Winters Bone Novels & Stories

“You will be mine and mine alone, you can’t refuse nor can you abscond. You will be my fucking slave forever”. “I won’t; I will never give in to your silly threats,” I spat, moving backward until my back touched the cold wall. “Is that really what you think, wife?” He whispered in my ears, one of his hands rested on the wall while the other hand trailed down my cheek to my lips. I swallowed hard. I felt weak to the bone, and even his words sent shivers down my spine. I can't refuse, nor can I deny. This is my crimson fate, and I have to accept it. Sold to this mafia tug all in the name of allying, I can only cry in silence. A mafia princess becoming a lady of responsibilities, a free woman becoming a caged one, a happy lady becoming a lady who sheds tears as a routine. ******************** Camila was married off to a Ruthless mafia lord by her parents. She loathes him and everything about him feels disgusting to her. Her life became even worse after ending up in a one-night stand with a stranger which resulted in pregnancy. She terminates the pregnancy, she dies. He found out, she dies. She can't run away nor can she let him find out. Now caught in a deadly web of power, control, and forbidden choices, Camila is left with one haunting truth. “What if the only man who can destroy her… is also the only one who was ever meant to love her!?” “What if surrendering to him isn’t the end but the beginning of something far more deadly… and intoxicating!?”

My daughter, Ruby Pratt, has leukemia. She needs a bone marrow transplant—and fast. Out of everyone in the family, my husband, Dan Pratt, was the only match. I begged him for an entire month before he finally agreed to go through with the donation. But on the morning of the surgery, he went completely off the grid. I stood outside the hospital all day, waiting. No calls. No texts. Not even a shadow. That night, his childhood friend, Valerie Kinder, posted on Instagram. In the photo, Dan was holding Valerie's hand with one arm and carrying her young son with the other—on a beach in Lulabo City. The caption read: [Soaking up the sun! Dan cleared his whole schedule to join us on a month-long trek and we finally made it to the coast! My little boy said Uncle Dan made his ocean dream come true. Pure joy!] My heart splintered. While I was drowning in worry over my daughter, he was off playing happy family with them. I wiped my tears and typed a comment beneath her post: [Not 'Uncle.' From now on, he's your son's father.] That night, I finally got a call from him. "Babe, don't be like this," Dan said. "You're not being fair. "Valerie's son has been bullied at school for not having a dad. I couldn't stand seeing him hurt, so I took them on this trip. It was supposed to help him heal. "I'll catch the first flight back tomorrow and head straight to the hospital to donate the marrow. I promise." I hung up with a bitter smile. The next morning, Dan rushed into the hospital room. But all he found on the bed was a death certificate.

“Don’t you ever resist me again,” he breathed, his words brushing my skin like fire. One hand held my wrists captive above my head; the other traced the line of my throat, caging me against the wall. I looked up at him. My tormentor, my weakness, and the man I craved like sin itself. --- A fire stole her childhood. A contract stole her freedom. Now, a man dressed in a suit that costs more than her life is about to steal her heart. And possibly destroy what’s left of her soul. Evie remembers nothing before the fire, only the smell of smoke, the sound of screams, and a name she can’t forget. Years later, her life is a cycle of debt, slavery, and forced silence. She works herself to the bone while living in the shadow of her perfect cousin, never realizing she was born into a secret far darker than her life. Until the night she’s traded — like property to repay an old family debt — to a man no one dares to speak about. A man whose reputation bleeds power, cruelty, and blood. But instead of chains, he offers her a deal. Marry him, obey him. And never ask questions. Just business. But every time he touches her, the line between fear and longing blurs. His presence unearths flashes of her past, and memories that burn her alive. Because her husband is not who he seems. And the fire that destroyed her life didn’t happen by accident. As their marriage turns into a war of control and desire, Evie finds herself caught between the man who owns her and the truth that could set her free. But freedom comes with a great price. And love is the priciest thing she's ever had.

“I can feel your fear. Your heat. The way your sweet little cunt clenches before I even touch it. You’re not afraid of the beast, Kaerith… You’re starving for him.” He forces her legs wide, claws digging into her hips, pinning her down like prey. The head of his cock—thick, ridged, inhuman—presses against her dripping entrance, teasing her folds, soaking in her slick. “Now spread wider,” he hisses. “And let the beast feed.” — Kaerith—an omega, daughter of the last great Lycan Alpha—was born with the rarest curse of all. She was meant to be ransomed, not enslaved. Now, she’s chained inside Murnokh—a kingdom made of bone and nightmare. A slave. A plaything. A feeding source for Gorvane. Gorvane doesn’t make love. He fucks angrily. He devours. And no one survives it. King Gorvane, a Dreadborn, of the Kingdom of Murnokh, who died as a result of betrayal, rose from a battlefield soaked in centuries of rage. And now, he owns her. He touches her thoughts. Her fear. Her pain. Her buried rage. And he drinks it. But something in Kaerith cracks his hunger. It weakens him. It entices him. And when he finally takes her, it’s not just to feed—it’s to claim. She was never meant to survive his touch. Now, she’s the only thing keeping him sane. He doesn’t understand her softness. Her silence. Her refusal to scream. He’s built to feed on the wreckage of the human heart. But she is making him forget how to starve, how to rage, how to hate. Real love is poison to his kind. Their love is forbidden and if she discovers his True Name—the very grief that birthed him—she will have the power to destroy him… Or to set him free.

Luke moved then. Fast. Too fast. One second he was across the room, the next he was in front of her, towering over her like a wall of heat and fury. His hands came up, gripping her arms not gently, not cruelly, but with a force that said he was one second from shattering. “You think I don’t fight for you every damn day?” His voice was low, dangerous, vibrating with something raw. “You think I don’t take bullets for you behind the scenes? Every single move I make is to keep you breathing, Abigail. So don’t you dare stand there and act like I’m doing nothing.” Her breath hitched, but the anger didn’t stop burning. “Then say it to her. Say it to their faces instead of hiding behind silence like a coward!” Something snapped in his eyes then something sharp and blazing. And before Abigail could blink, his mouth was on hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was a collision hard, punishing, desperate. All the rage, the fear, the need that had been coiling between them exploded like fire. Abigail gasped against him, her hands going up to his chest, meaning to push him away except she didn’t. Just couldn’t. Because the second his tongue slid against hers, the second his body pressed flush against hers, every bone in her body melted. Luke growled low in his throat, a sound that made heat curl deep in her belly. He spun her, slamming her gently but firmly against the wall, his hands framing her face as he devoured her mouth like he’d been starving for years.

“I, Grayson Stone, take you, Blair Anderson, as my mate and Luna of Redstone pack,” Grayson stated smiling at Blair as they stood in front of the elders. “I, Blair Anderson, take you, Grayson Stone, as my mate and Alpha of Redstone pack,” Blair smiled so brightly, stealing small glances at the crowd. Her eyes landed on me, and she gave a smirk only I seemed to notice. I stood there fighting back heartbreaking pain that radiated through my body as our bond had completely broke. He didn’t even reject me properly. He let the bond snap as he kissed her, as if I never mattered.” Celeste Winters once had a name that echoed across territories, the daughter of the WinterMoon Alpha—fierce, loyal, and born of a legacy older than the crown that now rules the city. But all of that shattered the moment the man she trusted with her soul chose another without a word of goodbye. Cast aside without explanation, stripped of identity and purpose, Celeste ran. She abandoned her title, her pack, even her wolf… burying it all beneath perfume and silence. Now, in the heart of a city that doesn’t know her, she works late-night shifts at a diner and hides her scars behind forced smiles and lingering shadows. Every day she survives, but she does not live. Until the night everything begins to unravel. A rogue attack. A moment of instinct. A power she shouldn’t still have. And a single word whispered by the Alpha King himself as their eyes lock across the chaos: Mate. Celeste never wanted to love again. Never wanted to be claimed, or seen, or remembered. But he remembers her—her scent, her laugh, the steel behind her soft-spoken words. And worse, his wolf wants her. Craves her. But Celeste’s past isn’t just filled with heartbreak. It’s filled with secrets—deadly ones...

When my best friend died, his wife, Mia Lewis, was eight months pregnant. Mia said she didn't want her baby growing up without a father. I owed my best friend my life. He saved me, literally pulled me from death's door. So I stepped up, marrying Mia and raising their son as my own. Mia loved her career, so I quit mine. Traded my job for diapers and school runs. For seven whole years, I cooked, cleaned, folded laundry, and handled the housework. Rain or shine, sickness or health, I was there—every single day. Mia, though? She stayed cold, distant. Her warmth only surfaced in the bedroom—and even then, it was a flicker, never a flame. Just soft sighs and breathy murmurs, like she was playing a role she couldn't wait to finish. Afterward, she would quietly check the condom, as if she couldn't trust me. Then came New Year's Eve. A snap. A tear. A broken condom. Her fury struck like a thunderclap. She locked me out on the balcony, left me standing in the freezing rain, soaked to the bone as the wind howled like a wounded beast. Teeth chattering, I shivered as I watched the door like a dog, waiting to be let in. Then I saw him. Our boy, Ethan Bailey. Six years old. My son, at least in name. He came running with an umbrella in his hand. For a second, my heart leapt. 'Maybe, just maybe…' But he didn't even look at me. Just walked past in silence and handed the umbrella to the nanny heading out. Right then and there, something inside me cracked. I knew it was time to go.

In the third year that I've been diagnosed with late-stage bone cancer, Xenia Jensen, the ex-girlfriend whom I have "abandoned" back then, barges into my rented apartment with the rest of her team that she leads as a police captain. Every day, I have to rely on large amounts of morphine just so I can force myself to stand like a regular human being. I can only twitch violently as I try to grab a pill bottle on the table, my skin completely riddled with needle marks. Xenia chuckles icily as she savors how pathetic I look. "Oh? It's been seven years since we last met, and yet I never thought you'd stoop so low as to become a drug addict. "Where did your gusto to get a better, richer girlfriend go? I can't believe you're willing to humiliate yourself just for some so-called medicine!" As soon as Xenia's words fall, I point at the pill bottle with a trembling finger. "Please, officer… Can you please give me my medicine?" Xenia chortles in response. She picks up the bottle before walking toward the bathroom, soon flushing it down the toilet. "You want your medicine? Go ask the peeps at the rehab for it! It seems both your heart and your body are rotten to the core after you left me for another woman!" I'm in so much pain that I'm convulsing violently right now. "Oh… Then… Am I going to die?" I curl up on the floor, hoping to tide over the latest wave of pain by using the method my doctor has taught me. But Xenia merely gazes at me coldly from the side. In fact, she starts recording me, saying that she wants to make me a living negative example.

One of Ethan Sterling's closest friends got drunk and humiliated me. Called me a nobody orphan who married above her station, said I'd never be accepted by the Sterlings, that I wasn't fit to sit at their table. Ethan smashed a bottle over the man's head. He announced in front of everyone that if anyone ever disrespected me again, he'd make them pay. When I was pregnant and the morning sickness was so brutal I couldn't keep anything down, he went and scheduled a vasectomy. He didn't want me to suffer through another pregnancy. This was a man who loved me like I was his whole world. And yet — when I was lying on the operating table about to give birth, he was standing right in front of me with his arms around Iris, putting on a show for anyone watching. Iris was the daughter of another old-money family and she'd donated bone marrow to save Ethan's mother's life. The night before her own engagement, her fiance betrayed her, and the trauma wiped her memory clean. Now the only thing she knew for certain was that Ethan Sterling was her husband. In her world, I was the homewrecker — the scheming woman using the bastard in her belly to force her husband into a divorce. Ethan promised me it was all an act. Just repaying the debt for his mother's life. Once Iris recovered, he'd walk away from her immediately. But when I picked up the surgical consent form for him to sign, and his first instinct was to pull Iris behind him — to shield her — I knew. His heart had already drifted off course. The fairy tale of a Cinderella marrying into high society was over. Time to wake up.

Bianca is dying. Acute myeloid leukemia, stage three. The family doctor told me on the phone—bone marrow transplant, only option, perfect match. Identical twins share ninety-nine percent compatibility. I crushed the diagnosis report. My name was at the top: Gemma Blackwell. But the doctor trembled, whispering apologies. A clerical error. The sick twin was Bianca. The cure was me. I had to get home. Rain lashed the taxi windows. I rehearsed the scene: Father setting down his cigar, Mother gasping, me explaining the mix-up. The report has my name, but the blood work is Bianca's. I can fix this before it's too late. My phone lit up. Family group chat. Father's message was short: [Gemma is terminal. Bianca forbidden from donation. Family decision.] My blood turned to ice. They had seen the misdelivered file. They thought I was the one dying—and they had voted to let me rot. When I pushed open the door and saw Father, I felt it— the temperature drop, the world freezing around me. Tears burned my eyes. I couldn't stop them. "Father," I said, my voice barely steady. "I have a question for you." He looked up from his cigar, annoyed. "If it were Bianca dying," I whispered. "Would you have made me give her my marrow?" The room went silent. He set down the cigar. A long pause. "No," he said finally. "Of course. We have resources. We would find another donor. We would never ask you to take that risk." I smiled a little. Just a small, sad smile. "Good," I said softly. "That's exactly what you said. Don't regret this."