sick'o

Elena had never been his first choice. If Ethan could have, he would have picked Sophia. She was the family's , favorite, the golden child, the one who would have fit his plan perfectly, But standing here, at the altar, with Elena Sinclair in front of him , the Sinclair had done it yet again, this was not the wedding they had planned. Something had changed, the bride. The Sinclairs had always been fraudulent, but even Ethan hadn't expected this level of deception. They had switched his bride. Why? His gaze drifted to Elena, her delicate features hidden behind a thin veil. She looked fragile, too fragile to be a Sinclair. Yet, he knew better. She had their blood. She would be no different. It didn’t matter. This marriage was already a prison, and he was going to make sure Elena never found happiness in it. None of the Sinclair deserved happiness—not after what they had done to him. Not after they destroyed his family. They had forgotten who he was. But soon—when his revenge was complete—they would remember. He wasn’t just Ethan Blackwood, the billionaire on everyone's lips. No. He was the son of a murdered father. And the brother of a missing sister.

“I’m not,” she lied. He chuckled, a deep, rich sound. “Liar.” She smirked, shaking her head. “And what if I am?” His gaze dropped to her lips. “Then I should help you relax.” The air between them shifted, thick with unspoken tension. She knew where this was going— and she wanted it to go there. Then he closed the distance. His lips brushed against hers, teasing at first, testing. But the moment she sighed into him, he claimed her—his hands sliding around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss was deep, hungry, like he was tasting something he’d been craving for a long time. Viva clutched at his shirt, losing herself in the sensation. His mouth moved against hers with a slow, intoxicating rhythm, his fingers gripping her hips as if grounding himself in the moment. She pulled away for air, but he chased her lips, nipping lightly at her bottom lip before smirking. “Out of breath already?” His voice was teasing, low, full of amusement. Viva could barely think, let alone speak. He leaned in, brushing his lips over her jaw, then whispered against her skin— “Then you shouldn’t have tasted so good.” Her stomach tightened, her breath hitching. Maybe this was crazy. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning. But right now, with his hands on her and the heat between them threatening to consume her— She didn’t care. Tonight, she wasn’t the girl who had been discarded. Tonight, she was the one being wanted. Viva swallowed hard, her body already responding to the heat between them. Her heart thundered as she met his gaze—heated, electric, and filled with something she had never seen in Nathan’s eyes. Want. Lust. Obsession. His hands trailed down her back, palms rough against her soft skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He grabbed her waist, pulling her flush against him, letting her feel every inch of his arousal. A gasp escaped her lips, but he swallowed it with another kiss, his tongue tangling with hers, tasting, exploring, devouring. “You taste addictive,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot, his voice thick with want. She let out a shaky exhale as his hands roamed further, his fingers grazing the hem of her dress. With a slow, deliberate movement, he slid it up, exposing the smooth expanse of her thighs. His lips trailed down her neck, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, making her arch against him, slowly his tongues licks through her thighs, she was shivering, she knows exactly were the journey of his tongue was about to end, and just before he buried his tongues in-between , her legs that were raised just above his head, he asked “Do you want this?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, his voice a deep, husky whisper. “Yes,” she breathed, no hesitation, no second thoughts. That was all he needed.

Princess Ellaria Vex-Thorne was found dead beneath the blood moon, her body untouched but the air thick with unnatural magic. The court called it an accident, an unfortunate spell gone wrong, but those who knew her suspected something far more sinister. As the last heir to the Nigh fire Covenant, a lineage of witches bound to the kingdom’s darkest secrets, Ellaria had seen her death coming. And she had prepared for it. Before her murder, she left behind a trail of cryptic clues hidden in spell books, whispered through crows, etched into forgotten mirrors. Each piece of the puzzle unravels the truth: someone within the palace wanted her erased, her power silenced forever. But death is not the end. The deeper one delves into Ellaria's secrets, the more the veil between the living and the dead begins to tear. The castle holds horrors buried in its shadows, curses older than the throne itself. Whoever follows her trail must not only uncover the traitor but survive the darkness Ellaria's death has awakened. In a world where magic is feared and betrayal lurks behind every velvet curtain, the truth demands a price. And Ellaria's final game has only just begun.