She came to the city to escape her past. He built his empire to bury his pain. Neither of them expected the storm they would unleash in each other.
She came to the city to escape her past. He built his empire to bury his pain. Neither of them expected the storm they would unleash in each other.
The rain battered the roof like it was trying to peel the world open.
Raven Winter pressed her back to the cold steel wall of the estate, breath shallow, fingers trembling as she held the flash drive close to her chest. Her hoodie was soaked through, and the thin fabric clung to her body like second skin. She had ten seconds to make a run for it, maybe less.
Security patterns. Blind spots. Rotating patrols. She had memorized them all. What she hadn't accounted for was the strange energy clinging to the air like smoke. It crackled on her skin, made the hairs on her arms stand on end.
This wasn't a normal mafia compound.
She didn't have time to second guess it. She sprinted across the marble-floored corridor, ducking under a security beam, sliding into the main office. The lights were off. Just like she'd planned. She crossed the room in five heartbeats, reached the massive oak desk, and plugged in the drive.
Five percent. Ten. Twenty-two.
The files transferred slowly, each second screaming louder than the last.
Outside, the wind howled. But underneath it, Raven heard something else.
A growl.
She turned, heart slamming into her ribs. Nothing there. Just the storm. Just her paranoia. She looked back at the screen. Fifty-eight percent. Sixty-nine.
Then the scent hit her.
Dark. Sharp. Masculine. It wasn't cologne-it was instinct. Earth and fire and danger.
Someone was in the room.
She spun around, reaching for her knife.
Too late.
A hand clamped around her wrist, cold steel slammed into her back, and she was pressed against the desk in one smooth, terrifying motion. Hot breath touched her ear.
"You shouldn't be here."
The voice was low. Smooth. Dangerous.
Raven didn't answer. She couldn't. Her mouth was dry. Her lungs locked.
He turned her slowly, deliberately, until she was facing him.
Lucien Drax.
She'd seen him in photographs. The mafia heir turned king. The youngest man to take control of a blood empire. His enemies called him "The Alpha" even before they knew the truth.
But the photos hadn't done him justice.
Six-foot-four, broad shoulders draped in black, his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled to reveal inked forearms. His face was carved with cruel precision-strong jaw, high cheekbones, and those eyes.
Glowing. Not metaphorically.
Gold. Real gold.
"You're not one of mine," he said, stepping closer, dragging the knife from her hand. "And you're not just a thief."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, hating how small her voice sounded.
He tilted his head. A strand of dark hair fell across his brow. His lips twitched like he was amused.
"You're shaking," he murmured, brushing his fingers over her pulse. "But you're not afraid. Not the way prey should be."
She tried to twist away. He didn't let her.
He leaned in and inhaled her scent-slow, deliberate, predatory.
Then he froze.
The room changed.
The air thickened.
His eyes darkened into something feral. His grip tightened around her arm.
"What are you?" he asked, voice barely human.
She didn't answer.
He pressed closer, his chest brushing hers, his breath hot and unyielding.
"You smell like mine."
Raven jerked her knee up. It connected with his thigh. He didn't flinch. He grabbed her waist and lifted her like she weighed nothing, pinning her against the wall.
"I should rip your throat out," he growled. "Do you know that?"
"Then do it," she hissed, eyes locked with his.
A strange, electric silence filled the room.
He stared at her. She stared back.
Then his lips curled.
"You want to die?" he asked.
"I want you to let me go."
"That's not going to happen."
The flash drive pinged softly from behind him.
One hundred percent.
She used the distraction to shove him with all her strength, sliding under his arm, grabbing the drive, and running toward the hallway.
She didn't get far.
He tackled her halfway down the corridor, slamming her into the wall again, this time harder. She gasped. His hand wrapped around her throat-not choking, just holding. Controlling.
"Tell me who sent you."
"No one."
"Liar."
He dragged her down a hidden staircase. She kicked. Bit. Screamed.
He never flinched.
The lower level was different. Older. Stone walls. Iron doors.
He threw her into a room lined with black velvet and steel chains. A single chair sat in the center. No windows. Just shadows.
She scrambled up, knife ready.
He smirked.
"Cute."
Then he left. The door slammed shut behind him.
Raven collapsed to the floor, heart racing.
She had stolen from the wrong family.
Not mafia.
Monsters.
Hours passed.
She heard footsteps once. Then nothing.
Until the door creaked open again.
This time, Lucien wasn't alone.
A woman in a blood-red suit stood beside him. Blond. Cold. Beautiful. Eyes like ice.
"Is this her?" the woman asked.
Lucien nodded.
The woman stepped forward, examining Raven like she was a broken artifact.
"She's not full blood."
"But she's marked," Lucien said.
The woman bent down, brushed a finger over Raven's collarbone.
And there it was.
A symbol.
She'd never seen it before, but it glowed faintly under the skin-a crescent wrapped in fire.
"How long have you had this?" the woman asked.
"I don't-what is it?"
"Lie again," Lucien warned, "and I'll let her strip the truth out of your bones."
Raven's breathing turned shallow. She didn't know what they were talking about. She didn't remember any mark. Her body had always been strange-too fast to heal, too good at hiding. But this?
"You need to run tests," the woman said.
Lucien didn't look at her. He stared at Raven like he was trying to solve a puzzle only he could see.
"No," he said.
"No?" the woman echoed, shocked.
"She's mine."
"Lucien-"
He turned, eyes glowing.
"I said she's mine."
The woman stepped back. Bowed slightly.
Raven stared at him.
"What the hell are you?"
He smiled.
"Hungry."
Then the door closed again.
And this time, it locked with a sound that felt permanent.
Raven pressed her back against the wall and breathed deep.
She wasn't getting out of here.
Not unless she figured out what the mark meant.
Not unless she figured out what he was.
Not unless she stopped trembling every time his eyes touched her.
Outside the walls, a wolf howled.
Inside her chest, something stirred.
Something ancient.
Something hers.
Emily never expected a fake marriage to the enigmatic billionaire Liam Westwood would spiral into a deadly game of secrets and sacrifice. What began as a contract became survival, then something far more dangerous-love. With enemies closing in and her brother clinging to life, Emily must decide: walk away free, or stay and fight beside the man who was never supposed to steal her heart. In a world of lies, power, and unexpected tenderness, one mistake turned into destiny.
He's a billionaire by day, a beast by blood-and she just became his obsession. When innocent waitress Aria stumbles into the wrong room at an elite gala, she doesn't expect to find herself face-to-face with Damian Wolfe-a brooding billionaire with a deadly secret. He's powerful, dangerous, and inhumanly irresistible. Bound by a dark curse and an empire built on blood, Damian needs a mate to control the beast within. And he's chosen her. But Aria won't go down without a fight. This isn't just seduction. It's survival.
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.
The ninety-ninth time Jax Little broke my heart was the last time. We were the golden couple of Northgate High, our future perfectly mapped out for UCLA. But in our senior year, he fell for a new girl, Catalina, and our love story became a sick, exhausting dance of his betrayals and my empty threats to leave. At a graduation party, Catalina "accidentally" pulled me into the pool with her. Jax dove in without a second's hesitation. He swam right past me as I struggled, wrapped his arms around Catalina, and pulled her to safety. As he helped her out to the cheers of his friends, he glanced back at me, my body shivering and my mascara running in black rivers. "Your life isn't my problem anymore," he said, his voice as cold as the water I was drowning in. That night, something inside me finally shattered. I went home, opened my laptop, and clicked the button that confirmed my admission. Not to UCLA with him, but to NYU, an entire country away.
After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
For three quiet, patient years, Christina kept house, only to be coldly discarded by the man she once trusted. Instead, he paraded a new lover, making her the punchline of every town joke. Liberated, she honed her long-ignored gifts, astonishing the town with triumph after gleaming triumph. Upon discovering she'd been a treasure all along, her ex-husband's regret drove him to pursue her. "Honey, let's get back together!" With a cold smirk, Christina spat, "Fuck off." A silken-suited mogul slipped an arm around her waist. "She's married to me now. Guards, get him the hell out of here!"
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
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