🔥 FEARLESS 🔥

Here's a pic of me and my step-sister before my Boxing Day food-coma 😂

2026 is going to be epic. I woke up on the 1st, and my one-word intention hit me. 

F E A R L E S S

This year, I'm doing something that scares the living crap out of me. I'm stepping out of my comfort zone. 

No holding back. 

No censoring. 

No judging myself. 

What does that mean for my writing? 

No more striving for perfection, obsessing over every comma and em-dash, spending hours thinking up the perfect simile. 

I have so many stories to tell, I sometimes feel like they're drowning me. So I'm determined to be fearless, and stop procrastinating so I can spend more time creating! 

More stories, more adventures, more living!

Do you have an intention? A resolution? Something you want to change/improve/double down on in 2026? I'd love to hear it!  

I'm still anticipating the release of Punished to happen later this month. I don't have a fixed date yet, but keep an eye out for an announcement in the next week or two! In the meantime, you can pre-order Punished for only $2.99 (regular price: $4.99)

And, as promised, here's a little teaser….

Punished by my Enemy

Kai

"Get inside before someone sees you," Rooke says.

Haven's hand tightens in mine. I can feel her pulse hammering against my palm. Or maybe that's my own heartbeat, pounding so hard it's migrated to my fucking fingertips.

The shadows inside the mausoleum merge seamlessly with the black granite. The sickly flicker of an oil lantern wedged into the niche of some future dead guy's final resting place stretches Rooke's shadow into something monstrous.

Fitting.

He's wearing black, to match his soul. And that fucking wolf mask pushed up on his forehead only makes him seem more imposing.

"Cozy," I mutter, glancing around.

One way in, one way out. Granite walls pressing close. A sarcophagus in the center like a goddamn altar.

We're trapped.

Again.

"I expect punctuality." Rooke pulls the door shut behind us. The soft thud is too loud in the now hushed, sacred space. "Forgiveness is going to cost you."

"Forgiveness?" Haven lets out a sharp laugh. "That's rich, coming from you."

Rooke's brows draw together.

"Watch your tone with me, girl." His dark eyes slide to me. "Or have you forgotten what's at stake here?"

My skin prickles at the touch of his gaze, and I try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. But my pulse is already kicking up, muscles tensing, cock twitching like the traitorous piece of shit it is.

"We got a party to get back to, Rooke." I keep my voice flat, but I can't help the tremor in them. 

He circles us, fingers trailing along the edge of the sarcophagus before he slides the flat of his hand over the surface. It's surprisingly clean, like he wiped everything down before we got here.

There was a severed chain dangling from the iron gate outside, but I don't see any bolt cutters lying around. It would be just like him to come in here and prepare the place…but what the fuck for?

"What do you want?" I blurt out, before my mind tries to answer the question.

Rooke's mouth curves like a predator getting ready to show its teeth.

"I want you. Both of you." He pats the top of the sarcophagus, then carries on walking around the block of granite, head down, voice low. "Here. Now."

Haven shifts beside me, crossing her arms tight across her chest, but I don't look at her.

I can't.

Because if I see fear in her eyes, I'll do something stupid.

And if I see lust…Jesus.

"And if we say no?" she asks, voice shaking as much as mine.

Rooke stops. Turns. The lantern light catches his face, carving shadows beneath his cheekbones that make him look more wolfish than the mask on the top of his head.

His head tilts as he smiles. "If only you were brave enough to find out."

Silence stretches. Cold seeps through my costume—the stupid fucking Mad Hatter tailcoat and no shirt to go with Haven's Alice in Wonderland outfit. 

It seemed clever three hours ago, now it just makes me feel exposed.

Haven's fingers flex against mine.

I should grab her and run. We can take our chances.

But we both know there's nowhere to go.

Rooke holds the key to her future…and mine. His invisible web was so carefully spun, neither of us saw it until we were well and truly trapped.

"Then let's get it over with." I have to fight to speak, to push out the words. But anything's better than the stifling dread, the spiral of ugly thoughts filling my head.

Rooke's smile widens, flashing teeth. "There's my good boy."

He closes the distance between us in three measured strides. "First, lose the hat."

He reaches up before I can stop him, plucking the top hat off my head and tossing it onto the sarcophagus like it's a coat rack.

"Better." His fingers brush my jaw. I jerk back, but there's nowhere to go—the wall is right fucking there. 

He turns to Haven, snapping his fingers. "Come here."

Haven lifts her chin, staring him down. "Make me."

My heart gives a hard thump against my ribs.

Jesus, that mouth of hers is going to get us both killed…or worse.

But Rooke just lets out a low, dark laugh. "As you wish."

He moves fast. One second he's an arm's length away, the next he's got Haven by the throat, walking her backward until her shoulders hit the wall beside me.

"You've been running from me for weeks." His voice drops to a murmur. "Hiding behind your boyfriend. Pretending you don't want this."

"I wasn't—"

"Liar." He leans in, his lips brushing her ear, thumb grazing the edge of her jaw. "I can smell how wet you are from here."

Haven's breath catches. Her blue eyes find mine, fluttering when Rooke's thumb slides over her bottom lip.

But she's not scared.

She's turned on.

And suddenly my cock is straining against my pants, my skin warming, my breath hitching.

I fucking hate that he can do that to her so effortlessly. To me.

"Get your hands off her," I growl, but the words come out weaker than I want them to.

Rooke doesn't even look at me. "I don't think so."

This close, I can smell his cologne mingling with the smell of Haven's shampoo and the vanilla-scented body mist stuff she sprayed all over herself before we left the Airbnb.

Maybe that's what triggers me. Or maybe it's the way our professor dips down like he's going to claim her mouth right in front of me.

I lunge.

Or try to.

His free hand shoots out, catching my throat and slamming me back against the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth. Now he's got both of us pinned, a large, veiny hand on both our throats.

He's not even breaking a sweat.

"That's more like it." His thumbs press into our pulses, feeling…what? Our heartbeats, our fear, our fucked-up arousal?

"Let go," Haven gasps, digging into his wrist.

"No." He squeezes both our necks. As if we need a reminder of who's in charge right now. "You came here because you wanted this. Both of you. You're just too scared to admit it."

"We're here because you fucking blackmailed us," I spit.

"Semantics." His grip loosens slightly, turning from restraint to caress. "The end result is the same. You're here. I'm here."

His hand slides from Haven's throat to her jaw, tilting her face toward his.

"And you owe me an apology."

"For what?" she breathes, sounding incredulous despite the hand on her throat.

"For not answering my call. For making me wait tonight." He brushes his lips against hers, and a pump of blood makes my cock swell inside my pants. "For pretending you belonged to anyone but me."

Then he's kissing her.

The kiss isn't gentle. It isn't sweet.

Rooke devours her like Haven's the only thing keeping him alive. His hand fists in her hair, yanking her head back to deepen the angle, and she fucking moans into him.

I can't look away. With his hand still on my neck, I can't move away. Even distracted as he is, I know the consequences won't be worth the brief freedom.

Or maybe I just like the way his palm feels against my Adam's apple. How his fingers twitch against the column of my throat.

My cock throbs against my zipper and I tell myself it's because of the sounds Haven makes as Rooke's mouth grinds against hers.

I should be angry. I should be ripping him off her, beating his face in, protecting what's mine.

But when I grab his wrist, Rooke's only response is a brief growl and a tightening of his fingers.

So I stay frozen, my cock leaking precum, my own lips tingling as I watch.

As I want.

When he finally pulls back, Haven's lips are swollen and her eyes are glazed.

"Good girl," he murmurs. Then his dark, ravenous gaze cuts to me. "Your turn, boy."

I try to pull his hand off my throat, by my muscles have gone weak—those dark eyes pinning me in place as much as his strong fingers.

My voice is barely louder than a whisper when I huff out, "Fuck you. I'm not—"

He doesn't wait to hear the rest.

He just steps against me, into me, and kisses me.

It's nothing like the kiss he gave Haven. This is brutal. Punishing. His teeth catch my lower lip and pull, and the pain sparks through me like electricity.

I should bite him. Headbutt him. Something.

Instead, my mouth opens.

And he takes everything I give…and still insists on more.