Split Blade Sword Novels & Stories

04:00 AM. JFK International Airport. I switched off airplane mode, and my phone lit up. The first notification was an Instagram story from my husband, Donovan Valentino, Don of the Valentino family, posted at 3:30 AM: a photo of Seraphina Moretti’s back, captioned, “Run 50 completed. Package delivered safe.” An hour before that, my flight had hit catastrophic clear-air turbulence, dropping two thousand feet in seconds. I’d clung to my seatbelt until my knuckles turned white, the crumpled threat letter from a rival crew pressed like a blade against my ribs. In those blind, falling seconds, one thought burned through the panic: If I live through this—if Donovan is waiting at arrivals—I’ll tear up my transfer papers to Dubai and stay. But there were no missed calls. No messages. He’d been too busy collecting Seraphina. He knew my flight details. He just didn’t care. Four years of marriage. 50 fully armed security details for Seraphina. For my 112 long-haul flights over those same four years? The most I ever got was a driver in an unmarked sedan. Even the night Gambino’s crew tailed me from Manhattan, and I spent six hours locked in a diner bathroom. He didn’t pick up until dawn, after the twelfth try. My transfer to Dubai was confirmed. The signed divorce settlement was in my bag. This was the last time I’d ever come back for him.

Manhattan was doing that thing again twinkling like it had all the answers, when really it just had expensive lighting. Alexander Knight leaned against the glass wall of his penthouse, seventy-five floors up, watching the city hum below him. Bourbon in one hand (mostly untouched), phone in the other. The merger docs stared back at him from the screen, but the part that actually kept him up at night wasn’t the billions on the line. It was the fine print from the Japanese investors: “Family stability preferred.” Translation: get a wife, look settled, or watch the whole deal slip away. He exhaled, fogging the window for a second before it cleared. His assistant had already sent over a neat little list of “suitable” women—discreet, polished, zero drama. Women who understood arrangements. He hadn’t even opened the attachments. Because something about the whole thing felt… hollow. His gaze drifted down, past the grid of lights, to the tiny café on the corner. Golden glow spilling onto the sidewalk, handwritten sign in the window: Local Artist Pop-Up – One Night Only. A woman stood in front of a canvas, head tilted, paint-smudged shirt slipping off one shoulder. She was talking to someone out of view, laughing softly, then stepped back to study her work like it had personally offended her. She glanced up—straight toward his building, straight at him somehow, even though there was no way she could see him up here. But for a split second, their eyes locked across the impossible distance. But right then, with the whole damn city glittering between them, he had this ridiculous, unshakable thought: She’s the one I’m going to ask. And hell help them both when she says yes.

Ever since we were kids, I'd always known how to make use of my gentle childhood friend for things like sending him on errands, and borrowing his allowance. He never complained. Just silently indulged me. Things continued the same way until the day we got engaged. That's when everything snapped into place. That was the day we both woke up. I was just a throwaway character in a novel. He was the male lead—fated to fall in love and end up with the novel's heroine. I was stunned. Ready to walk away. But he was furious. Jaw clenched, eyes wild. He grabbed my hand and dragged me straight to City Hall. "Screw the novel. Screw the plot. The only thing I know is that I love you, and I want forever with you." After we got married, he treated me like I was made of glass. Gentle. Meticulous. We worked side by side, building a reputation as a power couple in the business world. The events of the novel faded into the background. I fell deeper in love with him. Three years later, the youngest daughter of a real estate tycoon started her internship at our company. That day, there was a fire in the office. In the chaos, the girl stumbled into a shelving unit. It came crashing down, headed straight for my husband. I didn't hesitate. I threw myself in front of him. Pain exploded in my skull. Blood poured down my face. The girl, in her panic, had fallen to the ground, crying out, "Aaron, help me!" My husband's face went pale. His expression—pure terror—as he ran toward her without a second thought. "Grace!" he cried. Lightning split through me. My face drained of color. The heroine in the novel—her name was Grace.

Tyler never wanted an Alpha, especially not someone like Landon Hayes. At Ridgecrest Academy, Landon is at the top of the food chain—dominant, arrogant, and used to getting everything he wants. But Tyler isn’t like the other Omegas who fall at his feet. Defiant and independent, he’s determined to finish his year and leave without ever being claimed. Landon has other plans. The moment Tyler caught Landon’s eye, it was game over. Tyler’s quiet defiance and refusal to submit ignite something in Landon he can’t ignore. For the first time, Landon is chasing someone who doesn’t want to be caught. At Ridgecrest, the rules are simple: the strongest Alpha gets what he wants. And Landon Hayes wants Tyler. *** “You—” he starts to say, but his voice catches. I see his pupils dilate, his lips parting as he tries to push back against what’s happening. I let the red flash in my eyes, just for a second, enough to show him who’s in control here. It’s not about scaring him—it’s about reminding him of the natural order of things. The way this has always been meant to go. “Submit,” I growl. He whines. It’s quiet, barely audible, but I hear it. His body betrays him for just a second, his knees wobbling as his head lowers, shoulders hunching in instinctual submission. His eyes flick away, and I can see it—the brief moment where his will cracks. And god, it’s intoxicating. That split second of submission is all I need to know that he’s mine. He might fight it, but his body knows. His scent tells me everything I need to know. It’s only a matter of time before he breaks completely, before he’s begging for it.

The chimes of the Full Moon Festival echoed through the night air. I fought down the nervous flutter in my chest and shot a text to Beta Lucas. "When are we telling the pack, Beta Lucas? When do we finally mark each other?" "I was still holding my breath when my brother, Alpha Ryan, suddenly raised his hand." He pointed at the Sacred Oak in the middle of the plaza, his voice laced with surprise. "Hey, Elena. Isn't that Lucas?" "He's holding a girl's hand. Looks like the pack's in for a celebration." I followed Ryan's gaze on instinct. In that split second, my wolf went completely cold. Lucas was kissing the girl in his arms, deep and passionate. I recognized her right away. It was Sarah, the rogue wolf Lucas had brought back from the forest border the week before. Word was she'd saved Lucas's life. I must've been staring too hard, because Lucas suddenly looked up and locked eyes with us. His pupils shrank the second he saw me. A few seconds later, he slowly let go of the girl in his arms. "Ryan, Elena. Let me formally introduce you two." "This is Sarah, my chosen mate." When he got to me, Lucas's eyes darted away. He glanced quickly at my pale face, then turned to the Sarah beside him. "This is Elena, Alpha Ryan's sister. She's like a little sister to me, too." We'd shared a bed countless nights. And all I got in the end was the label of sister. Fine, then. If your little sister marries another Alpha, you'll surely bless me, won't you?

"Crawl to Daddy on your hands and knees, little whore. I want to see you beg for this d*ck before I split you open and breed that dripping c*nt." * Daddy's Naughty Pet is a collection for readers who are tired of vanilla bullshit and want stories about people who fuck like their lives depend on it. Five chapters each of the raunchiest, most depraved scenarios that'll make you wet, hard, and wondering what's wrong with you for loving it. The stepmom who "accidentally" walks in on her stepson jerking off and decides to help. The personal assistant who schedules "meetings" that are really just fuck sessions on the conference table. The priest who breaks his vows with a parishioner in the confessional. The doctor who gives very hands-on examinations. The landlord who demands payment in pussy. The mechanic who test-drives more than cars. The massage therapist with wandering hands. The yoga instructor who teaches flexible positions for other reasons. The lifeguard who performs mouth-to-mouth that turns into face-fucking. The uber driver who takes a detour. Every character is controlled by their cravings. The married woman sneaking out to get railed by her ex because her husband's dick doesn't satisfy. The college girl who fucks her entire fraternity in one night. The businessman who keeps a submissive locked in his penthouse. These stories don't have plot—they have positions. No character development—just hole development. No emotional connection—just physical fucking that leaves them sore, sticky, and immediately ready for round two. Expect: Every depraved kink you can imagine and some you didn't know existed. This collection is shameless, filthy, degenerate smut with zero redeeming qualities. And that's exactly why you'll devour every word. Ready! Now flip that page like the good little girl you are.

Eight years into our bond, I spotted a child at the kindergarten who looked uncannily like Malcolm—my mate. Malcolm had told me he was away on a business trip. However then he was holding that child in his arms, gently coaxing him. "Be good, sweetheart. In a few days, I'll bring you and your mom home. You're my only child. I'll never abandon you." The child smiled, content and trusting. I stood hidden around the corner, unable to breathe from the pain gripping my chest. Eight years ago, I had taken a silver blade to the stomach to save Malcolm. I lost my wolf that day—and with it, the ability to ever carry a pup. Back then, Malcolm had sat beside my hospital bed and made a promise: "You are the only mate I will ever choose. Whether or not we have a pup doesn't change that." However, what I saw now felt like a brutal slap—a reality too sharp to ignore. What value would Luna have if she'd lost her wolf and could no longer bear heirs? How could I possibly compare to someone who could give him a child, and the pack, a future? Choking back the pain swelling in my chest, I picked up the phone and called my father. "Dad… would you still want a daughter who's lost her wolf?" His voice came through, steady and sure. "Of course. No matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

On the day my husband married my younger sister, I once again heard the divine message from the Astral Sanctuary: if I sever all ties to the mortal world within three days, I can reclaim the astral power I relinquished and return to the Astral Sanctuary. On the first day, I publicly cut my hair to symbolize the severing of love and signed the separation letter, ending my three-year marriage to the man I once loved. Holding my sister in his arms, he looked at me with disdain. His words dripped with mockery as he called me petty and jealous, claiming that sparing me the title of an equal wife had been his greatest act of kindness. On the second day, I drove a blade into myself six times, severing my bond with my cherished elder brother. He stood by, cold and unfeeling, sneering that I was nothing more than a desperate fool, resorting to theatrics to compete for his affection—a devotion he reserved entirely for my sister. On the third day, I clenched my teeth and carved through my own flesh and bone, severing my connection to the parents who had given me life. Enraged, they called me ungrateful and declared I was unworthy—not just of being their daughter, but even of being compared to my perfect sister. In the end, I succumbed to exhaustion and blood loss. My spirit ascended to the Astral Sanctuary, where I reclaimed my true identity as an Astral Maiden. When my family discovered my lifeless body left behind in the mortal realm, they all descended into madness.

The day my adopted sister Xina was diagnosed with a rare blood disease, I was captured by rival pack hunters and taken across pack territories. In a hidden den beneath the mountains, I was chained like an omega during the day and subjected to endless humiliation. At night, they locked me in a moonless chamber and extracted my blood and bone marrow while I was conscious. By the time my pack found me, my body was broken beyond recognition, covered in bite marks, and infected with numerous diseases that even our supernatural healing couldn't combat. My mother, Alpha Serena, looked at me barely clinging to life, and howled so painfully she collapsed several times. My brother Ivan even traveled beyond our ancestral lands to find healers who could treat me. But in my half-conscious state, I accidentally overheard their conversation: "Mother, we captured Lisa just to save Xina, and let her be violated by so many rogues. Now we're taking one of her kidneys too—isn't that going to kill her?" Mother was silent for a long time, then choked up and said: "For Xina, I had no choice." "Besides, Lisa challenged Xina's rank all these years, made her severely depressed. This is just me atoning to Xina on her behalf." "It doesn't matter if she's been tainted. From now on, we'll keep her in the packhouse and take care of her. That'll count as compensation." As the silver blade sliced into my body, tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. A den with four wolves... was simply too crowded.

After my mom got into a car accident and urgently needed surgery to save her life, I gave the surgery slot to my best friend’s son, Isaac Halstead. After all, in the middle of the night, there was only one doctor in the hospital capable of performing the surgery. At the same time, Isaac had swallowed a blade and gone into shock. But after the operation, Isaac died under mysterious circumstances, and Corinne Halstead blamed his death on me. She started a livestream and twisted the truth. She falsely accused me of bribing the doctor, stealing the surgery opportunity that originally belonged to her son, causing them to miss the critical treatment window, which led to Isaac’s death. In the next moment, the police rushed into the hospital and took me, along with the doctor and others, away for investigation. My mom, whose condition was critical, missed the surgery and died. The incident trended online, and I was subjected to massive cyberbullying. The doctor who performed the surgery turned out to be my dad, Dr. Alistair Brennan. In the end, he was deliberately run over and killed by an extremist netizen. In despair, I drank pesticide to prove my innocence. Not long after I died, Corinne moved into a luxury villa with Isaac and my husband, Grant Kessler. Only then did I realize that Isaac’s death had been fake all along. This had all been part of her scheme. She not only took Grant, embezzled the inheritance, but also rode the wave of attention to become an internet celebrity, earning tens of millions. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the night my mom was rushed to the hospital after the accident.