My Devil Ex-husband's Obsession
She once called him her husband.
Now, she calls him a devil.
After catching her husband in his ex's house one too many times, she walked away,pregnant, broken, and done.
Four years later, fate laughs when she runs into him again, more powerful, colder, and dangerously obsessed.
He wants her back, but not for love. For revenge. For reasons buried beneath his arrogance and her silence.
But as she fights the pull between hate and desire, she learns something terrifying
The devil she runs into might not be the same man she divorced.
He's darker, hungrier... and this time, he's not letting her go.
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Chapter 7
8:00 PM
Taylor
The bass from the speakers thumped through the floor, echoing in my chest. My palms were clammy against my purse as I stood before the double doors. Behind me, laughter spilled from the cheaper section of the building, the one meant for employees like me who weren't "important" enough for the main event.
And yet, here I was.
The guards at the entrance glanced at my invitation and wordlessly opened the doors. My breath caught.
I muttered to myself," You can do this, Taylor. He's just a puppet of the devil. Not like he has powers or anything..."
Then, one of the guards snapped me back to reality. " Ma'am..."
I nodded and walked in holding the piece of hope left in me.
The room sparkled. Gold chandeliers, velvet curtains, champagne fountains every inch screamed wealth. I instantly regretted my simple gown and soft curls. Everyone dressed so expensive that they could pay my rent.
I was seconds from retreating when I felt a warm breath behind my ear.
"Didn't think I'd see you here looking like that," a voice drawled.
I stiffened. That voice. My heart did that thing again, skipping, stuttering, like it recognized the voice before my head did.
I turned and there he was. Devon stood there. Brown shirt unbuttoned halfway, showing the faint curve of his chest. A glass of whiskey dangled from his fingers, and his mouth tilted in that same crooked smirk that had once made my knees weak.
"Devon," I breathed. His name tasted bitter.
"I...uh.." The words died in my throat.
He smirked. "What? No snarky comment? That's not the Taylor I know."
I folded my arms, trying to seem composed. "I didn't come here to talk to you. I just want to leave before midnight."
"Leave?" His gaze dragged lazily down my dress. "Shame. You finally look like trouble and now you want to disappear?"
My heart gave a traitorous thump. "You're drunk," I muttered.
"Maybe," he said, stepping closer. "But I still know a lie when I hear one. You missed me."
I blinked, heat crawling up my neck. "You have a girlfriend, remember? Or did you forget her name tonight?"
His eyes darkened. "That's rich, coming from the woman who vanished without a word."
He looked me over slowly like he was cataloging every inch he'd once memorized. "You cleaned up nice," he said lazily. "Though you're overdressed for someone who wants to stay invisible."
I knew he was just trying to get on my nerves. How the hell am I overdressed?
"Maybe I would have put on a bikini just for you.." I mocked.
He chuckled, a deep sound that curled in my stomach. "Don't lie, Taylor. You love pretending you don't want to see me."
I rolled my eyes, stepping aside to escape his gaze. "You've had too much to drink."
"Not enough to forget how you used to look at me." His voice dropped low, intimate. "Like I was the only thing keeping you from breathing."
My pulse jumped. "You're imagining things."
He leaned in until his breath brushed my neck. "Then why are you shaking?"
I stepped back quickly, glaring at him. "You're unbelievable. You think you can walk in here, flirt, and I'll just..."
He cut me off with a quiet, dangerous smile. "Think? Babe... oh..I know.."
The silence between us thickened. I hated that he could still pull words right out of my throat, twist my heart, make it forget my words. It was understandable because I felt high over heels for this man and my love for him got to a point where I said I'd die for him. For a moment in the past, I thought of returning to him.
I know I've burned every part of my heart that loves him but even when you burn an object, part of it still remains as ashes. It's never burnt completely.
I tried to sidestep him, but his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my wrist, not hard, but firm.
"Devon, let go," I said quietly.
He leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek. "How about a dance? In the..gallery!"
" In the gallery? Really?" I snapped, yanking my wrist back.
My gaze went to his pocket and asked, " What's in your pocket? Huh? "
For the first time, he stuttered, " No .. nothing.."
I knew him. Too well. In the swift of a motion, I put my hands in his pockets and brought out a condom.
I shut my eyes and opened them releasing a sigh, " Please tell me this is for your girlfriend? "
" Yes, you! "
My lips parted, but before I could speak, his breath hit stronger, sharp and I suddenly wanted to gag.
"Devon, please. You reek of whiskey. Just go home before you embarrass yourself."
He froze. His eyes flickered between anger and confusion, and for the first time, he looked... lost.
But I'd had enough.
I spun around and started walking off, my pulse drumming in my ears.
As I moved forward, I spotted someone across the room, the same coworker who'd mocked me in the office yesterday. She shouldn't even be in a VIP event. I blinked once, and she was gone. Just gone.
How did she get here? Was she connected to an upper head?
Weird.
I reached into my purse for my phone to call Lara and check on Ashley. But before I could dial, someone slammed into me.
My phone flew from my hand, clattering across the floor and then came the sound of glass shattering.
I looked up and saw Ivy. Her lips curved in a mocking smile.
"What the hell, Ivy?" I said, my voice shaking.
She crossed her arms. "Oops. Didn't see you there. Or maybe I just didn't care."
My stomach tightened. "You broke my phone!"
Her smirk widened. "Maybe now you'll stop begging him to replace it for you. I know your type, Taylor, always waiting for a man to fix your problems."
The words sliced deeper than I wanted to admit.
"You really think I need Devon for that?" I stepped closer, forcing her to meet my gaze. "You think breaking my phone makes you powerful?"
Her face twitched, but she held her tone steady. "I think it makes me smart. Maybe he'll finally see you for the desperate leech you are."
Rage bubbled inside me. My fists trembled at my sides. I've never talked to her until now and she was still the same brat three years ago.
"You're so insecure it's almost sad," I hissed. "If you think destroying a hundred-dollar phone will make him love you, you're already losing."
Her jaw flexed, but before she could reply, a waiter stumbled past us, and a splash of red wine spilled across my chest.
" You bitch! " I yelled.
And with that, she pushed me into a dinner table.
In an instant, flames of the red candle reached the edge of a curtain where it had tipped. Panic rippled through the hall as people screamed and rushed backward.
"Shit!" someone yelled.
Pain shot into my leg. I looked down, a jagged piece of glass had sliced into my foot.
My breath came in short, panicked bursts.
Then a familiar voice roared, "Taylor!"
Devon appeared out of the chaos, shoving through the crowd. His eyes found mine, and for a second, the world blurred.
He dropped to his knees beside me, his hand brushing the cut on my leg. "You're bleeding. Damn it..."
"It's fine," I whispered, even though my voice trembled.
"No, it's not." His arms slid under me before I could protest.
"Devon..."
"Shut up," he muttered, pulling me against his chest as if I weighed nothing as he scooped me into his hands.
I gasped, clutching his shirt. "Devon...put me down! Everyone's watching.."
"Let them," he said darkly, his breath brushing my ear. "I'm not letting you collapse in front of them."
As he carried me outside into the night air, the fire alarms wailed behind us. My heart hammered against his.
And all I could think was.. no matter how much I hated him, I still felt safe in his arms.
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7.6
Johana walked half a mile through a brutal blizzard just to secure a tutoring job with the elite Black family.
But the very night she was hired, she received a terrifying call from the ER—her quiet roommate, Hazelle, had been drugged and severely traumatized at a Hamptons party.
When Johana rushed to the hospital, she didn't find the police. Instead, she found a team of ruthless billionaires erasing the crime.
Leading them was Dalton Black, the cold, arrogant older brother of her new student.
Within minutes, Dalton's fixers wiped the hospital's security footage, deleted all digital evidence, and forcefully transferred Hazelle to a locked private psychiatric facility.
"We are ensuring her privacy."
Dalton's voice was devoid of emotion, treating the horrific assault like a minor PR glitch.
His friends mocked Johana's powerlessness, while Dalton authorized a blank check to pay for the private ward, effectively burying the scandal and buying their silence.
Johana stood in the sterile hallway, trembling with a mix of despair and absolute rage.
How could they destroy an innocent girl's life and simply pay to make it disappear? Why was the truth so easily erased by money?
She had no wealth, no connections, and no proof, but she refused to be a victim of their cover-up.
Staring directly into Dalton's intimidating, icy blue eyes, Johana made a vow.
"I don't want your money. I will find out what you monsters did to her."
She thought the billionaire heir would crush her on the spot, but instead, he watched her walk away and quietly ordered his assistant: "Find out everything about Johana Neal."
9.3
Six years ago, my adoptive family framed me for commercial espionage, stripped me of my identity, and threw me out. Now, I finally returned to the Solis estate as a commercial pilot to take back what was mine.
But the first thing my adoptive mother did was threaten me with that forged evidence again. She demanded I take my sister Kiana's place in a marriage contract with a disabled man, simply because Kiana refused to marry him.
When I refused, Kiana ambushed me at the airport with a mob of reporters. She cried for the cameras, publicly accusing me of causing our father's and brother's deaths. She painted me as a ruthless monster who bankrupted the company and ruined the family. The crowd instantly turned on me, screaming that I was a murderer and a gold-digger. Kiana wanted to completely destroy my reputation so I would have no choice but to submit to her arrangement.
I looked at her fake tears, feeling a cold, absolute fury. How dare she use the tragic deaths of the only family members who actually loved me as a prop for her sick show? They had ruined my life once, and now they wanted to bury me alive.
I didn't hesitate. I slapped her hard across the face right in front of the flashing cameras.
"That was for my father and brother."
Then, my real fiancé, a decorated Delta Force commander, rolled through the crowd in his wheelchair. He tossed a classified Pentagon file to the reporters, completely clearing my name and exposing Kiana's lies. I married him to start my revenge, but as I stepped into his heavily secured penthouse that night, I realized my powerful new husband had been preparing for me for a very long time.
7.5
"Let's play a game."
"What game?"
"One that involves you not screaming."
★★★★★
I'd been the perfect girlfriend to my star hockey player for two years.
Stood in the rain at his practices. Drove hours just to watch him warm benches. Wore his jersey like it meant something.
And he repaid me by fucking his way through half of Chicago-including the sister of the one man he's been obsessed with for years.
Zane Mercer.
The NHL's most dangerous player. My stepfather's worst enemy. And the man who looked at me like I was something worth destroying the world for.
One impossible offer.
One desperate bet.
One night that changed everything.
Zane doesn't do fake. He doesn't do half measures.
When he tells me I'm his for two months, he means it. In every way that matters.
But Zane has secrets buried so deep they connect to my family's past in ways I never imagined. Dark secrets. Deadly ones.
What starts as a transaction turns into obsession.
What starts as revenge turns into something I can't walk away from.
And what starts as a lie might be the only truth that matters.
They say some men are too dangerous to love.
They're right.
But I was never good at following warnings.
★★★★★
This book contains explicit sexual content, dominant/possessive behavior, morally gray characters, family conflict, and themes that may be triggering. Intended for mature readers 18+.
This isn't your normal hockey romance. It's dark, raw, and unrelenting-where obsession, desire, and power collide, and nothing is off-limits.
9.7
When Lucien Blackthorn ended his exile and returned to the Cold Ridge pack, he returned to clear his name.
And to take revenge on Corrigan Price.
And what better revenge was there than making her his mistress?
Corrigan didn't regret anything more than she regretted having to betray Lucien and his coming back only helped to enforce that feeling. When she became his mistress, she swore he would never have her heart.
As Lucien and Corrigan struggle with their inner conflicts, they also have to fight against external factors trying to pull them apart. Will they be able to embrace their love against all odds?
7.6
Top DEA agent Kaitlynn Bruce woke up to a heavy, chemical lethargy, only to realize she was trapped in the body of a weak, abused war widow.
Before she could even process her new reality, she heard her sister-in-law counting cash, selling her unconscious body to a local thug for a measly two hundred dollars.
The thug dragged her new seven-year-old son, Cason, into the bedroom.
"Mommy!"
When the boy reached out, the man brutally kicked his small body into a wooden doorframe, leaving him gasping and bleeding on the floor.
Memories flooded Kaitlynn's mind. Her predecessor was a pathetic doormat whose husband's military pension had been bled dry by these greedy in-laws, leaving her children to starve and suffer endless abuse.
But as Kaitlynn looked at the bleeding boy's dark, unnervingly alert eyes, a chilling piece of DEA intelligence clicked in her mind.
Cason Richmond.
The name, the town, the abusive aunt—it all matched the classified files of the "Director of the Hive," the most ruthless and feared cartel puppet master in the criminal underworld.
How could this battered, starving child be destined to become the ultimate monster she used to hunt?
The original widow's tragic death was supposed to be the catalyst that pushed this boy into total darkness.
But Kaitlynn Bruce was not a victim.
Adrenaline burning through the drugs, she cracked the thug's neck with a brass lamp and choked the sister-in-law against the wall.
Looking down at the boy who was supposed to become a global nightmare, she made a vow. She was going to rewrite his script, even if she had to burn the whole world down to do it.
9.7
No matter how far I ran, no matter how deep I hid, I knew one truth... He would always find me.
Knock. Knock.
I jolted up from my sitting position, with my heart hammering in my chest.
Just as I was saying... He had already found me.
But by the time he broke down the rickety door, I was already standing and facing him with a knife to my wrist.
I'd rather die than return home with him as his mate.
***
TRIGGER WARNING!
This is a dark, taboo romance containing graphic themes, possessive men, hate-fueled sex, psychological intensity, emotional torment, and taboo that will wreck your morals. Reader discretion is strongly advised. Read only if you're ready to fall for monsters.
***
Eve thought she and her mother had successfully escaped her abusive father by getting married to the former Alpha of a pack far away from where they used to live.
But all her hopes and expectations were cut short the moment she realized her new stepbrother, Alpha Saint, who was also the current Alpha of her new pack, was the same man she had a one-night stand with eight months ago, along with his best friend, Beta Kyrie. And on that fateful night, she had stolen very valuable items from these men.
Hated and controlled by her stepbrother, Saint, who saw her as nothing but a thieving whore, Eve decided to find solace in Kyrie, who was already falling madly in love with her. But Saint would rather fight his best friend to the death than let him anywhere close to the woman he was secretly obsessed with from the day he set eyes on her – Eve.
All hell was let loose when Eve turned twenty-one and found out that not only was she mated to the man she loved and desired – Kyrie. She was also mated to her overly possessive stepbrother, whom she dreaded with her life.
Saint burns with obsession. Kyrie aches with desire. And both men aren't willing to share.
How far can she run? And how much blood are they willing to shed, just to stake their individual claim on her?