Stygian Isles Series by Natalie Bennett – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Stygian Isles Series by Natalie Bennett – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sat, 05 Oct 2024 02:30:56 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Stygian Isles Series by Natalie Bennett – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Semper (Stygian Isles #2) Read Online Natalie Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/semper-stygian-isles-2-read-online-natalie-bennett Sat, 05 Oct 2024 02:30:56 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/semper-stygian-isles-2-read-online-natalie-bennett Genre: Alpha Male, Dark Authors: Natalie Bennett Series: Stygian Isles Series by Natalie Bennett
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Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 127933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 426(@300wpm)

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His claim.
My undoing.

I remain captive on an island where the powerful bend reality to serve their deepest, most twisted desires, and obedience is not just expected—it’s survival.
Here, in this hierarchy of shadows, I am bound to the Devil of the Isle.
And our connection runs deeper than I could have ever imagined.
As we spiral further into the abyss of darkness and depravity, I am left with an impossible choice. Surrender to his world completely, or risk everything for a freedom I may never truly grasp.
Captor and captive.
Sin and salvation.
In the end, only one of us will emerge unscathed.

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

CHAPTER ONE

Waking up without him on top of me felt strangely wrong. It was a disruption of the twisted routine into which we had fallen. Every morning, without fail, Alexander found his way between my legs, staking his claim before the day even began. The absence of his touch wasn’t exactly a relief.

As I shifted, a dull ache in my lower abdomen pulled me back to reality, and I became acutely aware of the dampness beneath me.

Motherfucker.

No—wait, this was a good thing.

Of all the complications swirling around me, my period arriving wasn’t high on my list of problems, but in a way, it was a small victory. Alexander had made it clear he wanted me only for himself before reducing me to a barefoot, pregnant cliché. Yet, I was dutifully drinking fertility smoothies and swallowing pills every morning to increase my chances of conceiving.

And he was insatiable.

His desire for me was both exhilarating and exhausting, leaving me feeling simultaneously desired and objectified. When he wasn’t hard, he used his hands and mouth to keep my body pliant until he could fuck me again. I knew some of this soreness I was feeling had everything to do with him. The irony of the situation was almost comical, but it also made me want to cry. I carefully sat up, clutching the comforter to my body to hide my nakedness.

The feeling of stickiness beneath me only added to the grossness of the whole situation. My cycles were short and never lasted more than four days, but they always managed to be messy and brutal. Every movement felt like a chore as I slowly swung my legs over the side of the bed. The door suddenly creaked open, and my stomach pooled with a mix of dread and surprise when Alexander stepped into the room. His presence filled every inch of the space, his stature commanding as ever.

The first time I had woken up, the sun had yet to fully rise. Now, he stood before me, dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his well-defined muscles. A crisp white undershirt peeked out from beneath the jacket, contrasting starkly against the dark hues of his attire. His tie, a deep shade of burgundy, added a touch of color to the otherwise monochromatic outfit.

His dark hair was perfectly styled, adding to his imposing yet undeniably attractive appearance. Even the faint scar on the right side of his face, which I was beginning to see as a symbol of his complex past, added to his charm.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greeted me as he closed the distance between us, his steps slowing as he studied my face. "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone gentle yet probing. I tried to respond, but no words would come out. His unwavering gaze searched for an explanation as I clutched the blanket tighter around me.

"I...um," I stammered, feeling humiliated and vulnerable. It wasn’t just the physical discomfort; it was the emotional exposure. Periods were natural—I knew that—but I’d never openly discussed them with men. I hadn’t done much of anything with men in general before all of this. Now there I was, trying to explain my discomfort to the very man who had brought me to his home without my consent.

He reached out, his fingers grazing my cheek with a possessive touch. "You're menstruating," he stated bluntly, his tone devoid of any emotion.

I flinched, both from the unexpected contact and his unnerving perception. How could he always see right through me?

His lips curved into a slight smile as he noticed my shock, his amusement evident in his eyes. "Despite everything we've been through, you still doubt that I know every detail about you?" There was no sign of mockery, just a simple acknowledgment as if this were a casual conversation between us.

I sighed softly and shook my head. “No, I guess I don’t. Or rather I shouldn’t. Sorry.”

"There's no need to apologize, deliciae. You're still learning what it means to be in a relationship like ours," he reassured me in a soft voice. "Wait there a moment." His command was gentle yet firm.

I watched him disappear into the bathroom, and moments later, the sound of rushing water cascaded into the room. Was it the shower or the bath? Either way, I was grateful for the gesture. The warmth of the water always seemed to ease my cramps. When Alexander re-entered the bedroom, he carried himself with a sense of thoughtfulness that I had yet to fully comprehend.

He approached my side of the bed, and without hesitation, I sat up straighter, keenly aware of my disheveled state. In one graceful movement, he pulled back the comforter and then, with gentle hands, lifted me up and carried me toward the bathroom.

"I-I don't need your help," I objected, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tremors of shame coursing through me.

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Muerte (Stygian Isles #1) Read Online Natalie Bennett http://www.ilovenovels.com/muerte-stygian-isles-1-read-online-natalie-bennett Tue, 27 Feb 2024 19:57:32 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/muerte-stygian-isles-1-read-online-natalie-bennett Genre: Alpha Male, Dark Authors: Natalie Bennett Series: Stygian Isles Series by Natalie Bennett
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Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 310(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)

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Devil's Mistress.

Evil's whore.

Kidnapped. Abducted.

I’ve been taken away to a private island that’s home to the rich and elite.

Something sinister and perverse lurks just beneath the opulence.

It watches every breath I take and notes each move I make, ensuring that the purpose in which I’m here is never forgotten.

There’s a hierarchy amongst the natives and I am now the exclusive possession of ‘Diabolus’, a gorgeous man that is esteemed as the devil.

His wishes are simple to understand, but obediently giving in to his demands goes against every ounce of human decency and morality I possess.

As we spiral down a path of depravity that leads to the darkest depths of hell, I must decide how I want this to end.

Captor and captive.
Life or death.

Do I become what he needs, or do I risk it all just to die by his hand?

Author Note:
Stygian Isles is a romantic horror series that contains various dark themes. Reader discretion is highly advised. A CW can be found on the author's website as well as the author's note inside. Each book following the main duology is a standalone with a different couple.

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

CHAPTER ONE

There are moments in life we pass off as insignificant that later become crucial pieces of a catalytic chain. The kind of moments we look back on and only then begin to realize all the warning signs that were ignored.

Some would call this hindsight.

I had a different name for it.

Misfortune.

But before we get to that part of my story, it’s best to start from the beginning.

Everything changed the morning I walked through Millennium Resort’s arched glass doors.

I’d never seen it in such upheaval. The upscale establishment prided itself on running smoothly and efficiently. Regardless of any fires that may have needed putting out behind the scenes, the lavish resort maintained a solid front, so seeing my colleagues rushing this way and that had me momentarily taken aback.

I would have asked what was going on, but that meant stopping someone in the middle of what they were doing, and I loathed it when anyone did that to me.

I didn’t see Anya anywhere to ask her either. She was probably still in the bathroom. She’d practically sprinted inside while holding her stomach before I was fully parked. I’d told her not to eat the leftover take-out for breakfast, but she hadn’t listened and had added an entire cup of coffee on top of it. She was in for a rough morning.

Not wanting to be in anyone’s way, I focused on my own job, quickly discerning that the chaos was happening away from the guests. The upper levels were relatively quiet, to the extent that as I settled into my usual workflow, I forgot all about what was happening below.

I did one last sweep of the room I’d just finished refreshing to make sure it was postcard worthy and then went back into the hall. I got to my cleaning trolley just as Anya stepped out from her refresher a few doors down, having made it onto the clock after her rendezvous in the bathroom.

Her dark hair was still coiled in a tidy bun while mine was fighting to escape the ponytail I’d pulled it into earlier. I reasoned that was because hers was pencil straight and mine a thick mass of waves.

“Anything new?” I asked.

“No, same as usual. Unmade beds. Used towels and washcloths tossed all over the place, wet ones at that. It’s disgusting.”

“That’s why we have gloves.”

“We need hazmat suits. I think you should seriously consider attending the next staff meeting and request they put neon signs above the hampers. They’re obviously too hard to see.”

“Why do I have to be the one to do it?”

“Because you’re more responsible and well-spoken, duh.”

I breathed a laugh and slipped off my latex gloves, tossing them into my mini trash bin before scooping up the tablet I was provided to mark down my daily progress. I noted how full the resort was. More than half the room blocks were lit red, indicating they were occupied.

There must have been a conference or something. That didn’t explain the chaotic scene in the lobby, though.

Even when booked for a reception or gala, things weren’t so hectic. I quickly checked off the rooms I’d finished and then dimmed my screen.

“You know most of these people probably don’t know what a hamper is.”

Anya made a sound of annoyance as she retrieved her tablet and did the same. “Are you ready for break? I’ve been ready since we clocked in.”

“Sure.” I took hold of my cart, steering it in the direction of the staff elevators.

It was an official rule that we didn’t use the ones meant for guests. Upon reaching them, Anya waved her employee badge in front of the card reader to bring one up, allowing me to get in first. I eased my cleaning trolley all the way over, careful not to brush against the mirror that made up the sidewall. Anya backed inside, leaving a small gap between the two of us.

She jabbed the button for the floor we needed. “I still can’t believe this is what our lives have come to. Cleaning up after rich people.”

“This is way better than our last job. I still can’t look at raw chicken without wanting to vomit.” I nearly shuddered just thinking about it. “Plus, we could be making less and cleaning up after the poor.”

“Doesn’t that mean we’d just be cleaning up after ourselves?”

“Yeah, but at least then we’d know who the wet washcloths belonged to,” I pointed out as the glossy elevator doors slid shut.

We had multiple variations of this conversation at least once a week. I knew she wanted more from life. That was only natural. I did too. It wasn’t like I woke up ecstatic to go to work and toil with a bunch of strangers’ dirty linens. And I had plenty of opinions about the occasional sneer or upturned nose directed my way.

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