Alive
5 Published Stories
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?
You might like
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." Rejected by the Son, I Chose the Don
Rabbit On my wedding day, my father sold me to the Chicago Outfit to pay his debts. I was supposed to marry Alex Moreno, the heir to the city's most powerful crime family. But he couldn't even be bothered to show up.
As I stood alone at the altar, humiliated, my best friend delivered the final blow. Alex hadn't just stood me up; he had run off to California with his mistress.
The whispers in the cathedral turned me into a joke. I was damaged goods, the rejected bride. His family knew the whole time and let me take the public fall, offering me his cousins as pathetic replacements-a brute who hated me or a coward who couldn't protect me.
The humiliation burned away my fear, leaving only cold rage. My life was already over, so I decided to set the whole game on fire myself. The marriage pact only said a Carlson had to marry a Moreno; it never said which one.
With nothing left to lose, I looked past the pathetic boys they offered.
I chose the one man they never expected.
I chose his father, the Don himself.
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. 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. Reborn To Love My Outlaw Husband
Little Red Riding Hood "Once she's finally dead, I want you to take me - right there, in that outlaw President's own bed... promise me, Blaze."
Lying in a freezing pool of my own blood, I watched the man I had loved for three years flirt shamelessly with my cousin. Meanwhile, my so-called "best friend" greedily stripped the wedding ring off my bleeding finger. "Take her. Have your fun with her, just don't let that pretty face go to waste," the scumbag sneered, kicking me aside. As a group of tattooed thugs approached with sickening, lustful grins, I was swallowed by absolute, shivering despair.
Just as I prepared to bite my own tongue to end it all-a deafening engine roar shattered the night. My husband, the ruthless MC President Axel, the "monster" I had spent my life trying to escape, charged into the hellfire covered in blood. He used his massive frame to shield me from every bullet. With his dying breath, his normally cold eyes held nothing but desperate, humble tenderness. "Don't be afraid... I love you..."
When I opened my eyes, I was reborn a year before our fatal fallout. To completely sever ties with the cheating scumbag, I secretly liquidated all my designer assets, transferring the funds into an untraceable offshore account. But the financial report was handed straight to Axel.
He forcefully cornered me against the wall, his eyes swirling with a devastating mix of soul-crushing heartbreak and violent obsession as he ruthlessly bit my lip. "Chloe, even if you run to the ends of the earth, I will drag you back in chains!" he growled, his voice hoarse and his eyes red. "But from tonight on... until I see your lover's corpse with my own eyes, don't you ever try to touch me again."
I wrapped my arms tightly around his solid waist from behind, my small hands slipping under his half-open leather jacket to trace the hard lines of his tense abs. Feeling his massive body instantly freeze into stone, I stood on my toes and whispered breathily against his ear: "Okay. But before you kill him... hubby, don't you want to come back to bed and fulfill your duties as my husband first?" His Vow Broke, Her Empire Woke
Hei Baidong I was the perfect Mafia wife, my dowry the foundation of my husband's ambition. I paid for his Yale degree, his tailored suits, and the very mansion he called his own. My reward? He paraded his mistress into my bedroom and declared her his second wife, expecting me to silently finance their affair.
They thought they had broken a merchant's daughter. They forgot I was raised by wolves.
Armed with a blood chit—a life debt owed to my family by the most feared man in Chicago—I walked into the lion's den. I went to Damien 'The Wraith' Falcone, the Dark Don who rules the Outfit with an iron fist, to demand a simple annulment.
But the King of Chicago isn't interested in simple transactions. He saw the steel beneath my silk, the vendetta burning in my eyes. He granted me my freedom, but at a price: my allegiance. Now, I'm a pawn in his lethal game of thrones, caught between a treacherous husband I swore to destroy and a ruthless Don who looks at me with a terrifying, possessive hunger.
In a city built on loyalty and betrayal, I'm about to teach them all that a queen's wrath is the deadliest weapon of all. 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. Abandoned Heiress, Now His Mafia Bride
Priority I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them. 
/0/59032/coverorgin.jpg?v=20240829184714&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/58785/coverorgin.jpg?v=8fe3ccd0c44585ccdfda935def90f5c0&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/58512/coverorgin.jpg?v=3181730831dc7f2ce435af829b1fc6c1&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/51295/coverorgin.jpg?v=4a01439658f94b74134bdc8fa757c3d3&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/0/51038/coverorgin.jpg?v=7567ee857852a0351b3dab367c1b598d&imageMogr2/format/webp)
0
TOP UP
Reading History
Sign out
Get the APP
/1/114138/coverorgin.jpg?v=164013c02dfb792cf8a9a1af73947c2c&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/106756/coverorgin.jpg?v=97365198d2e42e4794a57a69368cfbf7&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/100248/coverorgin.jpg?v=fbbf5c1f42fb2058c92295a1577af81a&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/113925/coverorgin.jpg?v=c6e15296bd8e45d6d62240edf0bb3c2b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110205/coverorgin.jpg?v=601e654ea2c5fdd60eeddb011bdb9433&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/126839/coverorgin.jpg?v=9ee11a8eed4fdad1fd57d5e39976325b&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114681/coverorgin.jpg?v=afc98375fb3cbaccbdf70eb3483a4feb&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/110543/coverorgin.jpg?v=e20a8aeb26ac7cb54c542fa151b05a99&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/103295/coverorgin.jpg?v=4fb4544c0f72c1146e588a96b06100df&imageMogr2/format/webp)
/1/114602/coverorgin.jpg?v=647b8ec2327f2ef98bb0fad7973e3408&imageMogr2/format/webp)