Wicked Novel Reviews Novels & Stories

“He makes clean ones.” The implication hung in the air. Quiet. Terrifying. “Then what did we see?” she asked. Sebastian’s voice dropped. “A performance.” Los Angeles welcomed them with sunlight. Too bright. Too normal. Blackwood Tower stood exactly as they had left it—untouched, powerful, hiding everything beneath polished glass and steel. But Ivy knew better now. Inside those walls— Nothing was stable anymore. They walked into the building together. Heads turned. People whispered. The tension was noticeable.

Eyeing the title ‘otherworldly potions’ Skye eyed it weakly while pushing the voice’s comments away from him. “You can’t deny that you’ve been an ass to her” the voice commented as Skye took a book and skimmed it lightly. “Who writes a book about what is inside a snake?” Skye shook his head before placing the book back. “Those who want to know what parts can be useful” the voice said sounding as if they were shrugging. “Whatever” Skye looked around the area carefully, there had to be a clue somewhere but the question was what were the hints?

N/B: This is a different book. A standalone in the Wickedly universe. It's been months since Freya Adams died. Everyone thinks it's an accident, but Allison Adams knows better. Freya was her sister, and they were close. So, so close. When the Adams family tries to get Allison to marry Paul Debarcio in Freya's place, Allison is scared and tries to escape. Paul killed Freya, and he would kill her too, because she knows too much about his crimes.

Lila woke slowly, her body heavy with the memory of the night before. The room was still dim, curtains drawn just enough to let in a soft strip of morning light. She stretched beneath the sheets, a quiet smile forming on her lips as the sensations came rushing back, warmth, closeness, the way Ethan had held her like she belonged right there with him. For a moment, she just lay there, breathing it in. Her skin still felt sensitive, alive in a way she couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just physical, it was the secrecy of it, the danger, the thrill that made everything feel sharper, more intense.

the bearded elder cut in, his tone noticeably more careful than before. “Yes, this story about vampires and ghouls is far-fetched. No undead creature has set foot in our town for hundreds of years,” added a balding elder with a strained smile. “And that is only thanks to the witch Persia Hallow and her protective seals. Which, may I remind everyone in this room, three of those seals have already been broken—thanks to your negligence.” Another voice rang through the hall. A fresh wave of gasps swept across the room. Some of the elders drew in sharp breaths at the sting of those words.

The school was boring anyway. Even now, I was currently staring at one of those books, an ancient werewolf romance novel, while she was reading a much hotter and more recent one; Inferno, Yeah it went along with the title and all. According to her, she wanted to spice things up with Charles and didn't mind recreating some of the scenes from the book, the girl was such a dirty-minded one, and she didn't mind sharing all those gruesome details with me.

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These weren't creatures you'd find in a zoo, separated from you by thick glass and reinforced enclosures. These things were free. And I was their prey. How had they caught up? I had a good distance between us. Panic surged through me as they approached. My head buzzed. My ears rang. I tried to stand. My legs gave out. Big mistake. The lighter-gray wolf lunged. Its teeth clamped down around my ankle. I screamed. The pain was blinding. It felt like I was being tortured. To them, this was nothing more than a sick game.

Someday, I will be your undoing, you will beg for my touch, and every kiss will be as empty as your heart, leaving you desperate and unfulfilled, until every thought leads back to one person. Me. Yours Wickedly, Sierra. Unable to contain myself, I screamed into my pillow until my cheeks flushed bright pink. I can't believe I wrote that. It's a good thing, because he'll never read it. I picked up my cell phone and dialed a number. “You've reached the FBI's private hotline,” the automated voice spoke. “Who do you wish to speak with?” No matter what happens, I was going to be the reason Don Dante Spinelli's empire burned.

I come right out not too long after and slip on the nightdress I had earlier pulled out. My eyes catch the my bag in the corner and a thought creeps into my mind. I quickly move to the door, quickly locking it. I'd really hate to be caught right now. I take up the bag and empty its contents on my bed. My eyes widen in shock as I recognize it. The Novel. The one I had wished to be sent to. How did it get here? I have to hide it. I don't even know why, but I get a very strong gut feeling to do so.