Bewitching Hour Novels & Stories

BLURB “Mr Geal, we can't please.” her voice breaks as he trailed his fingers down jaw to her lips. Her breath comes out in gasps as she tightens her legs together, “Please, you are betrothed.” she murmured. His hands move to her neck where he tightens them whispering, “It doesn't matter,” he growls, his fingers finding their way beneath my skirt. “I am yours anyway.” He doesn't give her a second before his fingers sweep her panties aside, and find their way home. “Holy hell-” therest of the words is jumbled in her throat as he slams his lips against hers ~~~~~~ Olivia Macurry, a woman whose lifetime goal was to stop stripping. She wanted nomore than a white collar job where she wouldn't have to open her legs to get paid. After getting ordered by a man whopaid fifteen thousand dollars to have her for the night, she agreed but she didn't keep to the bargain. Now her new boss is the same blue eyed man that paid for a night with her, the same man she left when he was in the bathroom barely an hour after their first round. But it's too late because he wants her again. Just a taste, and he's addicted. He won't let her go, not even when he is buried six feet under. He can't stop, he must have her after all he paid for a night. Obsession turns into attraction. Attraction turns into possession. Possession turns into pure madness. He refuses to let her go yet he is betrothed to another. Secrets, lies, betrayal, and anger drives their relationship towards madness as everything is turned upside. But then Leonardo's best quality was that he thrived in chaos, and even though he is betrothed he belonged to her. Body, mind, and fucking soul.

In my past life, I was performing emergency pipeline repairs 300 meters beneath the ocean when my oxygen line ruptured. I swam back for help, only to have my wife, Summer Yates, and her first love, Zachary Gibson, lock me out of the diving bell. Not only did they ignore whether I lived or died, but they also started live-streaming an extreme no-oxygen endurance challenge to the entire internet. In the end, I suffocated and drowned. Even after my death, Summer and Zachary smeared my name, calling me a deranged saboteur, while they ran off together with my massive life insurance payout. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the exact moment I was banging on the hatch. Right on cue, Summer's sweet, teasing chuckle came through the comm. "All units, don't open the hatch. Carter wants to attempt an extreme challenge today. He's going to swim back to the surface without oxygen!" Immediately after, Zachary's voice followed, trembling with excitement. "Babe, the sponsors said if Carter succeeds this time, I'll be the lead director on next month's million-dollar documentary series!" In my past life, I had begged them through mouthfuls of blood, only to be met with Summer's impatient urging. "Stop wasting your energy. You should save your oxygen and start swimming up. You're such a strong swimmer. Just hold on for another half hour, and you'll make Zachary's dream come true!" Now, as I listened to this pair of scumbags plot against me, I sneered and cut the communication. I raised the highest-powered underwater cutting torch in my hand and aimed it directly at the main load-bearing cable connecting the diving bell to the surface vessel above. They wanted me dead, so none of them would be leaving alive either.

"You ignore me, you don't want me, you don't touch me, you don't fuck me, and then you come at me with this weak threat just because I danced with someone else at the party?" I managed to push out the words, "Let's face it, you're not going to do a damn thing and just keep playing saint-maybe your machine has rusted after all these years of being without a mate." His jaw tensed, and his fingers dug into my skin, but then a low, husky chuckle escaped him. "You really enjoy pushing boundaries, don't you?" His free hand traced a slow path down between us and he suddenly cupped my pussy causing a gasp to slip past my lips, "Just so you know, Poppet-I have a lot of respect for you, but in the next hour, I'm going to make you forget that I ever respected you at all." Before I could retort, his lips brushed against my ear, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. "Brace yourself-because I am about to fuck you like my whore and I'll show you just how well this machine still fucking works." *** When Aurora Steel's mate cheats on her with her best friend just before their mating ceremony, her world shatters. But....Just as she hits rock bottom, a familiar face reappears in their pack-the Alpha of BloodFang Legion, Jaxon Blackwood, her father's friend, and...the crush she'd long buried. And suddenly it seems there is no better choice for revenge against her cheating mate than letting a hot, cold, and older alpha fuck her. But in the world of revenge, betrayal, illicit desires, and forbidden temptation, an affair hidden from everyone with an Alpha like Jaxon is anything but a wise choice, isn't it? Especially when Jaxon'd enemies were after him.

Everyone in Phantom Pack knew their Alpha, Riven Drake, was devoted to me — completely and without question. No matter how slammed he was, he always called to check in, right on time, every time. But the night before our marking ceremony, he vanished. No call, no word, nothing. I lost all sense of him through our mate bond, and my gut told me he was in danger. I was ready to drop everything and go find him — body wrecked as I was — when he finally walked through the door. He came in holding a woman who reeked of him, barely able to stand, and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Natasha, Helen got hurt saving my life. I can't just let her die." To atone for his sins before me, he stabbed himself with a silver dagger. Then, not even an hour after our marking ceremony ended, I heard his Beta laughing with him: "Alpha, that aphrodisiac must've been something else. Helen looked like she was about to pass out." Riven's voice had a satisfied edge to it. "Yeah, I'll have to go easier next time. Don't want her cutting me off." "Anyway — my little troublemaker's calling." It hit me like a punch to the chest. I picked up my phone and called my brother. "Cole. I want to come home to Starlight Pack. Can you send someone in five days?" He sounded surprised, then happy. "Of course. I'll have someone there in five days." Five days. I was giving myself five days. Giving Riven five days. He thought I was just another werewolf. Thought he had me completely figured out. He had no idea I was something else entirely — a descendant of the Dragon Clan, something out of legend. I was never his to control.

In the third year of my eating disorder, my husband, Nikolai Hollowell, is the only person who still insists on making me eat. Even when I vomit until I'm a trembling mess, he will make another dish for me again half an hour later. He coaxes gently yet stubbornly, "Have one more bite of the apple slice, Emi." But the moment I smell the food, I throw up again until I can barely breathe. That night, I make another post on X to ask for help. "How is someone with an eating disorder supposed to keep living?" The top comment says, "Get a boyfriend who's a chef! My darling cooks different dishes for me every single day, all 365 days without repeating once. Even the apple slices he cuts are shaped like cute little bunnies, so I absolutely love eating now." Someone replies enviously, "Wow! Where do you find a man like that?" She answers, "Find one? Good men like that no longer circulate on the market. He is actually married. His wife has had anorexia for three years. She has become only skin and bones. "He says just looking at her kills his appetite, and he does not even want to touch her. Well, I'm nothing like her. I always finish every dish he makes." My breathing catches in my throat. This morning, Nikolai personally made bunny-shaped apple slices for me. My fingertips turn cold as I tap into the woman's profile. Her caption reads, "Wow! If your wife won't eat bunny-shaped apple slices, then I will!" Attached is a photo of a man's long, elegant fingers holding an apple slice up to the woman's mouth. And the one reflected in her starry eyes after zooming in—is a face identical to Nikolai's.

My boyfriend got a tenure-track offer from Ashford University—and the night he found out, he cried in my arms for hours. Before he left the country, he held my hand, looking guilty. "Babe, the cost of living over there is insane, and you probably won't be able to find a decent job. Once I get settled, I'll bring you over in style…" He paused, waiting for me to appreciate how "considerate" he was being. What he didn't know was that just half an hour earlier, I'd overheard him on the balcony. "Don't worry, the tickets are booked. We're going together. No way I'm leaving you behind." On the other end of the line was his gentle, sweet junior. He'd spent years looking down on my education, always saying I couldn't understand his "soul." But every time I handed him my tips from waiting tables and delivering takeout—stained envelopes, greasy and crumpled—he'd take them like he was doing me a favor. What he also didn't know was that I'd long since gotten tired of playing the "I'll work to put you through school" bit. I only started dating him because he was cute—I wanted a little thrill. I just didn't expect to keep the act going for three years. And for a second here and there, I almost believed it myself. I was already looking for an excuse to dump him. Then he handed me one on a silver platter. So when he gave his little speech, I barely held back a smile as I fixed his collar. "Okay. Then take good care of yourself over there. I'm gonna be late for my night shift. Gotta go." I turned around and called my best friend. "Book me a table at VIVA tonight. I'm single again—time to party."

My name is Christian Thompson, and once upon a time, I was the best striker in European football. That was until he came along—Ashford Ryder, young and carefree, 10 years my junior and the new shining star. I hate him. At least that's what I tell myself. Not just because he's taken my spot, but because he's everything I've struggled all my life to be, and not to be. He's vibrant, he's happy, and the worst of all, he's openly gay. I'm not homophobic, quite the opposite—I've lived in the closet all my life. All my life, I've had to hide who I am to please the people around me. European football hasn't always been this accepting of gay men, and I'd squeezed myself into a box to fit in with what they wanted of me. It isn’t that hard when you think about my family who'd rather disown me than have an openly gay son. So imagine how I feel when the world decides to be more accommodating to people like Ashford Ryder when they shoved me in a box. It's not so easy to hate the happy-go-lucky striker, when he does everything to get close to me, despite my insistent hatred for him. He's like a thorn in my side—a hot, sexy, blonde, 5ft9 thorn I can't stop thinking about. But when one day I lose my cool around the popular striker and land myself in bad press, I end up needing his help. It's supposed to be easy. Spend some time with Ashford Ryder, and show our fans that we can work together—it's what I need to do to save my career. But no one tells you how hard it is to hate someone you spend every waking hour dreaming about.

On the day we chose our college majors, the influencer who was the school's heartthrob held a livestream and announced that he had decided to lead the anti-rat-race movement and would choose to attend a vocational college. The whole class followed him. Seeing the rapidly increasing number of followers, he smiled smugly. "They can do these low-class jobs if they like. I'll change my choice back to Harvard University at the last minute." I tried to dissuade him, but this would cause network congestion. My girlfriend slapped me. "You nerd! Who are you to tell our idol, Zach Simpson, what to do?" In my previous life, I spent half an hour dissuading them, and only then did the students change their college choices. However, Zach failed to change his application due to network lag and was admitted to a vocational college instead. He could not bear the blow and jumped into the river to commit suicide. The students who had entered prestigious universities collectively vented their anger on me. At the class reunion, they poured 99 bottles of beer down my throat and locked me in the karaoke's freezer. "Who cares about the prestige of a prestigious university? You'll just be working for someone else after graduation anyway!" "Why did we follow Zach in the first place? Wasn't it to break this damn rule?" "Zach was leading us to realize our dreams! If you hadn't interfered, I would already have gone to a vocational college with him!" They spoke disdainfully of prestigious universities, yet not one of them chose to drop out. I froze to death in a dark, cold freezer, my eyes wide open. Years later, they became elites in their respective fields, while my parents could only weep looking at my portrait. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Zach was livestreaming in the classroom. This time, I promised I would not interfere. Instead, I wished them a happy vocational college experience.

On Valentine's Day, I paid in full for a sports car and gave it to my wife as a gift. But when my wife arrived at the private dining restaurant, she brought her parents—and her childhood sweetheart—along with her. The moment my mother-in-law saw it, she slammed her hand on the table, furious. "Tyler, do you have so much money that it's burning a hole in your pocket? Is all this really necessary just for a meal? "Megan pinches every penny at home, and here you are throwing money around outside—just to show off?" Embarrassed, I tried to explain that this was simply a token of my love for Megan. My father-in-law, however, kept a stern face. "No matter how expensive the car is, it's still going to get stuck in traffic during rush hour! It's not even as useful as the electric scooter Brandon gave her. If you ask me, you didn't put any real thought into this. "Oh, right. I heard the salesperson who sold you the car was introduced by Brandon. How exactly are you planning to repay that favor? No matter how busy you are with work, you can't just push everything onto Brandon to handle for you." I could hear the hidden meaning behind his words. So that was what this was really about. They were still holding a grudge because a week ago, when my father-in-law had twisted his back, I hadn't gone to the hospital to visit him. But at the time, I had been busy cleaning up the mess Brandon Hayes had caused for the company. I'd even kept him out of prison. Yet, instead of gratitude, they were turning the blame on me. After a long silence, my wife finally looked at me. "Tyler, transfer ten percent of the company's shares to Brandon as repayment." "And if I don't?" My father-in-law barked angrily, "Then I'll have Megan divorce you!" I laughed. Then I calmly pulled a divorce agreement from my pocket and placed it on the table. "Go ahead," I said. "Sign it."

An emergency has just occurred at the hotel. William Davis, the mayor's son, suffers from cardiac arrest in the hotel. Unfortunately, there's nothing the doctor in his team can do about it. I happen to be vacationing nearby, so I quickly rush toward the scene. As soon as I rush into the lobby, the security guards quickly stop me. "A life is being saved at the moment. Unauthorized personnel aren't allowed to enter." I'm about to dig out my work badge when Lydia Sharpe, the intern tagging along, suddenly covers her mouth and shouts daintily, "Don't let her in! There's a scalpel and a syringe of anesthetics in her bag!" Everyone is shocked by Lydia's revelation. The security guards instantly have me surrounded while wearing vigilant looks. Sweat starts rolling down my face out of anxiety. "I'm the head of the cardiothoracic surgery department of Central City Hospital! I've heard about the patient's condition! He must undergo a thoracotomy right away!" The next thing I know, Lydia has snatched my bag out of my hands. Things such as the sterilized gloves, defibrillator, as well as life-saving medication are scattered all over the floor. Lydia steps on the one and only life-saving pill instantly. "I just heard you claiming that it's best if the mayor's son dies right away! Why are you still pretending to be a savior? "Hurry up and arrest her! I suspect she has something to do with the ongoing case! She's definitely a murderer!" The person in charge's expression shifts drastically. Soon, he pins me on the wall. "Detain her and inform the security department right away! This woman is suspected of being involved in a murder!" As I stare at Lydia, I can't help but tremble violently. Right now, I'm the only one in the entire city who can perform the surgery on William. Unfortunately, he can only last for another half an hour in his current condition.