𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 & 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 Revenge Countless souls have fallen prey to its grasp, their lives shattered as deeply as those they sought to harm, if not more so. For most, mere death isn't the end It's not enough to satiate their thirst They crave retribution, wish for something beyond the grave. They want misery upon those who've wronged them. Long for the torment of those who've wounded them But at the end of the day, it's merely a wish, A burning desire for- well, nothing realistic, really For they are weak. Powerless Some may even deem them useless But then, there exist the select few- those who refuse to settle for anything less than the worst, denying death's grasp to unleash a living hell upon their enemies, Those who take matters into their own hands, seizing control & becoming the architects of their own vengeance, Now those, those are dangerous. For in their eyes, the concept of contentment is a foreign notion, replaced by a searing ache for more- More agony, despair. More misery, more wails. More destruction, chaos. People like him, they feed off of fear, thrive in causing pain. They're cunning, calculating, heartless But frankly, even the most twisted of them seem like harmless amateurs in comparison to him. He reeks of death Exudes darkness, sorrow Death is all that shadows his steps, making his existence a reminder of the inevitable fate that awaits his victims. And whispers in the Russian underworld speak of him as Mors- The god of death So, what happens when a girl, who abandoned her family, her life & the very empire bestowed upon her- just to escape the sight of death, catches the eyes of the reaper? What happens when he pulls her into the abyss of his world, intent on destroying all she has fought to be in pursuit of vengeance? And what happens when, as the day wanes, the embodiment of her deepest fear captures her eyes as well?

She's used to being the punchline. He's ready to burn down the theater. Journee Doyle has perfected the art of invisibility. As a plus-size woman in a world obsessed with size zero, she knows her role: be the funny friend, the hard worker, and the one who takes every insult with a smile. By day, she's a ghost. By night, she waits tables at the prestigious Nocturne Crown Hotel, serving Manhattan's elite while trying to forget she exists. Until the night she can't. A backhanded compliment from a billionaire guest and a "clumsy" spill of red wine by a jealous waitress leave Journee humiliated in a room full of people who refuse to look her in the eye. She flees, thinking it's just another scar to hide. She's wrong. Someone was looking. Andrés Morales-the elusive, ruthless CEO of the Nocturne Crown empire. A man who rules New York from the shadows. To him, Journee isn't invisible. She is inevitable. Andrés saw the insult. He saw the tears she tried to hide. And when he rewinds the security tape, his fascination snaps into a dark, primal obsession. He doesn't just want to comfort her; he wants to ruin anyone who ever made her feel small. When a custom gown arrives at her doorstep, sent to an unlisted address, Journee realizes this is no fairy tale. It's a hunt. She thinks he's playing a cruel game. She thinks a man like him could never want a woman like her. So she runs. But she's forgetting one thing: Andrés Morales owns the city. And he loves a chase. He doesn't want her to fit into his world. He's reshaping the world to fit her.

"You look so beautiful, tied to my wall," I said peacefully. She struggled against the bindings, muffling curses with the gag in her mouth. I regarded her kindly, eyeing her up and down, noting how she was shaking. I peered up with a smirk. "This isn't what you thought would happen when you lost our game, is it?" She glared at me. "Well... now that you're mine..." I leaned down and picked up a lighter, clicking it on and seeing her eyes round. "We're going to see how much pain that clit of yours can really take." ~~~~~~~ He was the devil. He was pure evil, a monster in disguise, a breath of pure poison. Something that would surely kill me... but I just couldn't escape him, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to. The Serpent Society was a sect of FireNight buried deep into the depths of this island, that no one of mainland knew about. Hosted by five of the most dangerous men... and I was enclosed with them. Everyone told me to watch out for the worst one, the most malicious Serpent in the game... Elias Sparrow. I kept my head down, but little did I know... His eyes were already on me.

"You call me your safe heaven, Sunflower. You think I hold your hand because I'm a good friend. I hold it because the second you step out of my sight, the static in my head gets so loud I have to butcher someone just to make it stop. You are the only quiet thing in my mind. If you ever try to leave me in the dark, I will drown this entire fucking city in so much blood you'll have no choice but to slip right back into my arms." - Landon Ashford To Hazel Bloom, Landon Ashford is a saint. He is her safe haven, her best friend, and Ardencrest's flawless Golden Prince. She has absolutely no idea she is holding the leash to a psychopath. Behind his polite smiles, Landon is a feral predator biologically tethered to her presence. Hazel thinks her bullies simply leave campus; she doesn't know Landon is slaughtering them in the alleyways. She thinks he's just fiercely protective; she doesn't know he hacks her vitals to listen to her heartbeat just to survive the night. Landon has orchestrated a flawless, blood-soaked illusion so her gentle heart never has to touch the dark. But when the mask inevitably slips, Hazel will realize her sanctuary is a cage. He isn't hiding her from the monsters. He is the monster. And he is on his knees for her. "The Golden Prince | 18+" is the second book in the Princes of Ardencrest Series.{Can be read as a standlone}

"You think you're a ghost in these halls, Aurora, but I have memorized the frequency of your breath. Go ahead-run. But I am the horizon; no matter how far you go, you are still within my sight. I will dismantle every version of a life you've built without me until the only thing left for you to lean on is my shadow. You aren't just a part of my world; you are the pulse I use to measure it." - Evander Laurent __________ In the hallowed, gothic halls of Ardencrest University, being a 'Ghost' is a survival strategy. Scholarship student Aurora Lane knows the rules: stay invisible, protect her brother, and avoid the gaze of the Elite. But she made one fatal mistake. She was noticed by the Crown Prince. Evander Laurent doesn't just lead; he possesses. He is a mastermind who views people as chess pieces, and he has decided that Aurora is his most prized prize. He doesn't want her heart-he wants to be the very air she breathes. He is systematically isolating her, tearing down her world until he is the only thing she has left to hold onto. In a game of psychological warfare and dark obsession, Aurora must decide: will she break under his control, or will she learn to rule the shadows he created? He's not just watching her. He's rewriting her reality. ____ "The Crown Prince |18+" is the first book in the Princes of Ardencrest Series

"You refuse to speak because you think your voice is a curse, Butterfly. A poison that destroys everything it touches. So poison me. Whisper their names, and I will gladly show you how a real monster burns the world to ash just to keep you warm. You think you are trapped in the dark with a psychopath, papillon. You don't realize I am just waiting for your command." - Nikolai de Rivel ____ To Leah, silence is the only armor she has left. Deaf, traumatized, and terrified of physical touch, she just wants to survive Ardencrest University without being seen. When she completely ignores the school's most dangerous French heir on her first day, she thinks she safely avoided a predator. She has no idea she just gave the Reaper Prince a puzzle he is dying to take apart. Behind his polite smiles and lethal elegance, Nikolai de Rivel is an empty-eyed psychopath who demands absolute, psychological control. He doesn't just want to claim her body; he wants to conquer her mind. Leah thinks the campus is naturally parting for her; she doesn't know Nikolai is viciously destroying anyone who steps too close. She thinks she is finally finding peace in the shadows; she doesn't know he is meticulously rewriting her entire reality so she has no choice but to crave his touch. He doesn't want to hide her from the monsters of her past. He wants to drag her into the dark, place her on his lap, and teach her how to rule it. He is the devil. And her rare voice is his trigger. ______ "The Reaper Prince | 18+" is the third book in the Princes of Ardencrest Series. {Can be read as a standalone}

Three years ago, Clara vanished without a trace. Raised alongside five dangerously protective boys from mafia families tied together through blood and business, she spent her entire life trapped in their world of violence, loyalty, and obsession. What started as childhood friendship slowly turned into something darker as they grew older-possessive touches, jealous fights, and the terrifying realization that none of them planned to ever let her go. So at sixteen, she ran. Now nineteen, Clara lives quietly in a small town under a fake name, working double shifts at a rundown diner and trying to forget the life she left behind. But some people don't stop searching. And one stormy night, the bell above the diner door rings- and all five of them walk back into her life.

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐧. Her ambition runs too thick and her patience stretches too thin. She disappears when the pressure builds, returns polished and untouchable, like she wasn't just clawing for air in the dark. She was only supposed to steal a few files-files she knows too well. Just enough to secure her place at the top. Instead, she captures the attention of a man who built his empire from ruin. A man who doesn't forgive betrayal. He wants control. He wants obsession. He wants to ruin her. And she might just ruin him right back.

Ira Verma never imagined her new job would land her inside the cold, echoing walls of the Rathore estate-a mansion guarded by silence, secrets, and the brooding presence of the man she's been hired to care for. Devraj Singh Rathore, heir to one of the most powerful families in India, is feared by many and understood by none. Bound to a wheelchair after a brutal attack, he shows no emotion, no warmth... and certainly no interest in the woman tending to him. At least, that's what Ira believes. What she doesn't know is that behind his still gaze lies a storm-dark, obsessive, and dangerously fixated on her. He watches when she's not looking, collects pieces of her she never gave, and burns with jealousy every time his younger brother dares to flirt with her. But Ira has a life outside this mansion. A fiancé her family chose. A future she thought she wanted. Devraj is done pretending. And when obsession begins to crack through restraint, Ira must face a chilling truth: You can only run so far... when the one who craves you is already inside your world.

"Oh, little crybaby, you don't know what you're asking me for," Gabriel spoke darkly. His gazed shifted, boring into me as his breath mingled with mine. "You sit here in your little school uniform with a damn cross hanging from your neck...," he paused, his eyes narrowing as they burned through me. "Not even understanding what you're asking me while your daddy sits at home wondering why his little girl isn't back yet. I don't fuck little girls." I choked out a sob, his fingers flexing around my throat "Run, piagnona," he warned lowly, "Run as fast as you can and pray I don't catch you again cause I can promise that I won't deny myself the pleasure of ruining you a second time." ------------------ A story in which a catholic school girl becomes obsessed with the walking devil reincarnate - an Italian mob boss who loves the idea of ruining her just a little too much. Clementine wants nothing more than to be good, but his temptation is just so sweet. Gabriel wouldn't usually be so captivated by a little church girl, but who was he to deny himself the pleasure? FMC IS OF AGE!