All works

My fated mate Alpha Kaden rejected me at 18: "You are wolfless and weak. You will never be my Luna." Beaten and banished, I awakened in the woods - not a werewolf, but the lost Dragon Princess. Three years later I return to Dark Moon Pack as Dragon Queen, mated to the cold Dragon King Lucien. Now Kaden kneels begging forgiveness. But Lucien will never forgive what he did to me. I came for revenge. I didn't expect twins, war, and a curse that makes my own son destined to kill me.

Six months ago, the world died. The dead simply refused to stay dead. Nyra Kane has survived by following one rule: never trust the infected, never get attached, and never stop moving. In the ruined city of Greyhaven, hesitation means death. Then she finds a message that changes everything. BLACKRIDGE. SUBJECT D-17. ALIVE. D-17 is the identification code her younger brother, Kael, wore the last time she saw him-trapped behind a sealed evacuation gate while Nyra escaped without him. She has spent six months believing he is dead. Now she has a reason to go back. But the infected are changing. Some repeat words from their former lives. Others recognize familiar faces, avoid old traps, and move as if something unseen is guiding them. One of them even knows Nyra's name. Her search leads to Blackridge, where survivors were secretly selected for experiments, and to Project REMEMBER, a classified program that was supposed to preserve human memory after death. The deeper Nyra digs, the more dangerous the truth becomes. A guilty scientist holds the answers. Her former best friend hides a betrayal. And Commander Seraphine Voss is willing to sacrifice anyone to turn the infected into weapons. Somewhere beyond the ruins, Kael may still be alive-but whatever the infection has made of him, he may no longer be the brother Nyra remembers. To save him, Nyra must uncover what caused the outbreak before the dead close in on the last surviving settlements. Because the infection doesn't just bring the dead back. It makes them remember

Julian Laurent was known as the most notorious playboy in Rivermont, changing girlfriends as often as he changed his clothes and treating marriage like a joke. Clara Sterling, on the other hand, had always been the most quiet and obedient daughter of the Sterling family. Raised as the heir since childhood, she had been flawless in every word and every gesture. A family-arranged marriage forced these two complete opposites into the same life. On their wedding night, Julian openly made out with a young model at a nightclub. For the first time, Clara cast aside her propriety, slapping him and demanding a divorce on the spot. But before the next day was over, their families had forced them to remarry. This time, Julian managed to stay faithful for a month before he cheated again. Clara filed for divorce once more, cutting ties with him completely. However, that very same day, it was revealed that Clara was not the real daughter of the Sterling family, and she was thrown out. At her lowest point, Julian found her and solemnly promised to protect her from then on. They remarried again, and from that day forward, the scandals surrounding Julian ceased. Everyone said Clara was lucky. Even her best friend insisted that Julian had truly settled down, and Clara believed it. Until she saw him in a hospital corridor, holding her best friend's hand, his voice strained with deep emotion, "I never liked her. You're the one I've always loved!" It turned out all of his tenderness had been a lie. This time, she walked away and never looked back. And the man who had once treated her as disposable only realized after she was gone that he had long since drowned in her quiet love, unable to escape.

I joined a brutal wilderness survival reality show, playing the perfect role of a pathetic, uneducated girl from a trailer park. I needed the five million dollar prize to fund my revenge against the wealthy family that drove my father to his death. I played everyone flawlessly. I outsmarted the arrogant contestants, ruined a corrupt restaurant owner, and secured enough food to guarantee my absolute victory. But just as I was dominating the game, a massive black helicopter landed in our camp. The show's new billionaire sponsor had arrived, and he immediately ordered his tactical guards to confiscate every ounce of food I had earned. My hard-won advantage was wiped out in seconds. The other contestants cheered, pointing at my empty hands. "Take that, you greedy bitch!" But the real nightmare wasn't the stolen food or the sudden rule change. It was the man who stepped out of the chopper. Glenn Ryan. The ruthless CEO from my past life as an elite heiress. He took off his sunglasses, his dark eyes locking onto my muddy shoes and frayed flannel shirt with a terrifying, obsessive smirk. Why was he here? Why did he instantly target me the moment I started winning? He didn't just know my true identity. He had bought this entire game just to hunt me down.

My fiancé, Knox, was the man I’d spent ten years building a life with, the one I’d poured my family’s fortune into. But then I found the lockbox. Inside, a photo of him smiling, his arm around a heavily pregnant woman, marked: *To my only wife Deana.* I’d been looking for a charger in our Boston penthouse closet when I stumbled upon it. The faded Polaroid showed Knox, younger, beaming, with a heavily pregnant stranger. Its timestamp: "Ten years ago"—the exact year I funded his Ivy League PhD. Flipping the photo, I saw Knox’s familiar handwriting: *To my only wife Deana and our upcoming miracle.* My world crumbled. The man I’d loved had a wife, making me the unwitting mistress. My opulent life was built on his lies. His text, "Baby, I'm coming home to *our house*," twisted into a cruel joke. My tears froze. A decade of sacrifices, of family alienation—all for a man who used my money and trust—shredded in my mind. The fragile woman in me vanished; my eyes turned cold and clear. I relocked the box, smoothed the rug, and applied crimson lipstick. Practicing a flawless smile, I whispered, "Welcome home, my sweet liar."

The door closes. Her heartbeat fastens, and she wants to cry aloud. A deep and husky voice calls her from behind ''love'', and suddenly she feels pulled against a large rock statue which is a man's body. Her fear arises and she speaks in her broken voice ''WHY...... what do you want? Please release me what had I done wrong.... sobbing and struggling with her fragile body... The man replies ''It's your fault to make me go crazy for you and now only you can help me Become sane... LOVE''

She was dead. Or at least, that's what they thought. Now, five years later, Ivy Richardson stood at her own grave, ready to face the man who put her there. Ivy, in a custom coat, stood at her cold, black marble gravestone. "Beloved daughter and fiancée," the inscription read—a cruel joke mirroring her heart's wasteland. A gravedigger dropped his shovel, face ashen. Trembling, he pointed, gasping, "Oh my God... you look exactly like her." He saw a ghost; Ivy was alive. She paid for silence. Then, Clayton, her former fiancé, appeared, shaking: "Ivy? Where have you been?" She crushed his cheap lilies, her lethal gaze replacing the girl he'd abandoned. He snarled, blaming her, justifying her "Do Not Resuscitate" order for his mistress, Ainsley. Ivy's cold laugh mocked his pathetic lies. "Fiancé?" she echoed, revealing her new wedding ring. "That title expired when you signed the DNR... and Ainsley was watching, wasn't she?" With an icy "Go to hell," Ivy left him slipping in the mud.

She looked soft. Almost untouched. The kind of quiet beauty that made men glance twice and then look away. Alex Jameson never looked away. For nearly a year the powerful billionaire watched Maya Wright from across crowded rooms and glass elevators, wanting the soft-spoken gallery girl with the innocent eyes. When he finally stopped waiting, careful longing turned filthy fast. Behind closed doors he claimed every soft part of her with deliberate, relentless intensity. Hands around her throat. Fingers in her hair. Deep, rough strokes that left her shaking and begging for more. She discovered how much she liked being used, how wet she got when he ordered her to take it deeper, how hard she came when he held her down and made her take every inch. Their private heat is scorching and unapologetic. Soft teasing becomes choking and spanking. Sweet kisses turn into her gagging on his cock while tears streak her cheeks. He fills her, stretches her, and makes her squirt until she cannot speak. She rides him while choking him back. He ties her wrists and fucks her until both of them are breathless and wrecked. But loving a man like Alex comes with shadows. Anonymous messages that know too much. Old family secrets and paid surveillance. A woman from his past who refuses to stay gone and nearly destroys everything. Trust fractures. Distance grows. And still the hunger between them only burns hotter. This is a dark, highly explicit romance filled with raw possession, emotional intensity, and detailed R18+ scenes. Expect choking, rough sex, deepthroat, toys, spanking, squirting, power exchange, and the kind of filthy, addictive heat that lingers long after the last page.

For a thousand years, the Vora beastmen have been cursed by a madness-a burning sickness in their blood that only one thing can soothe: the legendary 'Blood-Blessed,' a human female whose very scent is a living cure. When a virus wiped out nearly all females, their desperate hunt for this mythical girl turned into a brutal conquest. They crushed our fallen human kingdoms, reducing us to breathing meat under their cruel "Livestock Codex." To save my little sister from being branded for their elite breeding auction, I took her place in the male-only death draft. Disguised as a boy, I was thrown into a pitch-black labyrinth, a living sacrifice meant to feed their ultimate nightmare: the feral, half-dragon Mad King. He tore our steel cage apart like wet paper. I pressed my back against the freezing wall, watching in horror as he slaughtered the screaming men around me. He ripped the filthy coat from my body, exposing my true gender. As his crimson eyes locked onto my throat and he opened his jaws for the kill, my rage burned away my fear. I was a pureblood heiress of a dead empire, but I would not die cowering like an animal. I gripped a shard of glass, ready to aim for his eye. But as he lunged, the glass sliced my palm. The moment my blood hit the air, the legend became my reality. The sweet, intoxicating scent that flooded the dark wasn't just my pheromones-it was the living cure. The terrifying, apocalyptic tyrant froze mid-strike. He dropped his massive body to his knees, his fangs retracting as he gently, desperately licked my bleeding hand. His chaotic red eyes darkened with an absolute, world-ending obsession as he pulled my fragile body against his burning chest. "Mine." I was meant to be his final meal. They called me the Blood-Blessed. He called me his Queen.

Mabel Parker has lived a hard-knock life. Betrayed by her father and fired from her job on the same day, she's on the verge of losing her home when her best friend, Ruth, offers her a way out-a job serving at a high-society ball. There, Mabel meets Alec Rivera, the CEO of Daston Airlines and heir to the Rivera Group-one of the richest families in America. Mabel wakes up the next morning exhausted, only to discover she has had a one-night stand with him. Except he accuses her of drugging and sleeping with him! Shamed and heartbroken, Mabel flees to another country, where she starts a new life for herself and her three unexpected miracles. Six years later, Mabel is back in the city that took everything from her. But she's no longer the feeble girl she once was. She's a resilient, successful woman, and she's back to secure a government contract. What happens when she runs into the same man who broke her years ago, and suddenly he wants her back? Will she let him tear down the walls she's built around her heart, or will she give him a run for his money? * * * * * Alec Rivera, heir to the Rivera Group, can't get his mind off the girl who shared one unforgettable night with him six years ago. Haunted by the way he dehumanized her, he longs for the chance to apologize and earn her forgiveness. But Alec must put his personal feelings aside and focus on securing a billion-dollar government contract. What happens when one of his biggest rivals for the contract walks into the conference room... and it's none other than the girl from that one-night stand? Except she's no longer that broken girl-she's a strong, determined woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn't afraid to go after it. A second chance to make amends. Can Alec tear down the walls Mabel has built around her heart, or will he lose her all over again? Will he find out about the three adorable children who are his spitting image?

I bought an antique four-poster bed at Sotheby's, said to be the final resting place of a long-dead European king. A week later, I woke up to the thick smell of blood, only to find a massive, heavily wounded man in my bed holding a forged steel sword to my throat. He was dressed in ruined velvet and gold, bleeding out from a massive abdominal gash. When I tried to save him with modern medicine, he called it sorcery and nearly choked me to death. He destroyed my expensive appliances, treating my home like a witch's lair. I thought he was a lunatic cosplayer who broke in, until he tossed me a massive ruby ring as a down payment for my help. I looked it up online. It was the lost coronation ring of King Cain the Cruel, valued at thirty million dollars. I was terrified of this savage who could snap my neck in an instant. I couldn't comprehend how a tyrant who had been dead for 135 years was breathing in my attic, until he lay back down on the antique mattress and literally vanished into thin air before my eyes. The bed was a time portal. The police would lock him in a psych ward and confiscate the priceless artifact, leaving me with nothing but bloodstained sheets and trauma. "I can give you more wealth than you can imagine." So, when he reappeared and offered me the lost Fabergé eggs of his fallen empire in exchange for modern shelter, I didn't call 911. I took his hand and became the 21st-century gatekeeper for a time-traveling king.

Three days before our wedding, the police notified me that my wealthy fiancé had drowned. His family blamed everything on me - slaps, curses, forcing me to kneel in the memorial hall for three days and three nights. In utter despair, I swallowed a lethal dose of antifreeze, climbed onto the bridge, and prepared to jump into the river to join him in death. Just as my body leaned forward and I was about to throw myself off, laughter and whistles suddenly erupted from behind the SUVs. My "drowned" fiancé walked out completely unharmed, talking and laughing with his childhood best friend. Lightly, casually, he announced that this was nothing but a "loyalty test" for me, and right there he put the wedding ring that was supposed to be mine onto his childhood best friend's hand as a reward. Looking at that ring, I suddenly understood that these seven years probably did not even count as a bet in his eyes. The deadly poison tore through my internal organs, and I violently coughed up large mouthfuls of black blood. But he only rolled his eyes in disgust and left me on the side of the road: "Stop pretending to be sick. Don't be late for the rehearsal dinner tonight." The hospital called the emergency line again and again. He rejected every call and warned the doctors not to play along with my jealous games. That night, I died in the cold resuscitation room. The next day, when the police delivered my death notification to his grand wedding, he stared at it and completely lost control.

Sienna woke up in a hospital room, her body screaming from a severe car accident. Through the glass, a man paced with violent rage, a dark shadow she felt absolutely nothing for. Her friend Julia burst in, eyes bloodshot, dropping a bomb: "He didn't even try to help you." Dante, Sienna's fiancé, had protected another woman, Valeria, in the crash, leaving Sienna to burn alive. Her past life unspooled – seven years sacrificed, an architecture degree abandoned, all to serve Dante. Her phone was a shrine to him: his photos, his "taboos," and even "Valeria's preferences," with no trace of Sienna herself. But amnesia brought no heartbreak, only a cold, calculating fury. She felt disgust for the "idiot" she'd been, stripped of dignity. The memory loss was a release, a blank slate. With chilling resolve, Sienna deleted every trace of Dante. Ripping out her IV, she declared, "The wedding proceeds." Not for love, but as a weapon: "I need to take back everything that belongs to me before I disappear."

After months of tearing the continent apart, I finally found her. Covered in mud and blood, raw from the river, I was a monster, a ghost. Across the street, June looked peaceful, utterly unaware. Then, a man stepped out, shielding her with an umbrella, his arm a casual, possessive claim. My heart stopped. I unleashed my Alpha aura; June shivered, thinking it a cold snap. Frankie turned, a mocking smile in his eyes. He knew. Marcus broke ribs restraining my rage as June and Frankie drove away, taking the only light in my miserable world. The 'Tabula Rasa' spell hadn't just erased her memory; it rewired her soul, making her immune to our mate bond. She saw an ordinary stranger. Her scent gone, preferences changed. Agony shredded my mind; my power useless. My magic failed, but I had other weapons. "Buy the street. Buy the shop. Buy every property within five miles. Suffocate them with cash," I commanded. Tomorrow, I'd be Bren, a bankrupt man seeking solace, ready to reclaim what was mine.

Her one condition: she marries Adrian Cole. Seven years ago, eighteen-year-old Elise Marlowe was thrown out of her family's home, blamed for her mother's death. The same week, the boy she loved ended things in front of three hundred guests. Now the Marlowe Group is days from collapse, and its only rescuer is a firm no one has met. Its owner is Elise. She isn't coming home to beg for forgiveness. She's coming for her mother's sealed trust, which opens only for a married Marlowe daughter, and for the truth about what Eleanor was about to tell her. The wedding is six weeks away. By then, Elise and Adrian will each have to tell the truth.

I handed my terminal brain cancer diagnosis to my billionaire husband, hoping for a shred of comfort. Instead, he sneered, accused me of faking it for a better divorce settlement, and told me to die quickly. Heartbroken, I turned to my sister, a top surgeon, who promised to save my life. But on the operating table, my soul was ripped from my body as I watched her inject me with a lethal drug. She didn't just murder me. She harvested my organs, forged my medical records to claim I was a hysterical liar who ran away, and went straight to my penthouse to take my place. She looked at my blank organ donation consent form and smiled. "Don't worry, he'll sign." And he did. My husband welcomed her into our bed and announced their grand wedding, while my own mother celebrated my disappearance as a chance to secure his wealth. I hovered in the air, screaming silently. Why did my own flesh and blood slaughter me to steal my life? Why did the man I loved hate me so much that he'd happily marry my killer? As my husband stood by the window, daring my runaway self to show up at their wedding, my spectral heart turned to stone. I decided not to fade away. I would stay right here as a ghost, and watch their monstrous charade burn to the ground.

I was just a struggling actress in Hollywood, desperate for a chance to prove myself. But the people I trusted most pushed me into hell. My boyfriend, Kole, and my best friend, Brittny, drugged me and handed my hotel room key to an abusive, greasy producer. They traded my body just so Kole could secure a movie role. As the producer pinned me to the bed and tore at my clothes, the original me died of sheer, paralyzing terror. I saw the text message on his phone, a gloating confirmation of my ruin. "She's all mine. You'll get your part." I realized the two people I loved most had treated me like a cheap bargaining chip. While I was being assaulted, they were probably celebrating, building their future fame on my absolute destruction. I didn't understand why they would do this. I gave them all my love and loyalty, only to be betrayed and discarded like trash. The sickening mix of love, betrayal, and paralyzing fear should have been the end of my pathetic, helpless life. But instead of breaking, a cold, calculating consciousness awakened inside me. The soul of "Reaper," a legendary underground doctor and ruthless operative, took over this fragile body. I snapped the producer's wrist, collected my blackmail evidence, and walked out into the cold Los Angeles night. This new life is a war, and it's time to make them pay.

I stood in the biting November wind for twenty minutes just to deliver a coat to my fiancé, Ethan. But when I entered the private club suite, I found a wealthy socialite sitting in his lap. He hadn't forgotten his coat. She had used his phone to summon me, just to mock my plain clothes and make me the punchline of their cruel joke. Ethan didn't defend me. Instead, he publicly denied our engagement in front of the city's elite, threw some cash on the table, and told me to get out. When I fled home and begged my father to call off the wedding, he furiously refused. "It is your duty to this family!" He roared the words, reminding me that this marriage was my lifelong penance for the car accident that killed Ethan's mother years ago. My stepmother just watched, fully aware that my father was using my trauma to secure his business deals with the Sterlings. I was suffocating under the crushing weight of a sin I didn't commit. Why did my entire existence have to be a transaction? Why was I forced to endure endless humiliation for a tragedy that wasn't even my fault? I had spent years being their obedient, silent victim, letting them drain the life out of me. But the next morning, when Julian Carlisle—the city's most notorious and untouchable billionaire who had unexpectedly defended me at the club—walked into my bakery, everything shifted. I looked right into his dark, intimidating eyes and smiled. This time, I was going to use the devil himself to break my cage.

When the wealthy Whitfield family finally found their biological daughter, my eighteen years as their adopted child instantly meant nothing. My adoptive parents and my fiancé handed me an invoice for $12.4 million in back child-rearing costs, demanding I repay it by selling my memories to the Memory Bank. "You need to learn some humility and sacrifice something real if you want to earn your place back in this family." At the welcome gala, they stripped me of my inheritance, banished me to a table by the kitchen doors, and my fiancé publicly called off our engagement. No one remembered that it was also my birthday. They assumed I would sell a few trivial childhood memories, feel the sting of their discipline, and come crawling back to beg for their mercy. They genuinely believed my love for them was an infinite resource to be squeezed, that every hug, every lullaby, every promise could be given a cold, precise price tag. So I gave them exactly what they asked for. To clear the debt in full, I had every core emotional memory of them permanently extracted. The family and the man I once loved became strangers to me, completely and forever.

Warning: This is a no-sweet love story, but a must-read for the dirty-minded people. This novel is not for the faint of heart. Within these pages lie secrets that are whispered in darkness and moaned in ecstasy, stories that explore the raw, unfiltered depths of human desire.🤤 Each chapter builds to a crescendo of passion, leaving you breathless and aching for more.This is a journey through the diverse landscapes of eroticism, where power struggles dance with surrender, and mind games blur the lines between pleasure and pain. If explicit scenes that push boundaries offend you, turn back now. This collection is crafted for dark-minded adults who embrace their primal fantasies without apology."For those seeking scorching hot, unapologetically dirty tales of wild passion, look no further. But be warned: these stories will make your legs quiver and your imagination burn."Strictly 18+.If you're underage, do not dare proceed. Even adults should lock their doors before diving in. You've been warned. "Now step inside if you think you can handle the heat."