Alive
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Alive's Books and Stories
Her Billionaire CEO's Love Languages
Billionaires “I’m sorry but I can't continue this.
We have both gotten what we intended from fooling the world that we were actually a couple. It's time to go our separate ways Jarek… like we said we would, “ Olivia said, hoping the tone of her voice would not betray her and convey her true need…her true desire.
“Too late Liv.” Jarek said stunning Olivia.
“As a Stark, it’s my duty to uphold the rules of any binding and keep to my end of the bargain but with you…
With you, I plan on breaking every rule out there that exists as long as I keep on being yours.
I can not bear to see you with another. It will kill me…” Jarek replied and the last clause came out as a whisper as he tilted her chin up to face him properly.
“I could go raving mad Miss Forte. Stay with me!”
His last words had stolen the other words she had rehearsed earlier, it had snatched the willpower Olivia thought she had perfectly.
“Kiss me Mr Stark. My name is Olivia and it feels pleasant to meet you, “ Olivia said as she ran her hands from his chest to his shoulders.
He did not have time to react to her sub - introduction before he clasped his lips on hers.
She hummed a moan at the familiarity of his lips that she had thought she would never get to experience again and she earned a groan from him as the ‘supposed’ reuniting kiss, intended to be soft and alluring graduated to something ferocious.
Hands finding buttons, fingers sinking in hair…
*********************
Jarek Stark, the only son to the Stark Empire, was a mystery to the media. They know he exists but no one could tell who exactly he is.
He worked as a lawyer in a law firm and got intrigued by a particular woman who wasn't fascinated by any of his charms.
Her name, Olivia Forte.
A woman with a strong sense of justice for others than herself. She is unaware that in the shadows she has a fan -a stalker - who uses his spare time to keep tabs on her.
He makes no advances towards her because he was aware of the love she had for her boyfriend. That was until he cheated on Olivia. Seeing an opportunity to get close to her, he latches on it.
Would Olivia still desire to be with Jarek when he becomes her boss and reveals his true identity to her and others?
Would their relationship also be able to stand when she finds out his secret and also when he finds out her deleted past?!
The Vampire King's Only Antidote
Fantasy “Lor…Lord Kamaz” Zelda moaned as she held onto Ragnar’s shoulders.
She could feel the temperature of his skin and he was cold to the touch but yet she felt like she was burning.
‘How is it possible that someone this cold could transfer this level of heat?’
He had only placed a kiss on her neck and had run his tongue along a pulsing vein but she could feel how badly her core ached.
He did not want to hold onto her, he was trying all he could so his hands would not grab her and that was the greatest form of torment he felt could come to him.
Not even the angry looking gashes and slashes on his back from the whippings he had gotten could be compared.
“The whole Kingdom almost found out my secret today, little bird…” He said as he brought his nose closer to her neck and took a much needed deep inhale.
He closed his eyes as he savoured her scent…that scent that could only come from her.
No one else had ever smelled so appealing in all his life.
“I don't want you going to any of the chambers meant for the Upper Royals.
I don't want them seeing you. I don't want them even thinking about you.
I could have laid his head to rest today if those fingers of his had touched you.” He said, recollecting how close he was to decapitating his half brother.
“Tell me…Did He Touch You?!” He asked.
Zelda's eyes flew open.
She looked into his eyes and saw his eyes were still swirling a shade of red.
It will be troublesome if he stays this way.
She placed one of her hands on his face and he relished in the warmth of her skin.
“He didn't. You came before he could…” She said.
He nodded his head and his eyes darted to that vein on her neck that was pulling him in. He didn't want to hurt her but yet he could hear the thrum of her blood and not tasting it was maddening enough.
“You need to go" He said and he removed his hands that had cornered her to the wall.
She knew he was withdrawing from her…again.
He was still trying to hold onto his title as the most revered Prince of Noble character, even in this moment because he didn't want to harm her.
Instead of speaking, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips.
Her lips parted as she landed on her feet, her chest heaving as she wondered what he would do. The red in his eyes glazed, their hearts drummed in their ears and in a unified heartbeat, he lifted her up with his left hand and crashed his lips on hers.
A groan from the depth of his desires quietened in the tangle of their tongues.
She wrapped her legs around him and he leaned into her body on the wall.
Her fingers sunk in his hair...
*****************
Lord Ragnar Kamazotz is a vampire and the first ever of his kind.
The beast in him only recognizes the tune of one lady…his Zeda.
In his earliest years, she was the only person that could calm him down or get him close to sanity with the help of her instrument.
All that stopped when she was hung by the greedy members of the royal family and he slayed all those involved in her death
He survived by relying on The Prophecy that promised her coming back.
Seven centuries later, he meets her again and his world is at peace until scenes from the ancient days rise up in this present one, threatening to kill her…again!
People called her his poison but he called her ‘his Antidote.
Supreme Alpha's Craving
Werewolf "You know I am not spewing nonsense Karen. Yes, your wolf might not be there to witness within you that I am yours but you can't deny the fact that you are drawn towards me, somehow, somewhere within, you know!"
Karen was breathing hard, she could not believe what she just heard. What Ralph said was the truth and that was why she had been trying to push him far from her.
’My mate???’
"But there is no way to prove it" Karen said with her chest heaving up and down.
"There is" Ralph said and his eyes were fixed on hers intently.
"How?" Karen asked and her voice came out as a whisper. She was paralyzed by the scorching blazes of Ralph's eyes and the sincerity she could feel from his words. Ralph leaned into her without his body touching hers and took her lips in his. She wanted to push him off but the strength of his hands held her in place and he deepened the kiss.
She surrendered and her lips soon followed the pace that his, had set. It was gentle, promising and sent fiery messages all over her skin. Ralph soon let go of her hands and placed his body by hers on the bed as the kiss continued and grew into something ferocious. Their tongues began to play tag and their lips sought dominance over the other. Her hands held unto his shirt and his hand lifted the hospital shirt she had on and began to caress the side of her belly.
Karen pulled away from the kiss as she sought air.
"Now, do you know how?" Ralph asked.
*********************
Meet Ralph Hernandez - the Supreme Alpha of all werewolves and lycans alike and his mate - Karen Zane.
She won't bend to his whim because he is the Supreme Alpha, especially when she thinks he is her father's murderer.
Follow them on how Karen makes the cold hearted Supreme Alpha Ralph Hernandez fall helplessly in love with her, only for her to leave him - despite her feelings for him.
Would Ralph be able to find Karen?
Would Karen find out who killed her parents and rescue them from the wickedness of her cousin?
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The Underboss's Obsession: Stealing The Bride
Diversion Three days before the wedding.
I was hiding in the dressing room, watching my fiancé caress the swollen belly of another woman.
Luca, the man who had saved my life five years ago, was smiling at his mistress, Sofia. But the real knife to the heart wasn't the affair—it was the dress.
The custom wedding gown he had "lovingly" ordered for me featured intricate silver embroidery along the hem.
It didn't spell Elena.
It read Sofia.
He was planning to make me walk down the aisle wearing his mistress's name.
Later that night, I found a video of him mocking me to his crew, calling me a "dead fish" and admitting he only wanted my family's Capo status. He planned to keep his "true love" on the side while I played the role of the oblivious, ornamental wife.
He thought I was just a sheltered princess. He forgot that my bloodline was built on vengeance.
I didn't cry. I didn't confront him. Instead, I scrubbed his scent off my skin and dialed a number everyone in Chicago feared.
"The pact with the Cavallaro family," I asked my father, my voice cold as stone. "Is it still valid?"
"Dante is the Underboss now," my father warned. "He is a butcher. He breaks men for sport."
"Good," I replied. "I am done playing with boys."
I secretly booked the Gold Ballroom across the hall from my original venue. Luca thought he was walking into a marriage on Saturday.
He didn't know I was bringing a monster to the altar instead. Contract With The Devil: Love In Shackles
Dorine Koestler I watched my husband sign the papers that would end our marriage while he was busy texting the woman he actually loved.
He didn't even glance at the header. He just scribbled the sharp, jagged signature that had signed death warrants for half of New York, tossed the file onto the passenger seat, and tapped his screen again.
"Done," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
That was Dante Moretti. The Underboss. A man who could smell a lie from a mile away but couldn't see that his wife had just handed him an annulment decree disguised beneath a stack of mundane logistics reports.
For three years, I scrubbed his blood out of his shirts. I saved his family's alliance when his ex, Sofia, ran off with a civilian.
In return, he treated me like furniture.
He left me in the rain to save Sofia from a broken nail. He left me alone on my birthday to drink champagne on a yacht with her. He even handed me a glass of whiskey—her favorite drink—forgetting that I despised the taste.
I was merely a placeholder. A ghost in my own home.
So, I stopped waiting. I burned our wedding portrait in the fireplace, left my platinum ring in the ashes, and boarded a one-way flight to San Francisco.
I thought I was finally free. I thought I had escaped the cage.
But I underestimated Dante.
When he finally opened that file weeks later and realized he had signed away his wife without looking, the Reaper didn't accept defeat.
He burned down the world to find me, obsessed with reclaiming the woman he had already thrown away. Too Late: The Spare Daughter Escapes Him
SHANA GRAY I died on a Tuesday.
It wasn't a quick death. It was slow, cold, and meticulously planned by the man who called himself my father.
I was twenty years old.
He needed my kidney to save my sister. The spare part for the golden child. I remember the blinding lights of the operating theater, the sterile smell of betrayal, and the phantom pain of a surgeon's scalpel carving into my flesh while my screams echoed unheard. I remember looking through the observation glass and seeing him-my father, Giovanni Vitiello, the Don of the Chicago Outfit-watching me die with the same detached expression he used when signing a death warrant.
He chose her. He always chose her.
And then, I woke up.
Not in heaven. Not in hell. But in my own bed, a year before my scheduled execution. My body was whole, unscarred. The timeline had reset, a glitch in the cruel matrix of my existence, giving me a second chance I never asked for.
This time, when my father handed me a one-way ticket to London-an exile disguised as a severance package-I didn't cry. I didn't beg. My heart, once a bleeding wound, was now a block of ice.
He didn't know he was talking to a ghost.
He didn't know I had already lived through his ultimate betrayal.
He also didn't know that six months ago, during the city's brutal territory wars, I was the one who saved his most valuable asset. In a secret safe house, I stitched up the wounds of a blinded soldier, a man whose life hung by a thread. He never saw my face. He only knew my voice, the scent of vanilla, and the steady touch of my hands. He called me Sette. Seven. For the seven stitches I put in his shoulder.
That man was Dante Moretti. The Ruthless Capo. The man my sister, Isabella, is now set to marry.
She stole my story. She claimed my actions, my voice, my scent. And Dante, the man who could spot a lie from a mile away, believed the beautiful deception because he wanted it to be true. He wanted the golden girl to be his savior, not the invisible sister who was only ever good for her spare parts.
So I took the ticket. In my past life, I fought them, and they silenced me on an operating table. This time, I will let them have their perfect, gilded lie.
I will go to London. I will disappear. I will let Seraphina Vitiello die on that plane.
But I will not be a victim.
This time, I will not be the lamb led to slaughter.
This time, from the shadows of my exile, I will be the one holding the match. And I will wait, with the patience of the dead, to watch their entire world burn. Because a ghost has nothing to lose, and a queen of ashes has an empire to gain. The Discarded Wife's Revenge On The Don
WILONA COOK I stood outside the mahogany doors, balancing a tray of espresso, when I heard my husband promise his sister that my reign as the Queen of Chicago was over.
I thought being the Don's wife meant safety. I was wrong.
In a warehouse reeking of rust, faced with an ultimatum from our enemies to choose who lives, Brennan made his choice.
"Alyssa is strong," he justified, shielding his mistress, Debbi, who was faking a pregnancy. "She knows the life."
He walked out into the sunlight with her, leaving me in the dark with a gun to my head.
He abandoned me to be tortured and murdered by his rivals, weaponizing my resilience to absolve his guilt.
He thought I died that day. He even mourned me after he eventually found out Debbi was a traitor.
But he didn't know the new security guard was an undercover FBI agent who pulled me from the edge.
Two years later, I've built a quiet life running a bistro in Maine under a new name.
But then the bell above the door chimes during the lunch rush.
I look up, and there he is. The husband who sacrificed me.
He's looking at me not with guilt, but with a terrifying, obsessive hope.
He says he burned down the world to fix his mistake. He says he won't let me go again.
I smile, but my hand is already reaching for the wire the FBI gave me.
I'm not a wife anymore, Brennan. I'm the executioner. From Jilted Bride To Mafia Empress
Xiao Wang For seven years, I was the architect of my fiancé's criminal empire and the strategist behind his every move. I was Dante Gallo’s unofficial Consigliere, his partner in everything but name. Tomorrow, I was finally supposed to marry him and take my place as the queen to his throne.
But on the eve of our wedding, a single text message sent by mistake detonated my life. It was a photo from Dante, showing a platinum wedding band on his hand. The message read: “Married this morning. She’s safe now.”
My gaze fell to the engagement ring on my own finger. It was the identical band, just smaller. The engraved initials ‘D.I.’ didn’t stand for Dante and I. They stood for Dante and Isabella—his childhood sweetheart. My entire relationship was a lie; I was just a shield to protect his one true love.
He dismissed my discovery as a "tantrum." Then, his new bride began taunting me, sending a picture of them tangled in bedsheets with the caption: "Loser." They expected me to break. They thought I would shatter.
They were about to find out just how wrong they were. I forwarded the picture to Isabella’s fiancé, a man far more dangerous than Dante. "Your fiancée is in Suite 8808 at the Grand Hyatt," I told him. "I'll meet you downstairs. We're going to crash their party." The Mafia King's Doll Is Now Untouchable
Star Cruiser I spent five years building a multi-million-dollar legitimate fashion empire for my mafia boss boyfriend.
But to the world, I was just a ghost forced to wear shapeless black rags while he bought his female enforcer diamond gowns.
Everything shattered when that same enforcer framed me for fraud and threatened to leak hidden camera footage of me changing clothes to steal my company.
I thought the man who once slaughtered a rival with his bare hands to protect me would tear her apart.
Instead, he snatched my phone away and coldly told me to hand over my business to her.
"Give her a percentage. Keep the peace."
He said exposing his enforcer's treason to the Syndicate would make him look weak.
He had watched her poison my drinks, steal my designs, and mock my life, yet he always defended her.
Looking at his indifferent face, I finally understood the sickening truth.
He wasn't oblivious to her abuse; he was complicit.
My independence terrified him, so he used her cruelty to break my spirit and keep me entirely dependent on him.
His so-called protection was just a twisted cage meant to dim my light.
I looked at the ruthless Don who thought he owned me, and my heart turned to ice.
I didn't cry or beg for his mercy.
Instead, I bypassed his heavy firewalls, started a live broadcast to millions, and calmly dialed the Federal authorities. Mafia Wife's Revenge: Unleashing My Fury
Alfred For five years, I lived a beautiful lie. I was Aliana Hughes, the cherished wife of the city's most feared Mafia Capo and the beloved daughter of the Don. I believed my arranged marriage had blossomed into love.
On my birthday, my husband promised me the amusement park. Instead, I found him there with his other family, celebrating the fifth birthday of the son I never knew he had.
I overheard their plan. My husband called me a "naive fool," a placeholder to legitimize his secret son. The ultimate betrayal wasn't his affair, but the sight of my own father's car parked across the street. My family wasn't just aware; they were the architects of my ruin.
Back home, I found the proof: a secret photo album of my husband's other family posing with my parents, and records showing my father had bankrolled the entire deception. They had even drugged me on weekends so he could play happy family.
The grief didn't break me. It turned into something cold and sharp. I was a ghost in a life that was never mine, and a ghost has nothing to lose.
I copied every damning file onto a USB drive. As they celebrated their perfect day, I sent a courier with my parting gift: a recording of their treachery. While their world burned, I walked toward the airport, ready to erase myself and start over. The Underboss's Wife, Now His Queen
Hydro Therapy I stood outside my husband's study, the perfect mafia wife, only to hear him mocking me as an "ice sculpture" while he entertained his mistress, Aria.
But the betrayal went deeper than infidelity.
A week later, my saddle snapped mid-jump, leaving me with a shattered leg. Lying in the hospital bed, I overheard the conversation that killed the last of my love.
My husband, Alessandro, knew Aria had sabotaged my gear. He knew she could have killed me.
Yet, he told his men to let it go. He called my near-death experience a "lesson" because I had bruised his mistress's ego.
He humiliated me publicly, freezing my accounts to buy family heirlooms for her. He stood by while she threatened to leak our private tapes to the press.
He destroyed my dignity to play the hero for a woman he thought was a helpless orphan.
He had no idea she was a fraud.
He didn't know I had installed micro-cameras throughout the estate while he was busy pampering her.
He didn't know I had hours of footage showing his "innocent" Aria sleeping with his guards, his rivals, and even his staff, laughing about how easy he was to manipulate.
At the annual charity gala, in front of the entire crime family, Alessandro demanded I apologize to her.
I didn't beg. I didn't cry.
I simply connected my drive to the main projector and pressed play. 
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