Stella Lin
Stories
2
Chapters
16
Words
18.5 K
Comments
0
Reading
1 h, 32 m
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As I lie beneath him, my heart is heavy with a mix of numbness and longing. Alan's dark eyes bear into mine, burning with an intensity that terrifies me. His kiss, gentle yet firm, explores my curves with obsession. The way he moves is different now—no longer the frantic wildness as before, but a slow, deliberate rhythm that sends shivers through my body. Each thrust is careful, as if he fears breaking something fragile. I'm already carrying his child. The thought should bring comfort, but it…-
11.7 K • Ongoing
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The conference room was larger than usual, its glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city skyline bathed in the late afternoon light. Long, polished tables stretched across the space, surrounded by executives and department leads, each absorbed in their notes, tablets, or coffee cups. I settled into my chair, my notepad resting on the table, listening as the meeting officially began. The meeting was led by Elliot Reid, the director of event operations, who was currently running through the…
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11.7 K • Ongoing
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If hatred had a form— It would look exactly like mine. Asher jolted awake to a scream. His skull throbbed as if split by a mace, every wail around him driving nails into his nerves. Consciousness violently tore free from an abyss of darkness. The first thing he saw was a whip carving arcs through stale air. Crack! The lash struck the shoulder of a girl in the iron cage—Beth, the five-year-old daughter of Carter, the village drunk. Fresh blood unfurled beneath parchment-thin skin. Her…-
2.1 K • Ongoing
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The soldier’s eyes locked onto Asher’s, narrowing as a flicker of surprise betrayed him. It was as if he couldn’t quite comprehend the audacity of a mere slave daring to meet his gaze.The moment dissolved as quickly as it came. His lips curled into a sneer.“Well, well. Look at this. You’ve got some nerve.”He spun on his heel, shouting to his comrades."Bring me a whip! Let’s show this brat how we greet his kind."Laughter echoed from outside.“Again, Deck? Try not to ruin this one too fast.…
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Marcellus Voren was a general of remarkable youth—twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-eight at most. He stood tall, his frame clad in a masterfully crafted iron breastplate—both formidable and elegant, its surface gleaming beneath the golden sunlight. Bronze filigree traced the edges, over his shoulders rested a double-layered pauldron, each plate etched with the imperial eagle. From his left shoulder flowed a striking crimson cloak. At its center, a gilded eagle-head clasp secured the cloak in…
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But Asher paid no heed to their voices. His gaze remained fixed on every strike from Argos, analyzing his movements, the arc of each swing, his rhythm. Patience. He had to wait for his opponent's flaw. Asher had never killed anyone other than Deck. But he had plenty of experience hunting prey. Even mighty beasts like lions and bison had their limits. If the hunt turned into a battle of endurance, fatigue would always set in. That moment will come. Just hold on. Argos'…
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