Louise Lou Silvercrest

Jack Frost Will Claim You Tonight

The temperature drops before he even speaks your name. Jackson Frost is the kind of man who makes headlines without trying — billionaire, recluse, untouchable. What the world does not know is that he is older than the city he owns, that the frost on the boardroom windows is not the building's failing HVAC, and that he has spent three hundred years feeling absolutely nothing. Until tonight. Until you. The moment you stepped into his orbit, his carefully maintained control began to crack. Ice blooms along the edge of his glass. His gloves stay on. His silver eyes do not leave you for a single second. He has claimed empires, silenced rivals, and bent the natural world to his will — but you are the one thing he cannot simply take. You have to choose him. And he is not above engineering every circumstance until you do. The question is not whether he wants you. The question is how long you can pretend the cold does not feel like home.

Claimed: The Dragon's Stolen Succubus

You woke up with someone else's fire burned into your skin. No name. No past. No idea what you are beyond the faint ache of wings you cannot summon and a hunger you do not understand. The only constant is him — Kael Draveth, dragon shifter, self-appointed keeper of everything rare and irreplaceable. He says he found you at the edge of his territory, half-dead and unclaimed. He says the tattoos were necessary. He says a lot of things in that low, certain voice, and the worst part is that some corner of your hollow chest believes him. His mountain stronghold is full of treasures he has collected over centuries. Now you are one of them. The claim marks on your wrist pulse warm every time he enters the room, and you have stopped pretending that is only the magic talking. Somewhere out there is a life you cannot remember. Somewhere in here is a dragon who will burn the world before he lets you walk out that door. The question is not whether you can escape. The question is whether you still want to.

The Witch Won't Let Go

The last autumn festival ended at midnight, the bonfires stamped out, the crowds gone home — but you never made it home. You woke inside Ashveil Estate with a silver mark burned into your wrist and a woman standing at the foot of the bed who looks at you like you are something she has been waiting centuries to reclaim. The wards on every door confirm it: this is not a kidnapping, she insists — this is a homecoming. You have 72 hours to decide whether she is delusional, dangerous, or telling the truth about what you are.

Ethan Cole: The Man I Hacked Into Loving

You hacked his life to disappear into the background — now he is typing directly to you. It started as a job. Ethan Cole: low-risk target, clean network, easy access. Six weeks later you have memorized the way he hums while he works, the exact moment he stops pretending he is fine, and the voice memo he recorded last Thursday that said — 'I think I am being watched. I think I do not mind.' You have crossed every line a hacker is never supposed to cross. You have started to care. And tonight, with his cursor blinking in the dark and those four words sitting on his screen — 'I know someone is there' — the distance you built to keep yourself safe has just collapsed into nothing. He is not calling the authorities. He is waiting. For you.

She Broke the Hex to Claim You

Someone has been inside your life for months — and she is the one who put herself there. Morgaine Voss does not look like a threat. She looks like a woman who arrived at your door in the rain with a folder full of evidence and eyes that already know your middle name. She was hired to hex your life apart from the inside — map your vulnerabilities, feed the data upstream, let the contractor do the rest. She did the job. She did it well. And then somewhere between your 3 a.m. insomnia and the way you talk to strangers like they matter, she stopped sending reports. Now the contractor knows. Now there is a target on both of you. And Morgaine — the woman who was your shadow, your silent enemy, your uninvited witness — is the only one standing between you and whatever comes next. She has not told you what she did yet. She is not sure she can. But she is not leaving.

Dante Mori: He'll Burn the World for You

It was supposed to be a contract — your name, his protection, zero feelings. Dante Mori does not do feelings. He does leverage, strategy, and body counts. When his lawyer slid the marriage contract across the table, the terms were surgical: you play the role, he keeps you safe, no lines get crossed. You told yourself you could handle a man like him — cold, controlled, untouchable. Then Cruz's men took you off the street, and Dante put a bullet through his own boardroom table. Now he is coming. Not because the contract demands it. Not because his reputation requires it. He is coming because somewhere between the paperwork and the silence and the way you looked at him like you were not afraid — the deal changed. He just has not said it out loud yet. And when Dante Mori finally says a thing out loud, cities tend to burn.

Ethan's Return: He Never Forgot You

He pulled you out of the snow when no one else stopped to look. Ethan Calloway was seventeen and already too serious for his age the night he found you — small, frozen, and utterly alone — behind the rail yard on the worst night of that winter. He did not ask questions. He just carried you. For years after, he was the one constant in a life that had given you nothing but uncertainty: the boy next door who checked on you before school, who sat with you through the bad nights, who made you feel, for the first time, like you were worth something to someone. Then the military took him. Six years of short letters, long silences, and a hollow space in your chest you learned to call normal. Now he is standing at the end of your street with a duffel bag and that same unreadable expression — older, broader, a scar along his jaw that was not there before. He has not called. He has not texted. He just came. And the way he is looking at you makes it very clear that whatever he has been carrying across six years and two continents, he brought all of it home.