Novels by Aliast

“This is a bad idea,” said Charlie Duffy. Her voice crackled through the speaker, loud and unmistakably exasperated. I could almost see her pushing up her oversized glasses, eyebrows knit together in that classic Charlie-judging-you face. “Like, a really bad idea.”“It’ll be fine,” I murmured, though my heart hadn’t quite caught up with the conviction in my voice.We hadn’t talked in weeks. Between the catastrophe that was my job and the slow-motion wreckage of my marriage, I hadn’t exactly been good at keeping up with weekly calls. Charlie would argue those calls were the very thing keeping me tethered to sanity.She might’ve had a point.“You should’ve called sooner,” she sighed. “I could’ve talked you out of this nonsense before it spiraled into a full-blown operation.”“It’s not nonsense. It’s my last chance to salvage my career,” I said, pacing the apartment with the phone tucked under my chin. “You remember how the last one ended. This is an opportunity, Char. A solid lead. And

“Do you really want me to guess?” I asked, keeping my tone light.“It’s the fallout from your article,” she hissed, her voice barely contained. “An entire correction notice for that so-called ‘investigative exposé’ you wrote, turned out to be riddled with inaccuracies. Do you have any idea how bad this makes us look?”“Okay, first of all, inaccuracies? I followed the facts,” I protested. “And second, the story needed to be told–”“Don’t.” Brenda raised a hand, cutting me off. “We’re supposed to be a beacon of credibility, Maeve. Instead, you’ve turned Compass Media into a punchline. Social media blowback has been a nightmare, and now the publisher wants your head on a platter. You’ve put us all at risk.”Her glare bore into me, sharp enough to flay skin. “Do you have any idea what kind of position you’ve put this paper in? If we can’t recover from this, we’re done. I’m done. And as for you…”She let the threat hang in the air like an axe over my neck.“Brenda, I can fix this,” I said

Elian lay sprawled next to me on the over-priced hotel bed, looking far too smug for someone who had absolutely ruined my ability to walk in a straight line today. Maybe even this week. His fingers danced lazy circles on my spine, and his lips pressed feather-light kisses against my temple.I sighed, a mix of contentment and exhaustion, and just as I was ready to doze off again, my phone began its obnoxious vibrating samba on the nightstand. Once. Twice. Three times.Clearly, whoever was calling had zero respect for post-coital bliss.“Don’t,” Elian murmured, his voice low and sinful as he buried his face in my neck.“Duty calls, Romeo,” I muttered, flailing blindly for the phone. “And unlike some people, I can’t just smirk my way out of responsibilities.”“Summers, here,” I answered crisply, hoping I sounded far more professional than I felt while half-naked and tangled in expensive sheets.‘Morning, Detective. Sorry to wake you, but we’ve got a meeting in an hour. Aaron Somerset, th

The smirk he gave me could’ve been weaponized.“I just wanted to admire the view,” he said smoothly, eyes absolutely devouring me.Admire the view?Oh, I’ll give you more views.I spread my legs wider, an invitation, a neon sign, an entire billboard screaming, ‘Go forth and prosper.’The corner of Elian’s mouth twitched upward, and oh, he was enjoying this. He was enjoying this way too much.“You know what I like about you?” Elian murmured against my jaw, his voice all velvet and sin.I smirked. “Everything.”He laughed, low and husky, and yep, that sound went straight into the save for later folder in my brain. “That right there. You know exactly how sexy you are.”And then his mouth latched onto my pulse point with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for limited-time sales at luxury stores. His hand glided over my thigh, teasing higher and higher until I had to physically grab onto the silky sheet under me so I didn’t do something desperate.Like crying out in heat.His lips bru

The hotel room was ridiculously fancy. We’re talking gold-threaded curtains, silk sheets, and pillows so fluffy they could probably file taxes as dependents. Somewhere in the chaos of landing, catching a ride, and being buzzed off overpriced cocktails, I’d managed to follow Elian into this temple of overpriced elegance.Now, here I was, back pressed against a very expensive-looking door, staring at a man who casually tossed his sweater onto an armchair, only to reveal a black T-shirt that clung to his torso like it was scared of heights.How did I get here? Oh yeah. Whiskey. Betrayal. The undeniable urge to spite my ex and his community-sharing… assets.“You don’t have to do this, Maeve.” Elian’s voice was soft, but that goddamn smirk told me he was hoping I’d do exactly this.My responsible brain screamed at me to leave. To be sensible. To not let a man with the bone structure of a Marvel villain and a voice like melted chocolate ruin what little dignity I had left.But my body?Oh,

Elian let out a low whistle and didn’t answer my question. "Alright, Sherlock, color me impressed."“But I wasn’t done.” I gestured subtly toward his tattoo. "And the snake? That’s not just a trendy ink job. The way it coils on the back of your hand, if it’s ready to strike anyone in front of you? It’s not for show. People who get tattoos like that usually have a deeper meaning attached. Protection, maybe. A warning. Or a mark of affiliation."His grin faltered slightly, his sharp edges reappearing as if I’d pressed too close to something real.I leaned back triumphantly. "Got you, didn’t I?"He let out a soft chuckle, his voice dipping low. "Impressive. And here I thought I was the one holding the cards."I swirled the whiskey in my glass, eyeing Elian with a smirk that barely masked my suspicion. "If I had to guess your job, I’d say… disgraced ex-spy, charismatic arms dealer, or, wait for it… tech billionaire who pretends to care about endangered tree frogs for tax write-offs."Elia