Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:17 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Suzanne Wright – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Black Willow Witch Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/black-willow-witch-read-online-suzanne-wright Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:17 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/black-willow-witch-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Advertisement

Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 134501 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 673(@200wpm)___ 538(@250wpm)___ 448(@300wpm)

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"Be the biggest, baddest witch in town so no one ever dares bully you again." That was her grandmother's advice and it's been Emberlyn's law since she was a child. It's kept the local coven at bay - until now...

They're furious she won't give up Black Willow Manor, her grandmother's prized home and worse - that the land beside it and Emberlyn herself has been left to Jax 'Ripper' Stone, a rugged, brooding Alpha werewolf.
The chemistry between them has always been white hot but Ripper knows to be careful with witches- especially one with her reputation. Now they are allies it becomes harder to ignore - Emberlyn calls to him. Drives him to claim her. But danger's closing in, threatening to take her from him.

Not that Emberlyn can't handle it. She's no damsel. Doesn't need a hero. Sometimes, it takes a wicked witch to get things done. And Emberlyn has ever excelled at being wicked.

Welcome to Chilgrave... HEA guaranteed!

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Emberlyn, age seven

Her heart beating superfast, Emberlyn sprinted up the hill. Her leg muscles burned, but she didn’t stop.

So close. They were so close. Running. Panting. Laughing.

They were always laughing. Always whispering and pointing and saying mean stuff to her at school.

Every day they came at her. Shoulders shoved into hers. Feet tripped her up. Stuff got tossed at her head. Hands ‘accidentally’ knocked her pens off the table. And always, always, they’d laugh and call her ‘pathetic’.

Sometimes, other kids in her class laughed along. It made her feel small, embarrassed and alone.

Emberlyn had told her teacher about it. He’d promised to ‘have a word’ with Tyra and her four flying monkeys. But if he had talked to them – and maybe he hadn’t, since Tyra was the daughter of his High Priestess – it hadn’t made a difference.

Then, just yesterday during recess, Tyra had pushed her so hard that she’d fallen into a puddle that had left her with a cold, wet butt.

And again, they’d laughed.

‘You might as well stop, freak!’ yelled Sera, Tyra’s cousin. ‘There’s nowhere to go!’

Well there was somewhere, but Emberlyn wouldn’t be heading into Bloodhill Forest. Not many did – the bullies behind her had nothing on the creatures that roamed it. She just wanted to reach the top of the hill. So she ran and ran and ran, never looking back; worried she’d otherwise trip. But she sensed that they were gaining on her.

She’d known that they would track her down after school today – they’d been angry that she’d talked to the principal again. Not that it had helped. They’d denied everything, and it was her word against theirs. Emberlyn’s word meant nothing to the coven.

Why?

Because she wasn’t part of it, much like her grandmother – a woman they both feared and resented. Okay, so they were right in claiming Millicent was ‘into some pretty dark stuff’ and that she wasn’t the nicest person in the world. But that shouldn’t mean that the coven could be mean to Emberlyn because of it.

When she’d told her grandmother about yesterday’s puddle incident, Millicent’s advice had been simple: If someone pushes you, you push them back harder. A lot harder.

So that’s what Emberlyn would do.

Finally reaching the top of the hill, she came to a stop, raspy breaths bursting in and out of her. She turned on shaky legs, watching as the bullies skidded to a halt.

Tyra smirked, shoving her red braid over her shoulder. ‘Aw, did the little freak run out of steam? How sad.’ She paused, trying to catch her breath. ‘I’d dare you to go cry to your mommy and daddy . . . but you can’t, can you?’

A round of giggles went up, and Emberlyn felt her ears go red.

‘I heard my parents talking about yours,’ said Sera. ‘It isn’t true that your dad got asked to leave town, you know. He cheated on your mom and then left with his side piece.’

Emberlyn did know. Her grandmother had told her all about how she’d cursed that ‘lying, cheating, son of a bitch’.

‘Your mom just couldn’t hack it, could she?’ taunted Tyra. ‘She let herself fade away, not caring that the only person you’d then have would be that psycho you live with. No offense, Ames,’ she added, sliding her gaze to Emberlyn’s very own cousin.

He only grinned. ‘None taken. My Grams is a total psycho – everyone knows that.’

He may think that, but he was super nice to Millicent, the two-faced ass.

Tyra planted her hands on her hips. ‘You got nothing to say, orphan?’

‘Yes.’ Emberlyn smiled sweetly. ‘I just wanted to say “thank you”.’

Tyra’s brows snapped together. ‘For what?’

‘For letting me lure you out here, where no one’ll hear you scream.’ Emberlyn raised her hands and, calling on the lessons that Millicent had given her, sent out her magick in glittering, rippling streams that whirled around and settled on the grass.

Thorny vines sprouted out of the circle of magick . . . then snakes . . . spiders . . . cockroaches . . . toads.

The kids screamed and tried running away but hit an invisible barrier. Trapped, they called to their own magick, zapping the creatures, but it didn’t help. Vines, serpents, insects and toads climbed up their bodies – pricking, biting, stinging.

Two girls started to cry. Sera shrieked like a banshee. Ames fell to the ground, screaming, ‘Get off! Get off!’ at the creatures. As for Tyra . . . she begged Emberlyn to make it stop.

Emberlyn snapped her hands closed, balling them into fists. Like that, the magick settled and the creatures disappeared.

The bullies nervously peeked around, only going quiet when they saw that the hill was clear. Ames awkwardly stood, his knees buckling.

Glaring at them, Emberlyn warned, ‘If there has to be a next time, I won’t make them disappear so fast . . . if at all.’

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Advertisement Legion (The Dark in You #11) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/legion-the-dark-in-you-11-read-online-suzanne-wright Tue, 05 Aug 2025 19:55:20 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/legion-the-dark-in-you-11-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Mafia, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: The Dark in You Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)

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The epic final instalment in the delicious DARK IN YOU series.

She calls to the demons inside him and there's no keeping them away . . .

Being a siren, Naomi has attracted attention all her life, but when working as a ghost artist, she can at least maintain some anonymity. She's never felt anything pull at her inner demon, until a certain crime boss locks eyes with her. He watches her like he's hunting her, and it's only a matter of time till he catches her . . .

Luka, leader of an underground demonic crime syndicate, is known for running a tight ship. He lives by a twisted code that can change by the minute. So, when danger threatens the women he loves, there's no stopping his inner demons. He's waited and bided his time, and now that he's finally got her, he'll do anything to keep her.

When foes creep up on them, Luka and Naomi will do whatever it takes to keep each other safe, even if it means unleashing the demons that live within them

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

Turning away from the canvas propped up against the breakroom wall, Tobe smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. “It’s amazing. Moody. Striking. An absolutely perfect replica. Take a fucking bow.”

Naomi Chamberlain felt her lips curve up. “I already did. Twice.” She shrugged at the three imps in front of her, adding, “I’m humble that way.”

Chugging down more of her coffee, she cast the landscape painting a quick look. The artist of the original was on the level of Monet and Picasso, but Naomi had always had a knack for re-creating any drawing or painting she laid eyes on—even as a child.

“No art appraiser would ever guess that this wasn’t an original,” Ciaran declared. “Not that any will ever see it. This is for a client’s personal collection.”

“I don’t know why he collects fakes,” said Lachlan, scratching at his salt-and-pepper hair. “Most people hire us to steal originals.”

“He has no genuine art in his collection, only fakes,” Tobe told the older imp. “He keeps it all in a vault in his basement.”

Alarm bells going off in her head, Naomi tipped it to the side. “And how would you know?”

Lachlan leaned into Tobe, his tall figure towering over him by a few inches. “Don’t answer that,” he muttered.

She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t break into it, did you?”

“Don’t answer that either,” Lachlan told him.

Tobe shot her a disbelieving look, managing to appear offended by her question. He folded his toned arms over his equally defined chest. “Do you honestly think that I’d consider breaking into not only the home but the vault of a human honest-to-God mobster?”

“Yep, totally,” she replied, under no illusions about him.

Tobe could be described as many things—including a thief, liar, card shark, embezzler, seller of counterfeit art, and master of breaking and entering . . . which didn’t make him much different from most imps in their lair.

“Tell me you at least didn’t steal anything from the guy,” she pressed.

Lachlan leaned into Tobe again. “Definitely don’t answer that.”

Naomi sighed, and her inner demon rolled its eyes. Honestly, having imps in your life could give anyone an ulcer. She was a siren like her mother, but most of their lair were imps. They tended to disregard all laws, not to mention their own safety. The latter particularly drove her crazy when it came to Tobe—as psi-mates, they were very close.

All their kind had a predestined psi-mate. An anchor in the storm that was a demon’s existence due to their struggle to maintain supremacy over their psychopathic inner entity. Forming a mental link with your anchor ended that struggle, though a person’s inner entity still surfaced as and when it pleased for what were usually brief pockets of time.

“Once the client coughs up the cash, I’ll get it to you,” Tobe said to her.

She nodded and took another mouthful of her coffee. As the aforementioned client was a repeat customer, she wasn’t worried that the deal would go bad—they’d always gone smoothly in the past.

“I’ll be doing the handover on the same day I take the abstract painting to that annoying harbinger who keeps pushing to meet his artist. Like you’re his own personal pet painter,” Tobe added, scraping an agitated hand through his deep-brown hair.

The harbinger was truly becoming a pain in the padded ass. “If he does it again, tell him I’m done and that he’ll need to find another painter.” Naomi preferred to remain anonymous. Stefan Brandt wasn’t the first client to request that she meet them face to face, but unlike him, the others had accepted her refusal with grace.

Imps came in handy if you needed to operate in the shadows. Take Tobe, for example. He acted as a middleman for people looking for commissioned art from ghost artists. Kind of like a ghost writer, Naomi produced and sold work that others could take personal credit for. Then there were clients who wanted replicas of classic pieces, or fake “lost paintings” by famous artists that then often ended up in art galleries and museums.

She also acted as hostess part-time here at her stepfather’s pizzeria. It meant people didn’t question how she made money, because she’d only trusted a few with the knowledge that she was a ghost artist.

Naomi wasn’t a fan of the spotlight. Being a siren, she was a sexual magnet of sorts, and had attracted attention all her life. So much whistling, ogling, staring, and heckling. She was constantly hit on, constantly oversexualized, constantly underestimated.

People outside her lair often assumed that she was dumb, superficial, and up for a good time. They didn’t expect her to have talents, or be a hard worker, or have any real substance. And there seemed to be this societal attitude that since she was beautiful, she had no right to complain about anything. It rankled with her inner entity something fierce.

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Advertisement The Monsters We Are (Devil’s Cradle #3) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-monsters-we-are-devils-cradle-3-read-online-suzanne-wright Sun, 02 Feb 2025 19:15:28 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-monsters-we-are-devils-cradle-3-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Witches Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125179 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >134

The Ancients and the Aeons. Two groups of powerful immortals on the brink of destruction, and at the heart of it all stands Wynter Dellavale.

Wynter is a witch who once sought sanctuary for herself and her coven in Devil's Cradle. Better known as 'the Home of Monsters', it was a place for outcasts and fugitives. She now wears the brand of Cain, the infamous Ancient, who has claimed her soul for all of eternity and doesn't plan on ever letting go.

Together, Wynter and Cain have prevailed over many powerful enemies, but now they face their final - and most terrifying - battle. As the last Aeon left standing, the all-powerful Adam is out for revenge. His terms: Cain and Wynter in exchange for peace. If Devil's Cradle won't deliver them, the full force of Adam's devastating rage will fall upon them all. As the stakes are raised, Cain and Wynter will do whatever it takes to defeat Adam and keep each other safe, even if it means unleashing the monsters that live within them .

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter One

“Ew, I just licked at the cotton candy sticking to my upper lip and got a taste of my face paint.” Anabel shuddered, sticking out her tongue. “Tastes like chalk.”

“Why did you choose to have your face painted in that stereotypical green witch style anyway?” Wynter Dellavale asked, eyeing her coven member curiously.

“Well, this is an ‘It’s almost Halloween’ party.”

“And you’re dressed in a blood-stained cheerleader’s outfit. The face paint doesn’t go with the look.”

“Yes, but everyone will now assume that the boils and hairy warts on my face are fake.”

Wynter felt her brow crease. “No, they still look real.” They wouldn’t be there at all if the blonde didn’t use herself as a trial subject when she created new potions. Some caused all kinds of aftereffects. Rashes. Hallucinations. Bad guts. Perhaps even the belief that you were the reincarnation of Bloody Mary . . . unless Anabel’s claim to be exactly that was in fact true. Her soul did have the ability to retain all her memories from her past lives, to be fair.

Wynter sighed. “If you’d just stop experimenting—”

“I know, I know,” said Anabel with a flap of her hand.

“And yet, you keep doing it.”

The blonde’s back straightened. “Excuse me, I’m not the only person here who has bad habits.”

Xavier’s brow knitted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Anabel sniffed at him. “It means you lie all the time for no real reason. Hattie is always asking random people embarrassing questions about sex. Delilah keeps cooking up self-proclaimed karma potions that will one day get her shanked. And Wynter keeps coming back to life every time she dies—part of being a revenant, yeah, but it’s still freaky. So, you know, I don’t think any of you should be throwing stones at my glass house.”

“I’m sensing you’re expecting us to be fair,” said Xavier. “Why?”

Anabel plucked at her skirt. “I guess I thought it would be a nice change.”

“You reached too high,” he told her, scratching at his head with a grimace. “Christ, could no one have warned me that the hair chalk makes your scalp itch like a mother?” His usual tousled brown hair had been slicked back and colored lime green to go with his outfit.

“You think chalk is bad, try wearing a veil,” grumbled Hattie. “I forgot how uncomfortable they are.”

“One would think, after the amount of times you’ve been a bride, that you would have remembered,” Delilah said to her. “But then, one would also think that you’d have chosen divorce over murder, even if you do insist on the first being a sin while the latter is somehow excusable.”

Hattie shrugged. “Divorce is too lengthy a process. It was quicker to just . . . help them pass on.”

Snorting, Wynter shook her head. The woman spoke like she’d arranged for her ex-husbands to die peacefully in their sleep but, yeah, it hadn’t quite played out that way. Which was why it was weirding Wynter and the others out that Hattie was dressed like a bride right now.

Wynter and her group hadn’t been a coven for very long, having only met for the first time when they’d been kidnapped by bounty hunters who she later killed. Well, to be more exact, it was the monster that lived inside her who was responsible for the deaths.

The position of Priestess hadn’t been something Wynter ever coveted. She’d resisted for a while, just as she’d resisted officially proclaiming them a coven—one that Delilah had named the Bloodrose Coven. But it had been a pointless resistance. Still, they were more of a family. A family with rather dysfunctional dynamics and a streak of crazy that couldn’t be tamed.

Hearing squeals, Wynter looked to see a mechanical hand zooming across the floor, scaring the dancers. She fingered her renaissance-style gothic gown as she glanced around. She had no idea whose idea it was to temporarily convert the warehouse into a cemetery-themed bar, but she saluted them. The dim lighting and dry ice machine made the place feel dark, chilly, and unwelcoming. Fake tombstones, dead flowers, hanging cobwebs, and open standing caskets revealing rubber skeletons added to the creepy factor.

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Advertisement Viper (The Dark in You #10) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/viper-the-dark-in-you-10-read-online-suzanne-wright Thu, 22 Aug 2024 20:05:27 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/viper-the-dark-in-you-10-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Funny, Magic, MC, Paranormal, Suspense Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: The Dark in You Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 131708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)

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The fantastic next instalment in the delicious DARK IN YOU series.
Their bond transcends lifetimes, but there’s nothing their enemies won’t do to keep them apart.

“You will be chained to him forever, and you cannot imagine what that will mean for you.”

Ella has been walking close to danger her whole life. As an incantor she uses her powers to protect innocents, often putting herself in harm’s way. But she’s never felt anything like the way her skin electrifies when a certain gang member – one rumoured to be a fallen archangel – locks eyes with her across a crowded bar. She can’t help but feel like maybe he’s been in her life before…
Viper, president of the Black Saints’ motorcycle club, carries heavy secrets. He has been searching for his mate across lifetimes. Now he’s finally got her in his sights he’ll do anything to keep her, even if that means destroying himself in the process. They took her from him once, he’s not going to let it happen again.
But as foes old and new close in, Ella and Viper’s bond will be pushed to the limit. Will their love endure, or will they reach breaking point?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

New Zealand, 1994

Breathing hard, Everleigh struggled against the sheer power pinning her hands to the wall behind her. She twisted. Pulled. Arched.

Nothing happened.

Similarly, her inner demon writhed and squirmed and fought to surface. It was trapped inside her, unable to be of any aid.

Feeling a flush of anger heat her face, Everleigh glared at the strangers fanned out in front of her. “What the fuck is this shit?”

One male took a step toward her—tall, lean, imposing, his hair so blond it was almost white. “There’s no need to panic. You need not fear us.”

Was he serious? “You kidnapped me.” She’d been in the middle of a wickedly hot kiss when … it was as if her senses had shut down. She’d been conscious, but she hadn’t been able to see, hear, smell, or feel a thing.

She’d been distantly aware that she was being moved. Taken. When her senses had rushed back to her, it could have been minutes or hours later. And she’d found herself here, in what appeared to be some kind of abandoned warehouse.

The only other people present were the six males who were evenly staring back at her, their eyes twin blue gems—striking eyes she’d only ever seen in one other person.

Everleigh swallowed. “Where is he?” She had the distinct feeling that they’d taken him, too.

“That isn’t important,” Blondie told her.

She felt her nostrils flare. “It is to me.”

“He is nowhere near here. We have plenty of privacy for what we’re about to do.”

Everleigh’s heart stuttered. “What does that mean? What have you done to him?” And why couldn’t she telepath anyone? Whenever she tried, she hit some kind of psychic wall.

“He is safe. Unconscious for the moment, but safe.”

Her instincts stirred. “You’re members of the Seven archangels.” Powerful beings who could, in fact, collectively do something as difficult as knock the seventh of their unit out cold. Few would manage such a feat.

A dark-haired, clean-shaven celestial inclined his head in confirmation. “Be assured that our intention isn’t to make you suffer. We will simply put you to sleep. That is all.”

Everleigh tensed, her heart banging against her ribcage. The word ‘sleep’ sounded so very final. “Why do I get the feeling that you don’t intend for me to wake up?”

“Your body will not wake up, but your soul will,” Mr. Clean-shaven told her. “Your life will start anew in another body, just as it has many times before.”

Her gut twisted. He’d said it like it was nothing. Like she’d merely be changing outfits. “In other words, you’re going to kill me. Let’s just call it what it is.” They could dress it up all they wanted, but it was murder.

“You could view it that way. We all see it as saving you both.”

She felt her face scrunch up. “From what?”

He observed her like she was clueless. “From what will become of him if he falls.”

“He has not told you?” Blondie pursed his lips. “He probably fears you would otherwise reject him. I doubt those fears are senseless, to be fair.”

“No one would care if you were just a toy to him,” cut in a dark-skinned, brawny male. “But you’ve become an obsession. He is prepared to fall from our realm to stay with you.”

Everleigh knew that much. She’d been shocked when he offered to fall—it wasn’t a small thing, and it meant leaving his life behind. She’d even objected at first, not wanting him to give up so much for her; not wanting him to suffer the consequences. But then he’d told her a little about his life, about how the darkness of it weighed heavily on him, and she could see how it was eating at his soul. So she’d ceased protesting—and no, it wasn’t at all a selfless decision. The fact was that she loved him and didn’t want to be without him.

He had wished to first say his goodbyes to these archangels he’d considered family. Falling meant leaving them behind. Going by their reaction, that had been a mistake.

“An archangel should never fall,” Brawny added. “One of the Seven? That cannot happen. If you knew what it would do to him, you would agree with us.”

She licked her lips. “I know about the curse. I know what he’d have to do to survive.”

“For one of the Seven, that is only the tip of the iceberg,” said Brawny sadly. “He would change. We cannot bear the thought of him becoming that. We care for him too much.”

“Care for him? You really see killing someone he loves as ‘caring’?” Everleigh ran her gaze along the line of archangels. “He spoke of you. Each of you. You’re all important to him. How shitty for him that it doesn’t go both ways.”

Mr. Clean-shaven’s brow pinched. “This is not a betrayal on our part. We look out for him as he does us. This is for his own good.”

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Advertisement When He Dares (The Olympus Pride #6) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/when-he-dares-the-olympus-pride-6-read-online-suzanne-wright Mon, 25 Mar 2024 04:51:07 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/when-he-dares-the-olympus-pride-6-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: The Olympus Pride Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 116662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 583(@200wpm)___ 467(@250wpm)___ 389(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >122

Get painfully rejected by true mate. Check.
Join a website for shifters seeking an arranged mating. Check.
Schedule a meeting with a prospective match. Check.

Quinley Bevan doesn’t expect to get smacked in the face by intense sexual chemistry during the meeting, but Isaiah Hale—dark, masculine, rugged—sets off all her hormonal fireworks. More, as a dominant shifter, the enforcer pulls at her submissive nature and calls to her inner cat. Both his power and stabilizing strength are plain drugging.

Their agreement is pretty standard: If they don’t imprint on each other within two years, they’ll dissolve the mating. But with his cat holding back, danger lurking around corners, and her true mate making a reappearance, things might be more complicated than they bargained for.

When he first joined Find Your Match . com, Isaiah wasn’t confident he’d be paired with someone who truly fit him. But he feels a kinship with Quinley. The healer stirs up his protective instincts and ticks his every box. He always envisioned that he’d mate a fellow dominant, but this submissive healer pulls him in like no other.
Still, he doesn’t expect to feel possessive of her so fast—she’s a relative stranger. But as soon as he puts the claiming brand on her neck, everything in him screams Mine.

His cat, though, doesn’t view her as its mate. The animal is still angry at being unable to have the female it was predestined to claim. But when Quinley’s own fated mate comes sniffing around and she becomes a target of their enemies, the cat is finally in agreement with Isaiah on one vital thing: Quinley belongs to them now, and they’ll never let her go.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

Quinley, aged sixteen

There he is.

Her pulse racing with nerves, Quinley slipped out of the shadows at the side of the guest lodge. Zaire’s step faltered at the sight of her, and his brows briefly knitted. It sucked that her own mate looked at her with zero recognition despite her having been in his periphery for years.

Her Alpha male Harlan was close friends with Zaire’s father, Rodrick—an Alpha of another pride. Whenever Rodrick came to visit, he often brought his son along. And so Zaire had become friends with Harlan’s children.

Quinley’s pride was huge, as was its territory. The more important you were to the Alphas, the further inland you were situated. Her family was unranked and lived near the border, so she didn’t move in the same social circles as the children of her Alpha pair, unlike Zaire. As such, she’d never had cause to officially meet him.

It was only two years ago, when he’d saved her from a tricky situation, that she’d been up close to him for the first time. As she’d looked directly into his eyes and taken his scent into her lungs, something deep and primitive had stirred inside both Quinley and her inner cat. They’d felt that he was theirs. When all he’d gifted her with was a blank, disinterested look, her stomach had roiled.

He doesn’t sense it, she’d thought back then. It had been clear that something was jamming the frequency of the true-mate bond on his end.

She’d raced back home and told her sisters what had happened. They’d advised her not to approach him about it, saying it was best to give him time to sense the truth for himself. So Quinley had done exactly that, trusting that he’d eventually come to realize they were predestined mates.

But … he so far hadn’t. Which was a special brand of torture. And after what she’d heard tonight, she couldn’t stay silent any longer. She’d otherwise risk losing him for good.

Zaire gave her a severe glare. “You shouldn’t be here.” It was spoken with the authority of someone who actually ruled her pride.

Bold.

“I wanted to talk to you.” She cleared her throat. “I’m Quinley, by the way.”

He didn’t react whatsoever. It was obvious that her name meant nothing to him and didn’t poke at his memories. Sweet.

“You once intervened when I was surrounded by a group of my peers,” she reminded him. Again, zero recognition. “In the woods,” she added, but the words garnered no reaction. “Like, two years ago.”

He continued to stare at her blankly.

Disappointment flooded her, but she flicked a blasé hand. “You don’t remember. It’s fine.” Lie.

He sighed. “What do you want?”

She blinked at his rude tone. Okay. It didn’t do much for her confidence, but she wasn’t going to make her excuses and leave. This was too important.

She pulled in a preparatory breath and drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t anything close to tall. She parted her lips to speak, but the words got trapped in her throat. Say it. Just say it. “We’re mates,” she blurted out.

He stiffened from head to toe, his expression going tight. Not good. But still, there was relief in having finally spoken those words aloud. She’d held them in for what felt like way too long.

Zaire scratched his nape, looking uncomfortable. “Fuck,” he muttered beneath his breath.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. I was waiting for you to sense it for yourself. But you haven’t, and then tonight I heard … I heard that you and Nazra plan to mate one day and run this pride together.” Panic had squeezed her lungs so tight she’d struggled to breathe.

He dropped his arm back to his side. “Look—”

“I know there’s a good chance my Alpha will make you sign a mating agreement even now. You can’t, Zaire.”

It wouldn’t matter that he might not claim Nazra for many years to come. If he put his signature on those papers, it would be hard for him to back out without causing major insult to her Alphas—and it would break something in Quinley.

“You can’t sign yourself away like that,” she pressed. “I’m the one you’re supposed to claim.”

He pulled a face. “This is—”

“I’m no daughter of an Alpha, I’m not dominant, and my family as a whole is unranked, so mating me will get you nothing—I know that. But we’re fated, Zaire. That has to count for something.”

“It would. If we were. But we’re not.”

Her inner cat flinched, her shoulders hunching. “We are,” Quinley insisted, ignoring the pain that had lanced through her chest, cold and razor sharp.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Kid, I don’t want to upset—”

“I’m not a kid,” she bit off.

“You’re, like, thirteen or fourteen.”

His condescension was a slap. “I’m sixteen, two years younger than you. And I am right about this.”

Disbelief plastered over his face, he shook his head fast. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

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Advertisement The Nightmare in Him (Devil’s Cradle #2) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-nightmare-in-him-devils-cradle-2-read-online-suzanne-wright Thu, 08 Feb 2024 08:24:41 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-nightmare-in-him-devils-cradle-2-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Vampires Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 121324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 607(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >129

The Ancients and the Aeons. Two groups of powerful immortals that have not seen eye to eye for millennia. And right now, at the heart of their conflict, stands Wynter Dellavale.

Wynter is a witch who sought safe haven for herself and her coven in Devil's Cradle. Founded by seven Ancient beings, the Home of Monsters provides protection, shelter, and will never give you up to outsiders . . . providing you pay the Ancients' substantial fee. Wynter already wears the brand of Cain - the mark that she is in his service and that her soul partly belongs to him. But as their relationship deepens, Wynter has to make a choice from which there's no turning back.

Cain cannot reveal the nightmare which lives inside him, the beast that could tear apart the woman who means more to him than he ever thought possible. But with his brother Abel out for revenge, and the suspicious reappearance of his parents Adam and Eve, Cain sees that Devil's Cradle is on the verge of war. As the stakes are raised, Cain knows he needs more than anything to keep Wynter safe and by his side - forever.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Walking along the plaza’s cobbled path, Wynter Dellavale cast a sideways glance at the pretty blonde beside her. “Relax, nothing bad is going to happen.”

“Famous last words,” Anabel muttered, tense as a bow. “I don’t know why you and Delilah couldn’t have made the shopping trip for me. You know how much I hate being up here on the surface.” Rubbing at her shoulder, she nervously glanced around as if someone might leap out of the evening shadows at any given moment. Just about everything made Anabel anxious. Even herself.

“It’s not good for you to never step foot out of the cottage,” said Wynter. “We’ve been over this already.”

“But I’m safe at home.”

“You’re safe out here, too.”

Anabel’s brows snapped together. “Where death lurks around every corner? Puhlease.”

Wynter rolled her eyes. The problem with Anabel was that her soul remembered each of her past lives and, therefore, each of her past deaths—all of which were allegedly violent. The blonde had never lived past the age of thirty and didn’t expect to do so in this lifetime either. Hence the paranoia.

If left to her own devices, Anabel would remain in either her bedroom or their kitchen while brewing potions. She would also use herself as a test subject while creating new concoctions if unsupervised. That tended to have after-effects, both short-term and long-term . . . which might or might not account for why the woman believed she was the reincarnation of Bloody Mary. Wynter couldn’t be sure.

“You know—and this is just a suggestion—maybe you don’t have to be so insistent that death has our coven in its sights,” said Wynter.

Anabel gave her wide eyes. “I’m telling you, its ice-cold breath is fanning my neck as we speak. Don’t give me that look. People try to kill us, like, all the time.”

“Fugitives generally have that problem,” Wynter pointed out.

She and Anabel had first met after being kidnapped by the same bounty hunters that also snatched the rest of their coven. Wynter hadn’t expected the captives to stay with her after she helped them escape. Nor had she thought that they’d propose they form a coven—one Delilah had named the Bloodrose Coven. They had elected Wynter as their Priestess, ignoring her objections, and she’d eventually decided to just go with it.

Anabel snorted. “The prices on our heads are the least of our problems now that we’re caught in the middle of a long-standing war between the Ancients and the Aeons.”

That was true. There was a lot of beef between the two camps of immortals. Millennia-old beef, in fact. All part of the first civilization, they’d once resided together in the town of Aeon. A war broke out back then, and seven survivors of the losing side were permitted to live but dumped here. Which sounded merciful, but there was far more to it than that. And it wasn’t good.

“But hey, of course you’re not worried for your life,” said Anabel with a little huff. “Why would you be? You can’t die. Me, though? I can.”

Wynter felt a frown tug at her brow. “I die. I just . . . come back.”

Few things could permanently kill a revenant—something she’d become when a deity had come to a dying ten-year-old Wynter and offered to send a monster after the boys who’d attacked her.

Kali occasionally made such offers if She felt that a witch’s death was an injustice. When She made Her offer to Wynter, the deity hadn’t specified that Wynter would return to life and be a vessel for that monster. One that wreaked vengeance like a master.

“Well, the rest of us don’t come back,” said Anabel. “And I’d appreciate it if you remember that the next time you think of putting me in the path of danger like this.”

Wynter crossed her eyes. “Enough of the dramatics. You’re fine. I’m fine.”

“For now. That can change in an instant, my friend.”

Wynter metaphorically threw up her arms. Really, she knew better than to waste her time trying to get Anabel to think past her mistrust of the world. It was too ingrained in her at this point.

In truth, Wynter didn’t have a whole lot of room to judge. She might not be a ball of paranoia, but she was just as hypervigilant—hence why she once more scanned their surroundings.

Smack bang in the middle of nowhere, Devil’s Cradle was framed by lakes, woods, and steep mountains. Taking in the many houses of varying colors, shapes, and sizes, she was again struck by how the town somehow resembled both a coastal village and a military compound. There were bars, restaurants, and plenty of stores within and around the plaza. Pastureland, warehouses, and utility structures lay beyond.

Wynter had grown very fond of the primal, untamed landscape that surrounded them. She liked looking at the hills and crooks and tall, multi-colored rock spires. The badlands possessed a haunting beauty that outweighed the lush, colorful, picture-perfect land of Aeon. She’d spent most of her years there along with her old coven. Until they’d gone and ostracized her, the pricks.

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Advertisement The Pact Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-pact-read-online-suzanne-wright Mon, 16 Oct 2023 19:45:08 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/the-pact-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Erotic Authors: Suzanne Wright Advertisement

Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)

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She should say no. Addison Davenport figures that most people likely would. But after having her life plans repeatedly derailed, she’s come to wonder if her chance at marriage and kids ended with the death of her college boyfriend. So when business powerhouse Daxton “Dax” Mercier—a man who’s suffered a similar loss, a man who’s her first in every way—asks her to honor the fallback marriage pact they made years ago, she doesn’t reject it out of hand.
Their partnership would be no more than a business transaction, but what’s the point in holding out for love when it had granted her no guarantees in the past?
Maybe they could make a marriage work. Maybe. One thing is for certain: with the wounds of loss heavy on their souls and the fact that he’s given up on finding the big L again, friendship would be all they’d have.
Love would never enter their picture. Ever. Not even for a moment.
Right?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

This was probably what would be called a soap opera moment. I mean, I was standing in a ladies restroom … wearing a bridal gown … being smirked at by a woman who coveted my husband … while my ex-boyfriend and the local sheriff argued a few feet away.

Not that weirder things hadn’t happened in my life. Particularly in the past year. After all, it wasn’t every day that you legally bound yourself to an ex-lover as part of a fallback marriage pact.

I looked at Mimi. “We’ll talk again soon.” I waved my hand at the door.

Still smirking, the brunette folded her arms and gave a little head flick that made her chin-length layers dance around her face. “I’d prefer to stay. This looks like it might be fun.”

God, I needed to cut that bitch up at some point.

For now, I switched my attention back to the two men who were deep in an argument. A deputy sheriff looked on, seeming intent on not getting involved—well, most cops swerved getting on my husband’s bad side, and this little scene would sure piss him off.

“I’m only here to ask her some questions, Grayden,” the sheriff insisted, his large fists perched on his stout hips. “She doesn’t need a lawyer present. And if she did, you wouldn’t be able to act as one for her—it would be a conflict of interests, given your past history.”

“I’m not leaving, Lowe,” Grayden asserted, a stubborn upward tilt to his chin as he drew himself up to his full height, placing him a few inches over the sheriff.

Exasperation rippled across Lowe’s jowly face. “Has it occurred to you that she might not want you here? I have to say, taking into account the way everything played out between you two, I wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.”

An emotion flickered in Grayden’s hazel eyes too fast for me to process it. “If you’re trying to manipulate Addison into demanding I leave, it won’t work. She knows better than to talk without legal representation present.”

“As I said before, she doesn’t need it—I just mean to ask her a few questions.”

“Go ahead,” Grayden invited, his tone as smooth as the short brown hair he’d slicked back. “But I’ll be right here while you do.”

Lowe’s gaze narrowed. “How do you think my niece will feel when she hears you rallied to the defense of a woman she hates? Do Felicity’s feelings matter to you at all?”

“You won’t guilt-trip me into walking out of here.”

“You turned your back on Addison once before. What’s the difference?”

Oh, low blow. Accurate, though. Once, it would have stung to be reminded that Grayden had broken every promise he’d made to me when he’d scuttled back to his ex-wife. But now? Now I could think of him and feel nothing—no regret, no sadness, no anger.

Lowe sniffed. “Who is it you’re really protecting, I wonder? Her, or Dax Mercier? Are you worried she’ll spill something about your old buddy that will put him in prison where he belongs?”

Grayden’s eyes flicked to the manilla file the sheriff held. “You don’t know that Dax has anything to do with that.”

“It has his name written all over it.” Lowe turned back and pulled something out of the file. A photograph, I realized, as he held it up.

Damn. The dude in that picture had taken one fuck of a beating.

“Tell me, Mrs. Mercier, how would you feel if someone had done that to one of your loved ones?” asked Lowe. “How do you think his family feels? Do you really believe your husband should be allowed to get away with that?”

What I believed was that the guy had brought this on himself.

“Did the victim finger Dax as the culprit?” Grayden interrupted.

Lowe’s face tightened. “No.” He dropped his arm to his side. “He claims he remembers nothing. But it’s fear keeping him silent.” Lowe tilted his head at me. “Is that what’s keeping you silent? Or do you just not care?”

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Advertisement Hunted (The Dark in You #9) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/hunted-the-dark-in-you-9-read-online-suzanne-wright Sun, 09 Jul 2023 00:33:36 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/hunted-the-dark-in-you-9-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: The Dark in You Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 638(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >134

Larkin is tired of her friends constantly trying to play Cupid. Just because they are all happily mated doesn't mean she needs to be. And she definitely doesn't need the over-protective men in her life vetting potential partners for her. In a bid to get them off her back, the harpy turns to the one person she knows they would never approve of . . .

Teague Sullivan. Explicitly sexy and unquestionably alpha male, the mysterious hellhound is the perfect candidate for a fake relationship. More than happy to spend time with the pretty harpy, Teague agrees. But when a wager is made between them, and things start to heat up, Larkin can't seem to ignore their explosive chemistry- and neither can her demon.

But when old and new dangers creep up on them, and Teague's shady past starts to ring alarm bells; he must decide whether to trust Larkin completely or risk losing her forever.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

From her seat on the balcony, Larkin Yates heard a voice inside the VIP box screaming in delight, “It won! It won!”

Well, of course the hellhorse won. It always did.

Teague Sullivan’s steed was not only undefeated but considered to be the fastest of its kind. At the moment, it was also proudly holding its head high, exposing its elegantly arched neck. One of the racing stadium’s high-powered floodlights beamed down directly on the stallion, showing the steam wafting from its coat. A metallic black, the aforementioned coat was positively stunning and currently gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat.

Cheers rang out from the many spectators, particularly those that filled the tiered grandstand and stood behind the track’s perimeter fence. Few demons bet against Teague’s hellhorse, so there were rarely many boos.

Despite her foul mood, which was thanks to the annoying machinations of her friends and honorary brothers, Larkin found herself smiling when the stallion arrogantly tossed its long, lush, dark mane as it trotted off the track, swishing its high-carried tail.

There was something so very regal about hellhorses. They moved with grace and poise on those long, powerful legs, their sleek muscles rippling and flexing. They could honestly steal a person’s breath with how beautiful they were.

They could also scare the living shit out of a person. And not simply due to their all-black, wide-set eyes. Hellhorses were as predatory, conscienceless, and unforgiving as all demonic entities. Psychotic, too—as evidenced by their willingness to partake in this sadistic sport.

Hellhorse race tracks were full of nasty surprises, such as pits of bubbling lava or sharp spikes. The hurdles were high, wide, and dangerous to any who didn’t jump them just right. As such, a lot of pain was involved, and injuries were often severe.

So. Yeah. These entities were crazy.

Not that Larkin could judge. Her issue-riddled inner demon was all-out nuts.

Though hellhorses tended to suffer many wounds during races, few died. That was the thing about this most resilient breed of demon. They were quick to heal and hard to kill. Like really hard. She was quite sure they’d survive an apocalypse easily while every other living creature perished.

Breathing in the scents of dirt, horses, and concession food, she watched as the stadium’s staff members walked around the track, putting obstacles to rights and kicking clumps of fake grass back into place. All the while, she ignored the thread of delicious anticipation worming its way through her blood; she point-blank refused to acknowledge its source.

Gambling on hellhorse racing was just one of the many ways that demons could spend their time here in the Underground—a subterranean demonic playground located beneath Las Vegas. You could shop. Eat. Drink. Dance. Hit casinos. Watch shows. Partake in competitions. Stay at fancy hotels. Enjoy the fairground. The list went on and on.

And on.

As one of her lair’s four sentinels, she didn’t have as much spare time as the average demon. But she spent much of it in the Underground these days. Mostly to escape the irritating crap going on that was centered on her.

Hearing the glass door behind her slide open, Larkin felt her muscles tense. She had hoped to be left alone, and the people within the VIP box knew that well.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Piper striding toward her. Immediately, Larkin relaxed. The pretty dark-haired nightmare was one of only two people who weren’t on her shit list.

Piper gave her a soft smile, took the seat beside her, and held out a can of soda. “Here.”

Larkin tried returning the smile, but it was more like a grimace. “Thanks.” She took the can and flicked open the ring tab, hearing the liquid inside fizz slightly.

“I know they’re getting on your last nerve,” began Piper, “but they mean well.”

Larkin looked at her askance. “Did they push you to come out here and convince me to go talk to them?”

“No one pushes me to do anything.” Piper’s nose wrinkled. “Actually, correction: Levi tries it. I’m waiting for him to realize that it doesn’t actually work and never will. But we’ve been mates for nine months now and he hasn’t yet caught on.”

Larkin felt the side of her mouth kick up. Levi was one of her four honorary brothers. Like Tanner and Keenan, he was also a fellow sentinel while Knox was Prime of their lair. Each of the four males were all alpha . . . which had to suck for their mates at times, in Larkin’s opinion.

Take Levi, for example. He was not only Piper’s mate but her predestined anchor. Being extremely dominant and overprotective, the reaper did his best to maneuver the female tattooist and cover her in bubble wrap. Luckily for him, Piper found it cute rather than frustrating.

Every demon had an anchor—or psi-mate if you wanted to be more specific. It wasn’t an emotional pairing, merely a psychic one, though some demons did enter into relationships with their anchors. Whatever the case, they were extremely loyal to and protective of each other; deeply enmeshed themselves in one another’s lives.

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Advertisement When He’s Torn (The Olympus Pride #5) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/when-hes-torn-the-olympus-pride-5-read-online-suzanne-wright Thu, 30 Mar 2023 14:03:30 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/when-hes-torn-the-olympus-pride-5-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: The Olympus Pride Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >133

It has been said that Bailey Bryant lives with her middle finger up in the air. She can agree with that. But there’s one thing she fails to be breezy about: her unrelenting attraction to fellow enforcer Deke Hammond. Broad, inked, and ruggedly masculine, the grumpy cat shifter could attract a stone. He’s also currently riddled with touch-hunger and much crankier than usual. So she should probably stop poking at him for fun—he already despises her. Or so she thinks … until one of their regular disputes leads to an explosive kiss and an exchange of truths. That lip-lock creates a major issue—she now wants more. And there seems only one thing for it: She’ll have to kiss him again.
Deke is a man of logic. He doesn’t like what he doesn’t understand. And he cannot explain why Bailey compels him like no one else. Constantly teasing and provoking him, the snake shifter drives him nuts. Daily. On purpose. She takes nothing seriously—him included. Yet, he’s often come close to ravishing her mouth. When touch-hunger comes calling, he loses the strength and will to fight his attraction to her. The more time he spends with Bailey, the more he realizes he’s made many incorrect assumptions about her. There’s much he doesn’t know. Much to admire and respect. Much he truly likes. Likes a whole lot, in fact. And there seems only one thing for it: He’ll have to just keep her.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

CHAPTER ONE

“You need to get rid of them.”

Pausing with her spoon hovering above her cake, Bailey frowned at the brunette sitting opposite her. “What? Why?”

“They’re freaking out the rest of the pride.”

“How? It’s not like they’re bothering anybody.”

Havana shot her an impatient look. “Absolutely anyone would be bothered that snakes are nesting in their building.”

“They’re not nesting … as such,” fudged Bailey, holding her paper bowl closer to her chest. “They just want some company, so they come sleep at my apartment now and then.” She paused as a gaggle of squealing kids ran by, dragging party streamers through the air. “Is that so terrible?”

“Yes,” Havana insisted, plucking a spring roll from the paper plate on the table in front of her. “Because they go slithering through air vents and pay visits to the other residents.”

“They’re just being neighborly.”

“Bailey.”

Right then, the DJ on the stage spoke into the mic, and the song changed into something even more upbeat. Whistles of approval went up, and then more asses left seats as the number of dancers increased.

Pride events were often held here at the Tavern, their pride-owned local hangout. This evening, they were celebrating the sixtieth birthday of one of their submissives, Clarence. He seemed to be having an absolute blast—if he wasn’t dancing to the blaring music, he was singing on the karaoke. The songs were mostly hits from the 70s and 80s.

Slicing her plastic spoon into her cake, Bailey scooped up a chunk and shoveled it into her mouth. The tastes of frosting, jam, cream, and moist sponge burst on her tongue. Chewing, she glanced around to see that most of the partygoers who were not on the dancefloor had congregated into small groups that either sat at tables, stood around talking, or even played pool. Most of the kids had fled to the arcade area, but some were dashing around the place like their asses were on fire.

Bailey’s inner serpent wasn’t keen on all the noise. But though the venue was super loud, it was loud in a happy way. There was lots of laughter and singing and light-hearted chatter.

As always, the omegas had gone all out when it came to the decorations. Birthday banners were pinned above the bar and stage. String lights and lanterns hung on the brick walls, skirting the sports paraphernalia and widescreen TVs. A white and blue balloon arch was positioned near the buffet table. More white and blue balloons were tied to pretty weights and set on tables, along with confetti and LED candles.

One of the burgundy-cushioned booths was all but overflowing with various sized gifts covered in glossy wrapping paper. There was also a stack of envelopes and several gift bags.

“I’m serious, Bailey.” Havana bit into her spring roll. “I need you to get on top of the situation.”

“I can’t help it that full-blooded snakes are drawn to me. They’re drawn to all snake shifters.”

“I know that. But I also know that they’ll heed your mamba if she puts on a dominance display to scare them off. Have her get rid of them.”

“She doesn’t want to. They’re her friends.”

Havana fired an incredulous look Bailey’s way. “Her friends?”

“And they haven’t bitten anyone.” At least not yet.

“But they might, mightn’t they?”

Probably. “Of course not.”

Havana snorted, flicking her maple-brown hair over her shoulder. “Well, forgive me if I’m not confident of that. No, don’t argue, they need to go.”

“I can’t believe you want to isolate my snake from others.” Bailey sank her plastic spoon into her slice of cake extra hard. “Don’t you care that she gets lonely?”

Havana crossed her almond-shaped bluish-gray eyes and then bit into her spring roll again. “She does not get lonely. She prefers her own company. The only reason she likes being around others is that she finds humor in stirring the pot. As do you.”

So true.

“Your mamba urged them to take a hike last time. What’s the difference?”

“You were my roommate back then, and my snake is protective of you.” The devil shifter was not only Bailey’s Alpha female but her honorary sister. “I live alone now.”

“If you discount the numerous snakes nesting in your apartment, yes, you do.”

“I told you, they’re not nesting.” Per se.

Havana gave an impatient shake of the head. “Just get rid of them.”

“Fine. But my mamba is not happy about this.” Bailey scooped up more cake with her spoon and then shoved it into her mouth. “And I’m honestly pretty surprised that the pride went whining to you about it. The majority of them are pallas cats. Those things fear nothing.”

‘Undauntable’ was one of many descriptors that could be given to pallas cat shifters. They were as brash and bad-tempered as they were disturbingly vicious. The latter particularly applied to their inner animals.

The small, adorable fluffballs were pound for pound one of the strongest of the shifter breeds. More, they were so downright batshit they would attack with a feral, unchecked, demonic fury even if their enemies were stronger, bigger, and outnumbered them. Pallas cats either didn’t or couldn’t muster any fucks to give, which she could respect.

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Advertisement The Wicked in Me (Devil’s Cradle #1) Read Online Suzanne Wright http://www.books2020.com/the-wicked-in-me-devils-cradle-1-read-online-suzanne-wright Sun, 15 Jan 2023 19:18:33 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-wicked-in-me-devils-cradle-1-read-online-suzanne-wright Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Authors: Suzanne Wright Series: Devil's Cradle Series by Suzanne Wright
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Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 125083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >132

No one really knows what they are. Only that they're the first civilization. Aeons, they call themselves. They're immortal. Powerful. Secretive.

And they'll come for her.

Witch Wynter Dellavale knows that for certain. Because in unfairly trying to execute her, they started a chain of events they're struggling to stop.

Needing safety, she flees to Devil's Cradle, the home of monsters. A place for the outcasts, the fugitives, the crazies. A place ruled by the Ancients, seven beings who were once banished by the Aeons. Among the Ancients is the infamous Cain, brother of Abel and embodiment of jealousy — who, on another note, wants her in his bed.

There’s a heavy price for the safety the Ancients offer, but Wynter will have to pay it. She can't take on the Aeons alone. And she has no intention of dying — been there, done that.

Not that she'll be the easy prey the Aeons are expecting. They have no knowledge of the ... thing that lives inside her. You see, when witches are brought back from the afterlife, they don't always come back the same.

And they don't always come back alone.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

For J, thank you for listening to all my ramblings when I’m

having my mind-mapping buzz sessions out loud

Adopting a stone-cold poker face, Wynter Dellavale struggled to process the disbelief that crawled over her skin. When she’d opened the door to find her Priestess on the doorstep while their coven lingered at the front gate, she’d thought maybe Esther was calling on her to join them all for a late-night ritual or something. But this … no, it couldn’t actually be happening. Nu-uh.

Planting her feet, Wynter folded her arms. “This is some kind of messed-up joke, right? Like, you know, humor but sort of … not?”

“This isn’t something I would ever joke about.” Esther clasped her hands in front of her, the image of elegance. “We have no choice. A new coven will be selected by one of the ruling Aeons in three days’ time. There is no chance of it being us if we have a weak link. For us, you are that.”

Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. Wynter felt a cold smile slowly curve one side of her mouth.

The Priestess tensed. Well, Wynter wasn’t exactly known for being a placid, sweet, touchy-feely person. More of a bitey-scratchy girl, really. Her mother used to joke that Wynter came out of the womb flipping the finger and snarling at anyone who dared cuddle her.

“I can be described as a lot of things, but not weak,” said Wynter.

“In terms of power, no. But having a witch whose magick has been tainted … that is a weakness in the coven.”

Tainted. She hated that word. People had been tossing it at her for most of her life. “Wasn’t it you who always told me to rise above my limitations and make them work for me? That they’d only be an obstacle if I allowed it?” The woman’s advice had often carried a condescending note, but still.

“Yes, I believe in not permitting obstacles to block our path. And that is what you are, Wynter. An obstacle to this coven’s future prospects. You would have been forced to leave when you turned sixteen if our prior Priestess had not been your grandmother. Agnes could never bring herself to cast you out, but I must. When we moved to this town eighteen years ago, we did it for one reason only—we hoped to eventually serve the Aeons directly. If that means snipping off any weaknesses, so be it.”

The pitiless words were as sharp and cutting as any scalpel. Personally, Wynter didn’t see what would be so amazing about living among the primordial beings in the underground utopia beneath the picturesque town of Aeon. Oh sure, you’d be privy to their secrets and, given they were the first civilization—yeah, as in Adam and Eve—they no doubt had a whole lot of interesting knowledge to pass on. It was considered an honor to serve them, just as it was considered an honor to be chosen to descend to their subterranean city.

There were a few things Wynter wasn’t so comfortable with, though. Like how only the residents of said city were able to go down there and weren’t allowed to speak of it to those who lived in the town. Like how the Aeons demanded the respect and devotion that was worthy of deities.

Though they possessed a godly arrogance, they weren’t deities at all. They also weren’t human. Referred to as Aeons merely due to being long-term natives of this place, they were incredibly secretive immortals who wielded impressive power.

“This is not merely my wish,” Esther added. “I speak for the majority.”

Wynter scanned the swarm of coven members near the gate. Rafe, the mentor she had to thank for all the training she’d received over the years, was notably absent. As for the others … many averted their eyes or shifted uncomfortably. Others raised their chin or sniffed. And it was clear that none were going to speak up for her.

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