
Hot For My New Stepbrother
I never should have let my mother hold my future hostage.
She paid my tuition with his father's money. Locked my birth certificate, my transcripts, every scrap of paper I need to survive in a safe I'll never open. And the one thing I had left of my dad, his old watch, she dangled like a noose.
Run, and I lose my education. Fight, and I lose the last piece of the man who actually loved me.
So I moved into the Hunters' mansion. Into the lair of the boy who spent years making my life hell.
Chase Hunter. Six-foot-five of pure venom wrapped in muscle and money. The senior who cornered me in empty hallways, who whispered filth in my ear just to watch me flinch, who smiled that sharp, cruel smile every time I broke a little more.
I thought graduation meant freedom from him.
I was wrong.
Now he's my stepbrother.
He hates that I'm here. Hates my mother for sinking her claws into his father. Hates me most of all, for breathing his air, for walking his halls, for daring to exist where he can reach me.
But hate isn't clean anymore.
It's tangled up in heat. In the way his grey eyes strip me bare every time they land on me. In the way his hand closes around my throat, not to hurt, but to own. In the way he punishes me over his lap, in his car, against walls, until I'm shaking and soaked and furious at myself for wanting more.
He calls me Little Lamb like it's poison on his tongue.
I call him every name I can think of under my breath.
How long until we stop fighting the deadly inferno raging between us and finally let it consume us both?
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Chapter 2
Aurelia
Chase leaned down, his six-foot-five frame eclipsing everything behind him. His shoulders blocked the light, turning the air between us heavy and close.
My mouth went dry. When I licked my lips, his gaze followed the movement with unsettling precision.
I tried to step back., but I was too slow.
His hand closed around my throat, not tight enough to crush, but firm enough to warn. He drove me backward until my spine met the wall, the impact knocking the breath from my lungs.
"What are you doing on my property, Little Lamb?" he growled.
I met his stare instead of answering. My pulse thundered in my ears, but I refused to look away.
His fingers tightened around my throat, a calculated pressure meant to intimidate me.
I forced air into my lungs. "Let. Go."
His thigh shifted forward, caging me in, cutting off any easy escape.
The heat radiating from him was oppressive, a reminder of how easily he could overpower me, but my traitorous body leaned into his warmth, craving more.
"Careful," he said quietly, his voice rough. "Defiance is a dangerous habit."
Fear clawed at my chest, but I held my ground. If I gave him panic, he'd feed on it. If I gave him silence, he'd have to decide what to do next.
"We moved in, now let me go." I said, ignoring the way my heart was pounding wildly in my chest.
For a split second, shock cracked through his expression. His fingers loosened, just slightly.
"What the fuck?" he muttered, his grey eyes darkening as they narrowed. "Your mother tricked my father into proposing to her, didn't she?" He asked in a deep, feral baritone that sent shivers dancing on my skin.
I couldn't answer, his body was so close to mine that even breathing felt reckless. The slightest movement would cause my chest to brush his arm.
And I wasn't wearing a bra. My breasts were bare beneath the thin fabric of my dress, and I was acutely, humiliatingly aware of it.
"What's going on there, Chase?" a female voice cut in from behind him.
He released me immediately, stepping back as if I'd burned him. Space rushed in between us.
A girl about my age approached, water glistening on her skin, her long legs slick from the pool. So they'd been swimming together. Of course they had.
"Oh, nothing," Chase said easily, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "I was just helping my new stepsister find the garden house."
His eyes flicked to mine, sharp and knowing, a warning wrapped in mockery.
The girl lifted a brow but didn't comment.
"Alright then," she said lightly. "You promised you'd take me out on your new bike. I'm ready now, babe."
Before Chase turned away, he caught my arm, his fingers biting just enough to remind me he could do worse. He leaned down, his mouth close to my ear.
"Stay out of my way, Little Lamb," he murmured. "Or I'll be the big bad wolf who eats you."
His lips brushed the shell of my ear.
And to my horror, my fear fractured and twisted into something dangerously close to anticipation.
He let me go and walked away with her.
She didn't follow immediately. Instead, she lingered, studying me with open suspicion.
"He doesn't like you," she said bluntly. "So get that into your head and avoid him."
Her mouth twisted as she continued, each word edged with contempt.
"You might be his stepsister now, but to him? You're just the daughter of a money-hungry whore." She clicked her tongue before walking away to join Chase.
With unsteady legs, I made my way back to my mother. She was standing beside the man who would soon be my stepfather, Darlington Hunter.
He was an older, softened version of Chase. Same bone structure, same presence, but dulled by age and excess, his stomach straining slightly against his tailored shirt.
I wondered, not for the first time, what my mother saw in him. He had looks, yes. Money, definitely. But whatever else there was felt hollow.
"Aurelia," she said brightly when she noticed me, her hand sliding possessively over his chest, "say hello to your daddy."
The word made my stomach churn.
"He's not my daddy," I hissed.
Darlington chuckled, unbothered, as if I hadn't just stripped the word of any warmth it pretended to carry. He extended his hand toward me.
I ignored it.
My mother's stare drilled into my forehead, sharp and furious, but I didn't look away. Darlington simply let his hand fall.
"Nice to meet you, Aurelia," he said pleasantly. "Your mother has told me beautiful things about you."
When he smiled, two gold teeth flashed under the light.
I folded my arms. "Oh? I wish I could say the same."
My mother's eyes narrowed.
"She's just having one of her nonsense mood swings," she said quickly, laughing it off. "You know how girls are."
Darlington's phone rang before I could respond. He kissed my mother on the lips, then excused himself.
He hadn't taken more than five steps when my mother's arm swung.
I saw it coming. I didn't flinch when her palm connected with my cheek.
"I warned you, Aurelia," she snapped. "But you never listen. Stubborn. Just like your father."
"He'd be heartbroken," I said quietly, my face burning. "Watching you sell yourself to rich men."
Her hand clamped around my arm, twisting hard enough to make pain bloom.
"Don't forget," she said through clenched teeth, "I have all your papers. Misbehave, and I'll throw you out."
She released me and walked away as if nothing had happened.
I held the tears until she disappeared into the Hunters' gigantic mansion.
The roar of an engine shattered the moment.
I turned just in time to see Chase astride his bike, revving the engine. The machine gleamed beneath him, expensive, powerful, untouchable. Just like him.
Before he pulled the helmet on, our eyes locked.
His grey gaze hardened instantly, turning cold and unyielding. He lifted two fingers and dragged them slowly across his throat in a silent, mocking warning.
Beside him, his girlfriend hopped on the bike, her mouth set in a permanent scowl.
I watched as Chase sped off, his leather jacket snapping in the wind as he disappeared down the road.
I was in his world now.
And whether I wanted it or not, I would have to survive it.
I busied myself with unpacking until late into the night. I was halfway through my shower when the water abruptly died.
Then the lights went out.
A crack of thunder split the air, followed by lightning so close it rattled the walls. I flinched, pressing a hand to my chest as my heartbeat skidded out of rhythm.
There was a storm?
I stood there for several minutes, shivering beneath the dead spray, waiting for the lights to flicker back on. They didn't.
The cold crept in slowly, insistently, until my teeth began to chatter.
Blinded by darkness, I reached for my towel and wrapped it tightly around myself.
Careful not to slip, I stepped out of the shower and into my new bedroom.
The tiles were slick beneath my feet, unfamiliar and unwelcoming.
Maybe my mother would know what had happened, whether this was just another inconvenience or something worse.
The hallway beyond my door was swallowed in black.
I stretched my hands out in front of me, my fingers brushing along the wall as I edged forward.
I couldn't even see my own hands. Every sound felt amplified, the distant rumble of thunder, the soft pad of my footsteps, the uneven rhythm of my breathing.
The sound of boots pounding the floor caused me to stop abruptly. Someone was coming, but I didn't know if the person was approaching behind me or ahead.
Shit. I was naked underneath this towel, and it was too dark to see who it was. I had to turn around.
The footsteps grew louder, closer. I couldn't just stand there like a scared little chicken, so I walked faster, heading back to my room.
Thunder cracked so hard and loud that it rattled the windows, a violent boom that seemed to shake the entire mansion.
I flinched, my heart slamming against my ribs, and in that split second of distraction, my bare foot slipped on the slick marble floor.
I stumbled forward, my arms flailing for balance that wasn't there.
Strong hands caught me, too late to stop the fall, but enough to twist us mid-air.
We crashed together onto the cold hallway floor, my back hitting the marble with a jolt that knocked the breath from my lungs.
My stupid towel unraveled in the chaos, slipping from my wet skin like a traitor.
For one endless heartbeat, everything was pure darkness.
Then the lights snapped back on, harsh and unforgiving, flooding the corridor in blinding white.
Chase Hunter was sprawled over me, his heavy body pinning mine to the floor, one muscular thigh wedged firmly between my legs.
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7.2
Clare Lynch thought she was celebrating her fairy-tale engagement. She happily drank the pink cocktail her best friend, Brianna, handed her.
But the drink was laced with a powerful, burning drug. As Clare's legs gave out, she overheard Brianna whispering outside the door. Her best friend had hired two thugs to assault her on camera and completely ruin her life.
Terrified and gasping for air, Clare hid in the VIP room and called her fiancé, Jaren, for help.
"I feel sick. Something is wrong. Please come get me."
But Jaren just sighed impatiently, busy comforting his mistress in the background.
"Stop throwing tantrums for attention. Grow up."
Jaren hung up the phone. When Clare finally escaped and begged her grandmother to cancel the wedding, the matriarch coldly refused. She told Clare that marriage was just a business transaction, and she had to endure Jaren's cheating because their family needed the Bolton's money.
Betrayed by her best friend, abandoned by her fiancé, and sold out by her own blood. Clare's world completely collapsed. She was nothing but a bargaining chip, thrown to the monsters by the people she loved most. The sheer injustice of it burned her soul to ash.
With her last ounce of strength, Clare made a desperate choice. She called Aurthur Bolton—Jaren's ruthless, terrifying uncle. When the most dangerous man in New York kicked down the door to save her, Clare made a silent vow. She was done playing the perfect victim. She would let the devil claim her, as long as he helped her burn her abusers to the ground.

8.1
A slow-burn romance about love, loss, and becoming worthy of the heart you almost lost.
Julien Moreau has everything-money, charm, and women who fall for him too easily.
What he doesn't have is the ability to stay.
In Paris, he is known for loving without commitment and leaving without explanation. Hearts break behind him, and he never looks back.
Until Amélie Laurent.
She is different.
She doesn't chase him.
She doesn't beg for love.
And when she realizes Julien isn't ready to love honestly, she does the one thing no woman before her has done-
She walks away.
What follows is not a chase, but a reckoning.
As Julien is forced to face the emotional damage he has left behind, he learns that love isn't about desire or charm-it's about responsibility. And Amélie learns that loving someone should never cost her self-respect.
In a city where romance is everywhere, two hearts must decide:
Is love something you run from...
Or something you grow into?
Hearts Don't Break in Paris - They Teach is an emotional, slow-burn romance filled with self-discovery, redemption, and a love that chooses honesty over fear.

9.3
Jade knows what it feels like to have no one in her corner; she experienced it firsthand when her aunt sweet-talked her parents and took her to the Philippines' when she was eight. After years of abuse and being used, the only thing Jade wished for was an escape to finally go home and be with her family. All Jade wished for was to experience what it feels like to be loved once again and she got that when she finally escaped from her aunt and made her way back home to her pack and family in Detroit. Finding out that the Alpha Heir Hunter was her mate was the best thing to ever happen to Jade, and Hunter gave Jade a home, love, and became the safety and comfort Jade had always wished for. Two years of blissful union came to an abrupt end when Jade woke up in bed with her sister's boyfriend after a party. Her life goes from sweet to bitter in a matter of days as everyone Jade once loved turned their backs on her, refusing to believe them when she said she didn't cheat on her mate. How could she? Hunter was the love of her life.
Jade goes from preparing to becoming the Luna of the Blackwood Pack, to being treated no less than a traitor. Hunter doesn't wait another heartbeat before rejecting her, and Jade is soon branded as a defective mate, banished to the woods as a rogue. How will Jade survive life as a pregnant rogue? The cursed brand on her neck makes it impossible for any pack to take her in. Will her mate come after her? Or will Jade find her strength somewhere else and come back to enact her revenge on the people who hurt her?

7.6
Luna thought she married a quiet, ordinary man to escape her family and an ex-fiancé plotting against her. Ethan Cole seemed harmless, but behind the scenes, he controls Bangkok's most formidable empire. As strange events unfold and rivals fall, Luna begins to see the hidden power of the man she married. Secrets, love, and vengeance entwine, revealing a truth that will shake her world-and her heart.

7.8
Rosalind Rivers has only ever wanted one thing - revenge.
The Lycan Prince, Aklan Draven, murdered her brother in cold blood. Or so she's believed her whole life. Now, forced to serve under him at the Lycan Academy, she has no choice but to obey the man she swore to hate. But hating him becomes harder with every clash, every stolen glance, every heartbeat that refuses to stay loyal to her rage.
Because fate has a cruel sense of humor.
He's her fated mate.
Aklan doesn't understand why this stubborn, sharp-tongued wolf gets under his skin or why her scent feels like home. He only knows she's trouble. The kind that tests his control, drags buried memories to the surface, and makes him question everything he thought he knew about loyalty and guilt.
But when a hidden truth comes to light - that Rosalind's brother didn't die by Aklan's hand but by choice, their world begins to unravel. Old wounds reopen. Ancient forces stir. And Rosalind learns she is no ordinary wolf, but something far rarer, something worth killing for.
Between vengeance and love, duty and destiny, one wrong move could ignite a war between realms.
And the cruelest part?
She might just lose her heart to the man she was born to destroy.

9.5
One night, I was a girl seeking vengeance in a velvet mask. He was the stranger who took me against a cold stone wall, his touch a silent, lethal promise.
Now, he is Caspian Blackwood-the most feared architecture professor at Aethelgard. When my "perfect" boyfriend, Dominic Calloway, cheats on me and sabotages my degree, Caspian offers a lifeline with a razor-thin edge: Be his silent, nude model for thirty days.
The rules are absolute. I must wear a silk mask and a weighted collar. I must never speak. I must hold the poses he demands until my muscles scream for mercy. In the lecture hall, he ignores me with arctic indifference. In the studio, his gaze is a physical weight, stripping me faster than his hands ever could. But as the charcoal scratches against the paper, I realize the "deal" isn't just for art. It's for the soul I accidentally gave him in the dark. Will the deal destroy his career, or consume me first?