Wolverine Smoke Novels & Stories

I am the wife of the capital city’s esteemed tycoon. We were married in secret for three years. At the celebratory banquet, I was about to make our relationship public. However, his first love, Juvelia Shaw, stumbled into the hall clutching her torn collar. “Edwin, save me! Peri Sanders brought along her penniless brother. He just forced a kiss on me in the lounge! “He says he’s your brother-in-law. If I want to get into the Gough family, I have to please him.... Argh! I have been defiled!” The room fell deathly silent before erupting into a chorus of finger-pointing and curses. They accused me of forcing my brother to assault the esteemed tycoon’s woman just to secure his favor. Edwin Gough’s eyes blazed crimson. He ripped off his coat and wrapped it tightly around Juvelia. Then, he flung a glass of red wine at my face. Gritting his teeth, he glared at me. “Peri, bring out that beast of a brother of yours!” “Since his mouth is so vile, let’s pull out his teeth and cut his tongue off to feed the dogs! Otherwise, I’ll make the entire Sanders family pay with their lives!” Amidst the crowd’s looks of contempt and disgust, I burst into laughter. My brother had long since lost his voice. Three years ago, in a fire, he had inhaled excessive smoke while saving Edwin, which had destroyed his vocal cords. His tongue was gone too.

I was the firm’s star. The one they called for the impossible cases. My latest miracle? The “Titan Project” patent case. I made the firm a billion dollars. My cut was supposed to be a two-million-dollar bonus. But today, a fresh-faced intern waltzed off with it. I thought payroll had made a mistake and stormed straight into the senior partner's office. “Preston. My two-million-dollar bonus. Tell me there’s been a mistake.” Preston didn’t even bother to look up. “Victoria, I’ve looked into it. We won this case because of Chloe’s client management.” “She was schmoozing clients. Late-night golf games. Weekend yacht parties. While you were what, exactly?” “You never showed your face outside the courtroom. Teamwork is everything.” I almost laughed. It was absurd. “She’s a rookie who can’t even recite the rules of discovery.” “Enough!” Preston cut me off. “The firm doesn’t make mistakes. I see what everyone contributes.” “If you're not happy, you can prove your worth somewhere else.” He tossed a severance agreement on the desk. My heart went cold. I signed it on the spot. Before I left, I got the last word. “Preston, next time the firm has a real fight on its hands, you’d better call your social butterfly, Chloe. Don’t bother me.” He blew a perfect smoke ring, smirking right through it. Unfazed. Soon later, my phone blew up. It was him. Begging me to come back and save his ass.

In 1612, he couldn’t save her. In 2026, he might not want to. Elias Thorne was a man of maps and measurements, the King’s most trusted surveyor, until the smoke of the Lancashire witch trials choked the life out of everything he loved. Catherine wasn’t a witch—she was just an innocent woman caught in the gears of a superstitious world. When Elias was turned into something monstrous that same year, he didn't see it as a curse; he saw it as a deadline. He had forever to find a way to bring her back. For four centuries, Elias moved through the shadows of history, building an empire of wealth and dark influence. He hunted every myth, funded every occult discovery, and bled for every lead—all to find a soul that refused to return. He grew bitter, his heart hardening into the very stone of the London streets he walked. He eventually gave up on the heavens and the hells, settling into a life of cold, immortal apathy. Then, on a Tuesday afternoon, he sees her. She’s standing in line for coffee, wearing headphones and a denim jacket, looking exactly like the woman he watched die under a grey Jacobean sky. She has no memory of the fire, the maps, or the man who has spent four hundred years hating the world for her sake. Now, Elias faces a choice: Walk away and let her live the peaceful life he once prayed for, or reclaim a love that doesn’t belong to him anymore. But Catherine has secrets of her own—and in the modern world, the ghosts of 1612 are finally starting to catch up.

There were five things I was absolutely certain I wouldn't miss even if I became blind: -The first one was the fact that I was a slave and my life would never go back to the way it was. -The Second one was the Duke who bought me was a dragon hiding his identity for a reason I didn't know. Weren't dragons supposed to be powerful and all? Using his race might give him a huge advantage in politics. -The third one I was certain the Duke was hungry for me and I started to love him. Furthermore, he was cursed and the cursed ones didn't live for more than a year. Conquering him was a lost cause; a battle with less than 50% of success. However… Was it really necessary to label numbers on everything that was happening? -The Fourth one: Was it really necessary for Dotoria, the human land, to curse the other races existing within its borders? I wasn't confident about the statement. Nonetheless, everyone was looking for a wish granter gem. The nine kingdoms collided eying the gemstone like a prize for dominion. -The Fifth one had the magic of belief in it; Do you work on your dream or stay back hiding behind a smoke of mist fearing failure? I wanted to escape but I gradually lost interest in it. The world was a mystery in my eyes and I was taught to never engage in a battle with less than 50% of success. Do I even have a dream because the only thing I wished for was the reason I was a slave. People were driven by dreams and goals and I didn't have one yet.

A wild night of reckless and careless thinking, what could possibly go wrong? -----☆----- 19-year-old Jake Miller isn't your typical everyday guy, he doesn't drink, smoke, party nor does he like girls. In fact, he's an antisocial butterfly whose wings were clipped at childhood. But what happens when his new roommate asks him to accompany him to a party? An accidental kiss with a stranger was definitely NOT on his list. The kiss rocks Jake's world and he's left questioning everything he ever thought he knew about himself and his interests. 24-year-old Liam Morgan, smart, handsome and always prepared and the next CEO of a renowned empire. He thought he had his life all planned out: he'd have the perfect wife, perfect home with his dream job as CEO and most importantly, never be like his father. But then everything took a turn for the worst and he's left to re-evaluate his life. He doesn't know what to do anymore and in a moment of self pity, decides to have a wild night out. While in his drunken state, Liam accidentally kisses a total stranger not knowing the domino effect it would create. Their encounter leaves Liam questioning himself and his values. Fear and obsession soon find themselves following hard after Liam. His first chance encounter turned him into someone he vowed never to be like. With secrets cutting deep, can Liam be the guy that Jake deserves or will their chance encounter remain only but a burning memory in Liam's mind, to look but never touch? To have but never truly be yours?

` It was a cool, breezy and stormy night. Rain came down in sheets, as a dark figure stood before a house. The house was pretty ordinary, white with blue shutters; it didn't have more than two bedrooms. It looked like a cozy little family home with flowers and shrubs lining the front lawn, and then the smell from the pellet stove smoke invaded his nostrils. He took a deep breath and pulled out an old, rusted compass from his black trench coat. It looked like it could have been from the 14th century, the small, brass disc was dented and the Victorian designs were faded. He studied it as it pointed east, towards the small house. He looked the house over carefully, looking for the best entrance, before proceeding towards the side to gaze into the window. Inside you can see the small kitchen; the brand new, all black appliances off set the linoleum floor. Cabinets filled almost every wall of the small space that made it look more crowded than it should have been. The kitchen opened to a larger room which seemed to be used as a living room and a dining room all at once. The whole house looked crowded, with the furniture in the living room all touching except for a small gap to walk through and the dining room was so close to the sofa, it could have been sitting on it. He stepped back into the shadows as he watched a young couple enter the kitchen. The wife was tall and slender, had strawberry blond hair formed around her face accenting her jaw-line and her deep blue eyes stopped your heart as you got lost in them. Her fair complexion was silky and complimented her soft face.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, Blaze.” I whispered as I tightly clutched his silky shirt, even though it felt so right, even though everything inside me burns brighter when he looks at me— even though my knees buckled right now, when he slowly slotted his firm thigh between my legs. “You know you want it.” He slowly pressed his index finger into my mouth, and my eyes fluttered shut when he pressed an open kiss against my jaw. “But- my brother...” I mumbled around his finger, as I forced my eyes open. He lifted his thigh and pressed it against my core and I let out a stuttered cry as I threw my head back, my knees threatening to give out this time. “... doesn’t have to know.” —————— To hide her dark secrets, Tessy Roper is content with playing the good girl of her college. She keeps up to her grades, doesn’t drink or smoke or go to notorious college parties, and most definitely doesn’t involve herself with pant-dropping bad boys like Blaze Colt - feared gang leader and her elder brother’s best friend. But things take a turn for the worst when her dark secrets get exposed to Blaze Colt and the only way to protect it is to strike a dirty deal with him. Through this sinful man, she’s introduced into a world of whips and chains and one demanding master who’s determined to unravel every perfectly aligned piece of her body - and heart.

Mine, my wolf said. Who's yours? I asked. The answer was Alpha Damir. I told my wolf to shut the hell up. --- Some vows are made in grief. Some are made in blood. I made mine on my knees in the rain, pushing dirt over the only two people who ever loved me, with smoke still in my lungs and fury so hot it had nowhere left to go. I came back from the UK and something felt wrong before I even reached the gate. The mansion was on fire. My father was already gone. My mother had seconds left and she used every single one of them to give me a name. Alpha Drakan. I carved that name into the inside of my chest and made a vow. Find him. Look him in the eye. Carve his heart out while it's still beating. Except Alpha Drakan was already dead. Two months in the ground. My parents died last night. Dead men don't order killings. Which meant I had the wrong name and the wrong man. My mother hadn't known. She was dying, she couldn't have known. But the name was Drakan and the blood was Drakan and the throne belonged to Drakan. His son. Damir, Alpha of Vordheim. Next of kin to a dead man and sitting on everything that name owned. My mother had pointed me here and here was where the answers lived. He was the one I suspected. The one I was watching. The one I had every intention of killing when the time was right. And then the moon goddess, who clearly has a vicious, twisted, absolutely unhinged sense of humour, went ahead and made him my mate.

"You wanted me to fail," she yelled, her voice shaking with rage and desperation. "You wanted me to prove you right." "No." My voice was a low, feral growl. "I wanted to know if you'd stand your ground. And you did." You stood your ground, held my life in your hand, and chose to keep it breathing. That was all I needed to see. Her defiance was a thin wall, her trembling betraying her. "This doesn't make me yours." I leaned in, my lips a hair's breadth from hers. The scent of her… of wood smoke and sweat, and something wild and unmistakably Lyra… filled my senses. "You already are," I whispered against her lips. "Even in your hate." *************************************** Lyra, the last warrior-heir of Ravengarde, detests Kael, the cruel enemy alpha who murdered her family, burned her castle, and claimed her as his ruthless spoils. Imprisoned in his domineering Shadowfen Keep, her rage is a burning blaze, battling the forbidden, wild linkage that brings her closer with each bitter glance and each jealous touch. She promises to kill him, break free from his shadow magic, even as his control ignites a deadly, forbidden desire in her. But when Lyra learns the horrible truth… that the betrayal that had destroyed her clan was not schemed by Kael, but by her own ruthless bloodline in a lust for power… her world shatters. Every sadistic phrase, every brutal touch she endured under Kael's command now bears an abject truth: the enemy that she had sworn to kill was, in reality, protecting her, and is now very likely the only one who can save her from a much darker fate than his claim.

As Don Julian Vitale's woman, I've accompanied him every step of the way, from the streets all the way to the peak. It all starts because I don't like the way Julian's god-sister, Milena Santoro, uses so much force in dressing my wounds that I've dismissed her in favor of other people. The next day, my explicit photos are plastered all over the underground casino's chips. I clutch my abdomen, which still sports the stab wound I've blocked for Julian. As I search for him, I end up overhearing his subordinates' lewd laughter outside a private room. "Winona sure is hot, Don Vitale! Now that her body's printed all over the chips, our luck has tremendously increased as well!" "That's not it! Previously, Don Vitale rewarded me by letting me grope Winona's chest! Because of that, I was able to seal a business deal that's worth tens of millions of dollars!" "Then again, Don Vitale, won't Winona get into a fight with you for spreading her explicit photos like this?" Julian puffs out some smoke while toying with a casino chip with my crotch printed on it. "She's just a plaything whom Lady Luck favors. Without my protection, she's even lower than a mutt. Besides, she's nothing compared to Milena, and yet she has the gall to complain about how much force Milena uses in dressing her wounds?" As the crotch-imprinted chip is flung onto the table carelessly, I feel my heart dying once and for all.