Wolverine Smoke

“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.

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.

"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.

Two souls, one body. One was a feared assassin, and the other was a beautiful soul brought up and given everything she could ever want. Both were betrayed and killed by those around them on the same day and time. Fate, it seems, could only give one of them a second chance to make things right, a chance at vengeance for both lives.********* "What is this?" Aurelia asked her. "It's a note for a surprise that was prepared for you by your father. He said to hand it to you before the party. You should open it," Nella said. Aurelia smiled at her and tore it open. It was obviously typed in bold letters. SEE YOU AT THE ATTIC, DEAREST. Dearest? That's what her father always referred to her as. "I guess I should start going there," there," Aurelia said and left. The attic had been closed since the incident, and Aurelia had always wanted to go in there and see. It was only reasonable now that her father should let her see before getting married. She entered. "Dad?" She called out to him, but there was no answer. She went in further, and then she saw what was written on the wall. 'DIE BITCH! ' Just then, she heard from behind her as the door closed. Soon, something like a pipe was let in as smoke was being let inside the room. Aurelia ran to the door and started banging, but just then, the violinists started to play below along with other instrumentalists. She kept banging until she started to feel faint and slumped as she gasped for air. There were only a few who knew about her asthmatic condition. her father, her late mother, and Nella. Why would her father want her dead?****************** Read to know what happens next.

Once I became pregnant, I was hailed as the most precious woman in the underworld. My husband, the new Don of the Jenkins family, shut down an entire private hospital wing for my check-ups, while my father, the Collins Don, summoned every Michelin-starred chef in New York to the estate, just so I could pick whatever I craved. The baby I carried was destined to be the sole heir of the two most powerful mafia families. But on the day we were to sign the papers securing my child's inheritance, they both vanished. "An urgent family matter came up," my husband, Vincent, said, kissing my forehead. "We can finalize the child's inheritance when we get back. There's no rush." Shortly after they left, I received a link to an anonymous live stream. My father's voice came from the video, colder than I had ever heard it. "You're saying your marriage contract with Evangeline was never valid. Doesn't that make the child a bastard?" Vincent, lounging in a club, blew a smoke ring. Cradled in his arms was my half sister, Sarah. "Evangeline has always had all the love and affection. Her child will want for nothing." "Sarah has been mocked for her status for years. I have to make things right for her, give our child a legitimate name." In that moment, my heart seized, and I could barely breathe. Then my phone vibrated again. It was a text message: "Welcome home to the Gallo family, my queen." "Just give the word, and the child you carry will bear the Gallo name and become the most powerful heir in the American underworld."

I masterminded a half-billion-dollar art auction to wash money for Miles’s family. But at the celebration party, Miles gave all the credit to Rebecca. His childhood friend. The daughter of the family’s consigliere. I stormed into his study. “Miles, head curator was Rebecca? Are you sure about that?” He looked up from a cloud of smoke, pulling me into his arms. His voice was a low, soothing rumble. “Valerie, I know you want to prove yourself, but this was all Rebecca. Especially the Caravaggio. The real one, worth three hundred million. She’s the one who pulled it off.” His lips brushed my forehead, his breath hot. “I don’t love you because you can fix some old paintings. You’re my queen, always. My girl. You don’t have to worry about her.” I almost laughed. The anger was choking me. “She can’t tell the difference between oil and acrylic. How the hell would she know a real from a fake?” “Enough!” Miles cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I know what Rebecca can do. Don’t make a scene just because you’re jealous.” His hands tightened, trapping me in his smoky embrace. “Don’t disappoint me, Valerie.” But he already had. When I’d had enough of his favoritism and his blindness, I walked. And that's when he went crazy. Scoured the earth looking for me. Begging me to come back, saying he was blind, that he’d been wrong about everything.

“I, Alpha Arthur Grant, reject you, Phineas Wells. You were never my mate; you were just a placeholder for a King.” The words didn't just break Phineas’s heart; they shattered his soul. Standing in the center of the pack gala, clutching a hidden sonogram in his pocket, Phineas watched as his husband of three years handed him divorce papers in front of the very people he had served, healed, and protected. Behind Arthur stood Phineas’s own younger brother, Clement, wearing a smug smile of betrayal. They didn't just want Phineas gone—they wanted him erased. Thrown into the freezing rain of the Dead Lands, pregnant and broken, Phineas expects to die. Instead, he finds a nightmare far more seductive. Enter Lucian Aurelius. A Mafia Kingpin with a wolf of pure shadow and a heart of ice. He doesn’t offer Phineas love; he offers a cage of gold and a contract written in blood. Lucian is the ultimate Black Flag—possessive, obsessive, and dangerous. He monitors Phineas’s heartbeat, tracks his every breath, and whispers terrifying promises of protection that feel exactly like imprisonment. But as Phineas’s life is reduced to a "Scattered and Shattered" mess, the "Sunshine" Omega dies, and something colder is born in the dark. While Arthur’s pack begins to crumble and Lucian’s obsession turns into a lethal addiction, Phineas stops crying. He begins to watch. He begins to learn. He realizes that a monster’s greatest weakness is the thing he claims to own. In a world of fated mates and brutal betrayals, Phineas will play the "Helpless Omega" one last time. He will make them crawl. He will make them bleed. And when the smoke clears, the two Alphas who broke him will realize the terrifying truth:

Parting his lips, Jordan placed the burning cigarette on his mouth and stood up from his seat before walking towards his shelves containing all his important documents related business, but soon there a light tug on his arm stopped his actions. It was her, he knew it cause no one other than her had the audacity to enter and exit his cabin without his permission. His wife, Hattiea. Or maybe the woman pretending to be his wife? Jordan's dark eyes landed on the culprit immediately with darkness but as soon as he found her behind him close to him... He got lost for a moment or so... The proximity rose slight tension between them. Raising her fingers up, Hattiea pulled the burning cigarette out from his mouth which was still resting on his lips. Her delicate fingers brushed his chin and lips softly. Following by the smoke, he released his minty breath in slight awe, her breath taking face was so close to his face. They both never came so close to one another actually. Even though it had been quite of time getting married with one another, they minded their boundaries well. As it was not any marriage of love for them but a marriage full of compromises. Hattiea's eyes soon travelled up from his lips back to his eyes, which were still staring at her ditching their shame. "It's dangerous for your health." Hattiea exclaimed hinting his smoking habit, while looking right into his eyes. Her hazel eyes were blank yet they held millions of emotions. "So are you!" Jordan's smoky breath caressed her face. The deepness of his voice solely made Hattiea's heart race million times faster. It was true... she was dangerous for him. Way too dangerous to handle.

In Alabama’s rot-soaked bayous, Drucilla Drakes survives by three rules: silence, scars, and never letting Louise—her Bible-thumping captor—catch her hoping. But when a schoolyard ambush leaves her bleeding beneath a stranger’s leather jacket, invisibility becomes a death sentence. Enter Dragon Morales: New Orleans’ most notorious runaway, a cartel prince turned outlaw mechanic with grease-stained hands and a death wish. He doesn’t save people—he survives them. Yet in Dru’s lashed flesh and hellfire gaze, he sees his own shattered reflection. Their bond is gasoline and matches. Dragon’s father—Colombia’s cartel kingpin—hunts them relentlessly. Louise, armed with voodoo rites and the chaos-hungry loa Marinette, vows to break Dru. Their only allies? The Lou Nwa, a bayou biker gang trading in bullets and black magic, and Papa Legba, the crossroads spirit who offers Dru a lethal bargain: *“Her soul or yours.”* Fleeing through the Deep South’s cursed underbelly, they dodge cartel hitmen, haunted swamps, and safehouses reeking of betrayal. Dark magic seeps into old wounds; family secrets tighten like nooses. Dragon swears he’s too ruined to love. Dru knows she’s too shattered to trust. But in the bayou’s choking heat, desire is a grenade they can’t outrun. This isn’t a fairytale. It’s switchblade kisses and saintly curses—a collision of fire and ruin where protectors become predators. Dru doesn’t need saving; she needs an inferno. And Dragon? He’s got a lighter and nothing left to burn. Will they raze the South to ashes, or become the sacrifice the crossroads demands? One truth remains: in the bayou, even survival leaves scars. **Warning:** No princes here. Just bayou smoke, blood-soaked magic, and the kind of love that devours.

On the day my dad, the Don of the Capone family, comes to the orphanage to take me home, I show up in a tactical helmet and a bulletproof vest. "I'm not going home with you. You're definitely doing this to trick me into getting married to a perverted old geezer in a marriage alliance. I bet my adopted sister has made preparations to start fake-crying anytime by loading up on her eyedrops." My dad is amused, to say the least. "Why would any of that happen? Silvia is nothing but welcoming you to our home! Also, our family isn't a lowly organization that deals with human trafficking." But I refuse to believe my dad at all. On the way home, I keep typing something on my phone. My mom, the Donna, leans over curiously. "Are you writing a diary entry?" "Nope. I'm writing tips on 'How to Survive the Mafia.'" 1) My food will definitely be poisoned. 2) If I get close to a staircase, I'll definitely get pushed down the stairs. 3) I'll get framed for something that I've never done before. My parents swear to me that none of the things I've written will ever happen. They tell me that my adopted sister, Silvia Capone, has a great personality, and things are amicable in the family. However, everything changes when Silvia brings me a glass of juice before lunchtime and insists on watching me drink it. Instead, I dump the juice into a nearby vase of flowers. Just as my parents are about to scold me for wasting the juice, smoke begins drifting from the flowers inside the vase. Then, they start wilting rapidly. I calmly leave a bright red checkmark behind the "poison" tip. As my parents stare at the dead flowers, they can feel color draining from their faces. "You should send the juice to a chem lab for analysis."