Valeria Tattoo Novels & Stories

We had been married for three years, yet my husband, Richard Thornton, who suffered from touch deprivation syndrome, still refused to consummate our marriage. Every time his condition flared up, he would only press his forehead tightly against the curve of my neck. I assumed he was saving himself for his first love, the woman who had left years ago. Then, I overheard him talking to his friends. "Stop teasing her next time. It makes her tense up every time." "Got it, Richard. But if you care about Valeria so much, why won't you touch her? It's been three years. Aren't you worried she'll leave you for someone else?" Richard shook his head. "You don't understand. The longer we're together, the harder it is to control myself around her. She's so delicate. I'm terrified I'll hurt her. As long as she's mine, I wouldn't care even if she slept with someone else first." His friends burst out laughing. "Richard, you're all talk. If you could really handle her being with another man, you wouldn't keep running to the hospital. You think we don't know what you're up to?" The next day, I found Richard's medical records. Visit after visit, he kept asking the same question, "How can I be gentler in bed? I don't want to hurt the woman I love."

EZREN: Kiss or kill. Those were always the two options left.. until the past walks back into my life in the form of blue eyes, ginger curls, and a tattoo he swears I should remember. Knox Graye. A diagnosed psychopath. Says he was my brother’s boyfriend. That I left him to die and that I hold the only truth to his death. He is everywhere. Digging up my lies. Ruining what’s left of my life. Call me ‘Cherry’ like it means something. I swear I hate it. I hate him. I don’t know if he wants closure, revenge, or just someone to break. Either way, I’m his target and his third option. KNOX: Everyone thinks I’ve got a loose screw in the head but they're wrong. I lost the whole damn toolbox, buried six feet under with the only person I ever loved. I've spent six years grieving. Dying in pieces while he rots away in a grave but now? Now someone else walk around in his bones, smiling with his lips like he fuckin’ owns it. Like I wouldn’t recognize my own goddamn Cherry. Except now he calls himself Ezren. Cute. He thinks he has been hiding behind top grades and golden-boy charm, but I built his whole damn maze. And now that he's close? I’m done with subtlety. I want chaos in his veins, his secrets peeled off like skin. I want to crawl into the part of his head where he still hears his brother’s laugh and whisper: “You were always mine." He doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to dismantle him. Brick by fucking brick. And when he finally breaks, I’ll be there to offer him a choice. “Kiss or kill, Cherry?”

“I sat on his lap, my face inches from his, my breath unsteady, his heat pressing against me as his eyes held mine. He dropped the cigar into a tray, leaned in, and his lips almost touched mine, but at the last moment I shifted, pulling back, and his low chuckle rumbled against my skin. “Oh, girl, you do not want to go down that path,” he said, his fingers tracing down the line of my neck until suddenly he stilled, his hand brushing against the tattoo marked into my skin. He leaned in closer, reading aloud in a low voice. “Jareth Gleb.” The name froze the air between us. “That’s… my father’s name,” I whispered, my breath shaky, and the moment the words left me, I saw the shock flash across his face. He grabbed my shoulders, pulling me off his lap so fast I stumbled. ” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Paris was born of divine blood, a Zara Spiritborn, daughter of beauty and seduction itself. Her face could stop hearts, her presence could ruin men. After losing her parents, she fell under the rule of her cruel stepmother, Selene, who turned her beauty into a weapon. By day, Paris was a princess. By night, she was the realm’s most desired stripper, dancing for masked Alphas who would pay mountains of gold just to touch her. Betrayed by the boy she loved and sold to Vincent the mad king, unknowingly to pay off a debt, only to discover that this tyrant is none other than her father’s brother. A man whose cruel hands are capable of untold violence and unspeakable desire. But passion bends every law, every taboo. Vincent finds himself falling for Paris is his niece and the only woman he should never desire but yet cannot resist.

The captain is dead to the world. And I’m the only one holding the kill switch. Ethan Carter, the "Glacier of Silvercrest," was the most feared Alpha to ever step onto the ice. Now, he’s nothing but a shell—a broken, comatose legend trapped in his own body. My life? It was supposed to be simple. Graduate, survive the pack’s bottom-tier status, and pay off my father’s ruinous blood-debts. Instead, the pack elders handed me a contract soaked in cold, hard malice: I am the designated "Stabilizer." My only job is to touch him, scent him, and keep his wolf from flatlining. I thought I was just a glorified nurse. I didn't realize the Alpha was listening. When Ethan finally wakes, he isn't the hero the Kingdom of Valeria remembers. He’s a starving predator with amber eyes that burn holes through my defenses and a temperament that makes the frost in the mansion seem warm. He hates the bargain, he hates the pack, and—most dangerously—he hates the way his scent turns wild whenever I’m near. He wants me out of his sight. I want to be out of his reach. But in a pack built on secrets, someone is still trying to finish the job they started on his life. Now, the man who wants me gone is the only one who can protect me. And as the rink turns into a battlefield, I’m realizing the most dangerous thing about the Alpha isn't his temper... it’s the fact that once he claims a mate, he doesn't know how to let go. Frozen hearts are meant to shatter. But in the fire of this pack, we’re both going to burn.

Valaria Westingdale is the Head Enforcer and Princess of the Westingdale panther pride. Her father, the King, William Westingdale, disapproves of her ambitions; he allowed her to be Head Enforcer until she is old enough to marry, but only just. King William believes in the traditions of their society; their pride is superior and meant to rule over all other preternatural creatures, every pack should keep their bloodlines pure, and women are only suitable for breeding. With the pressure of her betrothal and her father’s domineering thumb, Valaria would seem to be trapped in a life she doesn’t want. However, all that changed the day she was sent to spy and procure information from the wolf pack that just moved nearby. Dominic, the beta of his pack, caught Valaria watching him. Despite being from different species, they are captivated by one another. Soon, they discover that they are soulmates - nature’s predetermined physical, emotional, and metaphysical bond - a feat they believed impossible until now. Tradition says that soulmates can only connect to their own kind, and anything otherwise would be blasphemous. Something King William believes would be a threat to all preternatural kind, especially panthers. When he learns of his daughter’s bond with a wolf, he dubs her an abomination and threat to his throne - the exact reason he’s kept the different species apart for so long, forcing Valeria and Dominic to create their own pack. Remarkably, they are not the only interspecies soulmates, and their group resonates with creatures from all corners of the world. Vampires, Demons, Wolves, Panthers, and a plethora of otherkin join their “All Kinds Pack.” However, their formation marks the start of a war, not only with King William and his men but with Lucifer Morningstar himself.

Everyone knew Elio Carbone, Don of the Carbone family, was a cold-hearted womanizer. He had one rule: never sleep with the same woman twice. But for me, he broke it. The first day after our breakup, he stood outside the old Bianchi estate for a day and a night, his entire security detail in tow, just to win me back. The second day, he flew to Sicily and bought the deed to my family's ancestral estate at auction for triple its value, and had it delivered to me. The third day, he tattooed my favorite flower, the lily, over his heart. The tattoo artist said he refused any anesthetic and didn't make a sound. Later, at a banquet for the Five Families, in front of all the other Dons, he sliced his palm and made a blood oath. He swore loyalty only to Eleonora Bianchi for the rest of his life; if he broke his vow, he would pay with his life. After a year of his relentless pursuit, his devotion finally wore me down, and I agreed to take him back. I truly believed him then. That Elio truly loved me. Until one night. He took me to an underground racetrack to broker a deal with an ally. But in the roaring crowd, I saw a girl, trembling and crying, her clothes in tatters. Ava was shoved to the starting line. She was the wager for the death race. One look was all it took for Elio's face to darken. The next second, he dropped his hand from my waist and, without a word, walked toward the track entrance. I stood frozen, watching his back as he disappeared into the driver's seat of a modified sports car. I used to wake up crying, terrified he would lose his life in one of these reckless races. He had smashed his trophies, burned his marker for the illegal track, and sworn to God he would never again enter such a life-or-death gamble. My hand drifted to my stomach, covering the secret I hadn't yet had the chance to share. His blood oath was broken. And so was I.

Ethan and I met at a soup kitchen in the slums. We were fighting over half a moldy bread roll. I only learned his story from other people later. His father was the head of Lorencio's largest crime family, killed in a bloody power struggle from within. His mother took a payout and vanished. My father was an accountant for another family. He was framed for cooking the books and shot dead. Same story, same wound. That was what brought us together. We clawed our way up from a crumbling slum to the marble halls of the Lorencio crime families, until finally Ethan took his seat as Don of the Valeria Family. Nine years of marriage. No church. No proposal. Not even a proper cake. Then one day, out of nowhere, Ethan said he wanted to get me a diamond ring. "We had no church and no priest when we got married. I've been meaning to do this properly for a long time. And there'll be more to come." I stared at the custom diamond in the display case, enormous and flawless, and felt something close to happiness. The sales associate smiled and complimented his taste, mentioning that another couple had just ordered a ring too. They'd walked out minutes ago, planning a proposal for tomorrow. "Nine years together and still this in love. That's everything." I reached for his hand. He stepped away, said he needed to take a call. I hadn't heard his phone ring. I followed. Down the hallway, I watched him press a woman against the wall, his mouth on hers. His voice was sharp with jealousy. "You actually agreed to let him propose to you?" "Break it off. I'll buy you the ring." I stood frozen. My chest caved in. Then a pair of hands pulled me into a fitting room alcove. A man's breath was close, warm in the dark. A low voice, almost amused: "Your husband's sleeping with my fiancée. Why don't we give it a try too?"