Voss Novels & Stories

She paid premium for the privacy; he never asked why. Kai Voss, thirty-five, six-three, built like he’d spent half his life lifting his own bodyweight and the other half teaching others to do the same. Dark skin, shaved head, forearms corded from years of handstands and arm balances, tattoos curling like smoke from wrists to shoulders. His voice was low, calm, the kind that made people breathe deeper without realizing it.

"Don't be upset, Rayna. We're sorry. I'll warm you up. My hands are much warmer than a scarf." Caelum gently tapped her nose. "You get jealous so easily. How can you get upset over something so small? You didn't get enough of skiing in Sornland, so I picked this place especially for you. Isn't that good enough?" Upon hearing that, Rayna rose on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. "Thank you, Alpha Caelum." Caelum's gaze immediately darkened. He held the back of her head and deepened the kiss. Their lips and tongues entwined in a heated kiss.

Leo squeezes my hand. “Anything you wan Noves”

Because of her. Serena Voss. She's thirty-eight, married to my boss Marcus the "Voss" in Voss & Vine, and the definition of effortless elegance. She's tall and curvaceous, with porcelain skin, short auburn hair that falls in a sleek bob, and piercing green eyes that seem to strip away layers with one look. She owns an exclusive art gallery downtown, the kind where pieces sell for five figures and invitations to openings are coveted. She dresses like she stepped out of a magazine, tailored dresses that hug her full breasts and hips, heels that make her legs look endless, jewelry that's subtle but e

Calista led the man inside and Emily shrugged before going to sit beside Violet. “I don't mean to pry,”: Violet said, “But who is that man? He looks creepy, how can your mom let him inside her yard?” “I know right? He's around the same age as his boss, Chief Bassan but uglier.” Violet stiffled back a laughter and cleared her throat when she saw the workers staring at them, “Be nice.” She whispered to Emily. “I don't have to. He's really ugly. If they're not blind, they should know that, it's pretty obvious.”

The Voss Corporate Tower was a needle of glass and steel that pierced the smog of the city. Tonight, it glowed with a predatory gold. The elite of the city were arriving for the annual shareholders' gala, oblivious to the fact that the basement was a laboratory and the penthouse was a cage.

“Voss’s last known address was a research facility in Brooklyn. Abandoned on paper, but the power bills never stopped. You might want to see this yourself.” Adrian drove there alone. The warehouse was half hidden behind a row of derelict factories, windows covered in grime. Inside, dust lay thick on the floor, but the hum of electricity vibrated faintly through the air. He moved carefully, following the sound to a locked door at the back. The keypad blinked red until he tried an old code—one he’d used years ago in London, when Voss still called him protégé. The light turned green. He stepped inside.

No one made a sound except from the broken glasses of the vase the maids picked up from the floor. “Right." He scoffed and continued to pace. "We knew her father had money,” Margaret said carefully. “Money.” He laughed in an unpleasant sound. " Money.” He said again. " The Voss estate is in the outskirts because Elias Voss built himself an actual compound. The man doesn't have money, he has infrastructures and Camilla sat at our dinner table for three years.." his voice rose. “She sat right there and ate with us and we all knew nothing… Nothing!”