs at my throat, his cock splitting me open as he growls, “Cum on this cock, you lying little virgin bitch. Squeeze me like the greedy cumdump you’ve always been underneath all that lace. I’m gonna flood your womb so deep you’ll carry my seeds while you swear forever to another man.” ---- And my perfect mafia wedding implodes into hell. I fall at the altar and wake up pregnant. Shame turns to bloodlust. “Puttana sporca." Families clash, knives half‑drawn, abortion demanded. My body no longer mine, just flesh to be gutted and erased. Then the door crashes open and Jasper drops to an instant bow and whispers, "Father." The man strides in and squats beside me, inhaling my scent and his voice cuts into me "Why,” he asked quietly, “do I smell my pup in you?” I stare up wide-eyed at the stranger ... and then at my new husband bowing to him, and realization hit me...I am carrying my father-in-law's child. The untouchable werewolf alpha, Dax Blackthorne, the monster who buries empires and enemies alike... just claimed the forbidden growing in my womb. His pup. Born of one drunken savage knot. In a blood‑soaked empire ruled by taboo claims, werewolf dominance, clashes, and mafia violence, a fragile human girl must harden into something venomous or be consumed alive by men who believe her body, her womb, and her fate already belong to them. One filthy mistake. One impossible pup. And now everything burns.

My father was critically ill. I begged my fiancé to keep his post-wedding promise—to withdraw emergency funds from the medical trust fund he had sworn to protect me forever. He refused. The next day, he announced his engagement to Pera. Overnight, I became the laughingstock of everyone. In my deepest despair, my childhood friend Seamus— The heir to a long-established Mafia family— Knelt down in the park and proposed to me in front of everyone. That night, he transferred a large sum of money to my account. I said yes without hesitation and rushed to the hospital to pay for my father's treatment. But he never woke up again. The hospital said he had suffered "unexpected complications." Everything after that—the lawyers, the funeral, all the arrangements—was handled by Seamus. Under the Mafia family's protection, everything went smoothly, and my father was able to be quietly buried. The wedding proceeded as planned. Years later, I overheard a conversation between him and the doctor who treated my father. “Seamus,” the doctor said in a low voice, “You tampered with the organ allocation priority list. You delayed Shirley’s father’s transplant so that Pera’s father could receive an organ transplant in time. You falsified the urgency level. Do you know what will happen if this is exposed?” “The list itself was legal,” Seamus replied after a pause. “I just…adjusted the urgency level.” “You committed medical fraud,” the doctor said sharply. “You ruined his only chance to live. All for Pera. Don’t you regret it?” “I don’t regret it,” Seamus answered without hesitation. “I would do anything for her. Even my life, even the honor of the Mafia family.” “Throughout our marriage, I’ve been trying to make up for everything I owed Shirley. That should be enough.” My vision blurred. Only then did I finally understand— My marriage, into which I had poured my heart and soul, was never built on love. It was a meticulously planned act of atonement. The woman he