We Dystopian

My sister Isolde and I used to be human. The twin vampire princes, Caelum and Dorian, turned us and married us. The entire vampire world celebrated. Two human sisters, personally turned by the Crown Princes? It was the highest honor a mortal could receive. We believed we were loved. We were fools. Five months into my pregnancy, I was attacked by a group of exiled vampires in the forest beyond our territory. I called Caelum nine times. He didn’t pick up. The exiles circled me, cutting into my arms and legs with blades that burned. Pain tore through my body. I called a tenth time. This time, Caelum’s cold voice came through: “Haven’t you had enough? Vivienne is being tracked by hunters. Stop bothering me.” Vivienne was the human girl that both princes truly loved. The one who had refused to be turned. With nothing to stop them now, the exiles closed in. Their leader drove a blade into my stomach. I watched the light leave my body from the inside out, and felt my unborn child die. When I was close to death, my sister Isolde found me and fought the exiles off. But there were too many. Isolde was badly wounded. She called her husband Dorian for help. All she got was: “Looking for Vivienne. Don’t bother me.” Isolde carried me and ran. A storm hit and we were caught in the open at dawn—deadly for wounded vampires. The border patrol found us just in time. We barely survived. When I woke up in the infirmary, my first thought was simple: Sever the bond.

The day after my best friend, Sarah Blunt married Patrick, the second son of the Brosnan family, I too became a bride and wed Matthew, his older brother. She married a swimming champion, and I, the rock-climbing coach. We thought we had our futures all figured out. Then, something happened that summer. The four of us planned a getaway but Matthew and Patrick’s baby sister, Megan joined us and our peaceful trip became a crowded affair.  While rock climbing, disaster struck—the rope snapped, and all five of us plummeted into the river below. The brothers rushed frantically to save Megan, leaving Sarah and me at the mercy of the river’s current, battered and tossed like driftwood. By the time the rescue team pulled us from the water, we were bruised, scraped, and utterly spent. In the hospital, Megan and I received devastating news that would change everything.  “You’ve been pregnant for 40 days, Ma’am. How could you put yourself in such a risky situation? Your baby survived, but your friend lost hers.” Shaken, I called Matthew to tell him about the pregnancy. His anger cut through the line. “You’re angry that I went to Megs first and now you’re trying to fool me with a fake pregnancy? She’s my sister—it’s my duty to protect her!” Sarah faced her own storm. Patrick practically scoffed at her grief. “Miscarriage? Do you expect me to believe that? The doctors said you only had a 30% chance of conceiving. I can’t stand women who create drama out of nothing.” Both calls ended abruptly, leaving us stunned as we stared at each other in the sterile light of the hospital room. In that shared silence, we made our decision—we would leave these men behind and start anew, launching a business together. But when the brothers received our divorce papers, they showed up at my door in the middle of a storm, kneeling in the pouring rain, crying through the night for a second chance.

On the way to get our marriage certificate for the twentieth time, Rolf Trivett regretted it once again. In eight years, this was our twentieth attempt to get the certificate. But every time we reached City Hall, he would always say he needed time to care for his seriously ill childhood friend and couldn't promise to marry me. This time, I couldn't take it anymore and asked him, "If she’s never going to get better, does that mean you’ll never marry me? What am I to you?" Rolf immediately lost his temper and yelled at me, "I've already promised to take care of her for life. Can you stop being so selfish? "Besides, we've been together for eight years. What difference does it make if we don't get this certificate?"

I was ditched by my father, Alpha of Northcrest Pack. Dumped in the borderlands for a whole decade. "Danae's still young. Once she hits eighteen, we'll bring you back. She's always been insecure 'cause she's adopted. When she's stronger, we'll come for you." Yeah, right. I didn't even look at that delusional she-wolf. Just kept watering my orchard. Even my so-called brother backed Danae. "Danae's the sister I grew up with. Disrespect her when you return, and we're done." Their voices? Just white noise. I shut it down cold. "Wrong wolf. I don't know you." They had the nerve to call themselves family. Joke's on them—I've had real parents for the last eight years.

***WARNING THIS BOOK CONTAINS LOTS OF EXPLICIT SCENES, VIOLENCE, AND VULGAR LANGUAGE*** I was a fool to think that I could play with fire and not be burned. To think that once I had a taste of her, I would have been able to let go. To think that once I was all in, we wouldn’t be caught. The problem was that. That we were so focused on my best friend and her father finding out about us, and didn’t see what was brewing against us. Not until it was too late, and she had been taken right from under my nose. Now. Now, I’m out for blood. Because no one touches what belongs to Alberto Morello and lives to tell it. The problem is that there are more traitors than we thought, but I don’t mind bringing hell on earth to find my goddaughter. Because I. Will. Find. Her.

18+ Skin. Sweat. Surrender. No apologies. Just the filthy, holy truth of what we do when the lights are off. In the hush between heartbeats, desire speaks its own language. These stories peel back the skin of restraint to reveal the raw, trembling want beneath - hands that linger too long, mouths that confess what daylight forbids, bodies that remember every sin they were never supposed to commit. From velvet-shadowed hotel rooms to rain-slicked backseats, from whispered commands to wordlessly surrender, from collars that lock with a soft click to knees that bruise beautifully on marble, from words like "please" and "good girl" to the moments we steal when no one is watching... and the ones we can't stop replaying even when they are filthy. No slow burns. No fade to black. Just wet mouths, spreading thighs, fingers that don't ask permission, and orgasms that leaves teeth marks.

Grayson Page is forced to marry a young woman—Belle Walters. But Belle is extremely disobedient and wreaks havoc on a daily basis.Enraged, Grayson declares, "We will get a divorce as soon as the marriage contract is up!"Two years later, the marriage contract is up. Everybody waits with anticipation for him to get the divorce he had vowed to get.Grayson stops Belle from leaving the house and seduces her relentlessly.Unable to leave, Belle intends to arrange for someone to come to the house to handle the divorce procedures."I will kill whoever dares to step foot in here! And if you ever dare to leave the house, I'll break your legs!" Grayson threatens.Exasperated, Belle cries. Grayson instantly transforms into the gentlest person on Earth. Holding her in his arms, he coaxes, "There, there, darling. Be good, okay? We won't be getting a divorce. We'll make babies so that they can entertain you."

My mother-in-law and I were traveling together. We'd just checked into the Solenne Hotel in Rivera City and decided to hit the pool. Then this woman—dressed like money and attitude—pinched her nose like we stank. "This is a luxury hotel. How did you people even get in? Sneak in just for the pool? Ugh, I need a test after this." Buzzkill. I snapped, "It's a hotel pool. Guests swim. If that's a problem, go build your own." Her face twisted. "Excuse me? Do you even know who I am? My husband owns this place. We always stay in the top suite. So get out. You reek of broke. You're contaminating the water." Georgina and I traded a look. Ice cold. This was her son's hotel. My husband's. Since when did he come with a second wife?

‘Why are the tastiest apples always forbidden? Why do we have to sacrifice our love because our parents got engaged?’ These questions rushed through my mind as he kissed me deeply, pinning me against the wall. I knew that after this, he would say cruel things to me with those same lips, but I couldn't resist him. I loved him but I hated myself for loving him. “Marcus, please. We can't keep doing this.” I begged. But as usual, he ignored my pleas and continued in his caresses, making me want him more. We were lost in our forbidden desires once again, not realizing that the door was left unlocked. Why does my stepbrother keep seducing me? What if our parents discover our secret affair?

During a road trip with my girlfriend, we accidentally collided with a limousine. Just as we were joking about having to pay an outrageous sum in compensation, the owner stepped out of the car. He greeted us warmly, asked if we were hurt, and even insisted we didn't need to pay a dime. But that simple gesture sparked a huge misunderstanding in my girlfriend's mind. At the proposal ceremony, she flat-out rejected me, ran to the restroom, and called her best friend to vent. "They're both Vanders, but Josh is a penniless loser, and Alexander is the richest man in the city! "The fortune teller said my true love's surname is Vander. If that's the case, why can't it be the richest man instead of Josh? "I looked it up. That car owner is Alexander. And he didn't even want me to pay for rear-ending him. He must have fallen in love with me at first sight! "In love, there's no such thing as first come, first served. I won't accept Josh's proposal. I'm going to marry the richest man!" A shiver ran through me. My years of devotion to her had moved only me. What she didn't know was that the 'richest man' she was dreaming of marrying wasn't anyone else—he was my father.