Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:13:26 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Absolution (Favorite Malady Duet #3) Read Online Julia Sykes http://www.ilovenovels.com/absolution-favorite-malady-duet-3-read-online-julia-sykes Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:13:26 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/absolution-favorite-malady-duet-3-read-online-julia-sykes Genre: Alpha Male, Dark Authors: Julia Sykes Series: Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)

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I might be a monster, but I’m her monster.

When a ghost from our past returns to threaten Abigail, I will do anything to protect her.

She says she doesn’t want me to kill for her again, but I don’t think I’m capable of mercy. Especially not when her safety is on the line.

Even though I’m a psychopath, I’m not delusional. After all of my crimes, I’ll never be worthy of her.

But I’ve been honest with her from the I’m too selfish to let her go.

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my little dove caged forever.

And I’ll eliminate anyone who tries to take her from me.

I don’t need absolution. I just need her

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

1

DANE

Istare at the mangled remains of Stephen Lansing, and I don’t bother to prevent my lips from curving with vindictive pleasure.

The detective taps the photo. “You don’t seem disturbed by the crime scene.”

I blink, and my fleeting expression of cruel satisfaction drops away. I meet the detective squarely in the eye, and he flinches ever so slightly. He can sense that there’s an unrepentant predator in this tiny gray room with him.

“Why did you do it?” he presses. “Stephen must’ve done something terrible to deserve this kind of beating.”

I don’t say anything. I simply skewer the man with an icy stare.

I’m supposed to be under questioning, but he will be the one to squirm, not me.

The detective shifts in his seat and tries a different angle. “Something happened between the two of you, and things got heated. Maybe it went too far. Maybe you didn’t mean to kill him.”

He makes the suggestions like he’s extending a helping hand, offering me a scenario with a reduced sentence.

He thinks he can win some sort of battle of wills between us, but he doesn’t understand yet that I’m not engaging.

I confessed to the arresting officer in order to save Abigail, but I’m not going to give this man one more incriminating word out of my mouth.

The prospect of spending a life sentence in a cage sends a chill shuddering down my spine, but I resolutely ignore it. I will not show fear.

If it means securing Abigail’s freedom, I’ll pay any price. I’ll face the consequences for my actions, even if I don’t feel a shred of remorse for what I did to the bastard who assaulted her.

I’d kill him again a thousand times over.

She’s the only thing that matters to me.

A sharp knock on the door to the interrogation room cuts through the thick silence. The detective jolts with surprise, and he takes a moment to collect himself before standing to see who’s interrupting us.

A middle-aged woman with a severely sharp gray bob haircut waits in the open doorway.

“I’m Madeline Taylor, Dr. Graham’s solicitor,” she introduces herself.

“No,” I dismiss her before she can step foot in the room. “I’ve already waived my right to representation.”

I’ve already confessed. There’s no point trying to plead not guilty.

Ms. Taylor narrows her brown eyes on me. “I implore you to reconsider.”

It sounds more like a command than a request, and I raise a brow at her.

“No.”

“Lord Graham sent me,” she insists. “I’m here to ensure⁠—”

“Go away.” I don’t try to keep the snap from my tone. No fucking way am I accepting help from my father.

He’s not actually concerned with helping me; he’s trying to avoid a scandal.

I’m not even sure how he found out about my arrest so quickly, but I’m not surprised. He has connections in law enforcement and local government. Someone will have alerted him to the mess I’ve made.

“If Dr. Graham doesn’t consent to your presence, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave,” the detective says.

He probably thinks that my refusal to cooperate will make his job easier. I plan to make this process as painfully frustrating for him as possible, and I don’t need a solicitor for that.

“Daniel!” My mother’s voice is shrill, echoing down the hallway just outside the interrogation room.

My stomach drops.

Fuck.

The last thing I want is to see my parents when I’m in such a vulnerable position.

Mum pushes Ms. Taylor aside and strides into the room, my father right behind her.

“You can’t be in here.” The detective’s chest puffs with outrage.

My father flicks an imperious wave at him. “Leave us.”

“I don’t think⁠—”

“This is Lord David Graham,” Ms. Taylor cuts him off in brittle tones. “If you want him to leave, complain to your superiors. See what they say to that.”

The detective’s cheeks turn red, and his shoulders stiffen. His jaw works as though he’s chewing over a retort as he exits the room.

“I’d like a private word with my son,” Dad tells the solicitor.

She quickly excuses herself with a deferential nod.

Her obsequiousness sets my teeth on edge. My father thinks he can buy anything he wants: her loyalty, the detective’s compliance, and my freedom.

But I’m not going anywhere. Abigail will not face arrest because of my cowardice. I will not bend to my family’s will.

“What have you done this time, Daniel?” My mother huffs, pale blue eyes flashing with fury. “A murder charge? I thought we were clear when you were a child. You’ve always known what would happen if you didn’t curb your violent nature.”

“Do you know what you might’ve cost this family?” Dad thunders, face going almost purple with his own rage. “If the chief constable hadn’t called me, this might’ve gone too far for damage control. As it is, you will be able to walk out of here within the hour, and this incident will be forgotten.”

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Redemption (Favorite Malady Duet #2) Read Online Julia Sykes http://www.ilovenovels.com/redemption-favorite-malady-duet-2-read-online-julia-sykes Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:15:23 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/redemption-favorite-malady-duet-2-read-online-julia-sykes Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Dark Authors: Julia Sykes Series: Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 69524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)

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The man I love betrayed me on a level I never thought possible.

I trusted him to keep me safe. He was my white knight and my dark god, all in one gorgeous package.

Until an awful revelation changed everything.

Now, I'm desperate to escape his twisted obsession, but he refuses to let me go.

He takes me away from my home and traps me in a gilded cage.

He insists that I still love him, but he can't command my affections.

No matter how much pleasure he gives me or how many times he says I belong to him.

For a man like Dane, I don't think redemption is possible, even if some secret part of my heart yearns for it to be true

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

1

ABIGAIL

Iwake up to a nightmare.

In the second between unconsciousness and waking, I believe that the awful scene with Dane was just that: a nightmare.

But then I realize that I can’t move my limbs, and something soft is wedged between my teeth. The makeshift gag presses deep into my mouth, and part of my brain registers that it’s one of Dane’s neckties.

More silken material binds my wrists and ankles. They’re drawn together at the small of my back, stretching my body in a hogtied position. I’m completely helpless to do anything but writhe on my side.

Fear crashes into me like the sharp slap of an icy ocean wave in January. Terror rips from my chest in a primal scream, but it’s muffled by the knotted gag.

Dane shushes me gently, and I shudder in horror at the shadow of comfort that tempts me.

The man I love is the masked man who attacked me.

He’s my online confidante, GentAnon.

He has scores of my paintings hanging in this house, the house across the street from my apartment building.

How long has he been watching me?

My mind races through all the times I felt shivery and trembled in his presence, even on our first dates. The images flicker in a nauseating film reel. Even then, my body recognized the predator. But I’m addicted to the fear, the threat.

He learned all of my darkest secrets, and he used them against me.

The mattress dips beside me, and my dark god appears in my line of vision, blocking out the view of my paintings.

We’re still in the bedroom of the powder blue house, in the horrific shrine to me.

I can’t have been out for very long. He caught me in a chokehold, but I don’t feel bruises around my neck.

Dane wouldn’t risk damaging his pet.

My stomach churns, and I taste acid on the back of my tongue.

Another scream tears from my soul—pure horror this time. Despair. Denial.

Dane’s familiar, elegant hand is achingly gentle as he strokes my hair back from my cheek. His eyes are deep green pools, and fine lines sharpen his heartbreaking features.

“Hush now, pet. I’m not going to hurt you.”

I shudder and cringe away, but I can’t move more than an inch in my bound state. He has no trouble keeping me within his tender reach, and he caresses my cheek as though to prove my powerlessness.

“I didn’t want it to be this way.” His cultured voice is deep with something like regret.

The slightly rough tone threads confusion through my panicked, racing thoughts.

I don’t know what’s real anymore. Is he my protective, fierce lover? Or is he a heartless, calculating monster?

The memory of the woolen skull mask in my fingers is all too sharp.

I definitely didn’t dream that.

“I can’t let you go to the police,” he reasons. He’s unnervingly calm, and I recognize his bedside manner voice.

My vision blurs as tears surge. I desperately blink them away so that I can keep the threat in sight.

His thumb traces the line of my cheekbone as he wipes away the wetness on my cheeks.

My entire body goes cold, and a violent shiver makes my bound limbs quake.

“Don’t be afraid,” he soothes over the sound of my muffled pleas.

Let me go, I try to beg. You don’t have to do this.

But the words are garbled behind the gag, and my assailant seems unfazed by my distress. He’s still touching me as though he intends to comfort me, but he’s coolly composed. I recognize the merciless, flat expression that sets his handsome face in stony planes. It used to make me tremble with desire. Now, I shudder in pure terror.

“Try not to struggle,” he says, a gentle command. “You’ll only strain your muscles. I have to go to my place to get a few things, but you’ll be safe here.”

He gestures in the direction of the nightstand. My phone is propped up against a lamp, the camera directed at me.

“I’ll have you on video call the whole time.” He says it like a reassurance. “I wouldn’t leave you alone like this if I didn’t absolutely have to. I’ll watch over you, even when I’m not here.”

Ice encases my bones. How long has he been doing just that: watching over me?

He twirls my purple curl around his finger before withdrawing regretfully. “I’ll be back soon.”

He stands and starts walking away.

Please! I scream into the gag. Dane!

He seems to recognize his name, because he flinches like I flung a knife that hit its mark deep in his chest. Then he shrugs and strides out of the bedroom, disappearing into the living room. I hear the front door open, then close. The lock engages.

I scream for help, for mercy, for salvation.

But no one hears my smothered pleas.

No one comes to save me.

I’m not sure how much time passes, but my muscles ache and my throat is sore by the time Dane returns.

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Compulsion (Favorite Malady Duet #1) Read Online Julia Sykes http://www.ilovenovels.com/compulsion-favorite-malady-duet-1-read-online-julia-sykes Mon, 21 Apr 2025 22:19:51 +0000 http://www.ilovenovels.com/compulsion-favorite-malady-duet-1-read-online-julia-sykes Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Insta-Love Authors: Julia Sykes Series: Favorite Malady Duet Series by Julia Sykes
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Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)

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I've been watching her. Wanting her. Stalking her.

I'm obsessed with the shy, innocent barista who works at my favorite coffee shop.

She doesn't know that I bought the house across the street from her apartment so that I can watch over her.

I secretly collect her paintings and hang them in my bedroom.

And I won't hesitate to break into her home to find out what kind of books she likes to read.

I'll do whatever it takes to win her heart.

As a doctor, I know my own diagnosis: psychopath.

But my obsession with her makes me feel almost human for the first time in my life.

I can't resist this...compulsion.

I can't resist her.

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

PROLOGUE

ABBY

The masked man is waiting for me in the midnight shadows of my apartment.

I stumble slightly as I close the front door behind me and search blindly for the light switch. Before my palm brushes the hard plastic knob, strong fingers ensnare my wrist, and a broad body slams into mine. A gloved hand clamps over my mouth, muffling my shocked cry. My arm is wrenched behind me, and I’m forced to turn when my shoulder screams in protest. The intruder uses his grip on my arm as a lever to control my body, and I’m pinned in an instant, my cheek pressing against the inside of my front door.

The lingering, pleasant buzz of alcohol disappears from my mind like fog evaporating beneath harsh morning light, and my entire world sharpens in a burst of adrenaline.

I try to shove away from the door with my free hand, but my short nails scrabble uselessly against the peeling ivory paint. My other wrist is pinned behind my back, and my attacker’s weight keeps me trapped between him and the door.

A low growl rumbles against my nape, making my fine hairs stand on end. The man’s hand on my face slides upward, covering my nose and mouth. I can’t breathe.

My entire body seizes with panic, and I writhe in his hold.

He releases my trapped wrist for a split second, but I don’t have the time or space to fight him off before a sharp clicking noise is followed by a cold blade at my throat.

“Quiet.” His voice is deep and rough, almost inhuman. “Don’t fight me, and I won’t hurt you.”

It’s a lie, but I have no choice: I comply.

My tears fall in silent streams as my world shatters, and my masked attacker breaks me down to reveal the most painful, darkest parts of my soul.

1

DANE

Her slender fingers are far too elegant for steaming milk and pouring espresso. She keeps her shy, aquamarine gaze characteristically downcast, and dark lashes hide her striking eyes as she focuses on her work. A large, brown freckle marks her right cheekbone, half a centimeter from the corner of her eye. The imperfection should irritate me, but I find the imbalance on her otherwise symmetrical face fascinating.

I’m equally intrigued by the purple streak in her long, sable hair. It’s pulled back in a messy ponytail for her barista job, and the defiant dyed locks peek through thick waves at her nape. When her hair is down during private moments at home, the flash of amethyst falls over her left shoulder. Sometimes, she braids it into an elaborate but functional style that shows off the bold color.

As she reaches for a paper cup, the golden café lighting plays over a cerulean paint smudge that marks her delicate, porcelain wrist—a hint at her creative brilliance and her haphazard lifestyle.

A few blocks away, her tiny, one-bedroom apartment is a perpetual mess, the mundane chores neglected in favor of pursuing her art. She paints with feverish intensity every day, until the bright summer Charleston sunlight wanes, and her canvas is illuminated by her cheap standing lamps.

I know because I’ve watched her for hours. There’s a shadowy garden that’s overgrown in front of the house across the street from her derelict building.

I bought the house two months ago so that I could indulge in my obsession. This compulsion to know everything about her has become my favorite malady, and I’m far too selfish to seek out a cure.

I’ve known my own diagnosis long before I completed my medical degree: psychopath.

But my craving for this woman is the closest thing to human emotion I’ve ever experienced.

I want more.

I want her.

Body, heart, and soul.

Abigail Foster is already mine. She will accept the truth soon enough.

2

ABBY

Ifeel his forest green eyes on me, even though I barely glimpsed him in my peripheral vision when he entered the café. Luckily, my coworker, Stacy, is on register today; I’m able to hide behind the espresso machine and lose my frazzled thoughts in the morning rush of thirsty caffeine addicts.

But as much as I’d like to remain cushioned in my mindless bubble of steaming milk and pouring out familiar latte art, I’m always aware when he comes in for his daily black Americano.

His name is Dane.

That’s what it says on his cup every morning when he places his order like clockwork at eight-oh-five AM.

The name suits him: it’s a hot name for an insanely gorgeous man.

He’s so beautiful that I can barely look at him, much less hold eye contact.

Sometimes, I indulge myself when he’s chatting with whoever is on register. He’s charming, with a brilliant white smile that flashes in contrast with the dark, perfectly manicured stubble that covers his anvil-sharp jawline. Midnight-black hair is artfully swept back from his heartbreaking face, longer on top and cropped close at the sides. Heavy brows that might be too harsh on another man accent his boldly masculine features.

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