Eighteen Below Him
Samira James has two weeks left.
Two weeks until she turns eighteen.
Two weeks until everything changes.
And a few months left trapped in high school with the boy she hates most.
Calvin Simms has been her enemy for as long as she can remember. Popular, untouchable, and the living reminder of a childhood misunderstanding neither of them ever corrected. Their interactions are sharp, heated, and carefully controlled.
Until they aren't.
As months pass, tension replaces silence.
Jealousy replaces indifference.
And lines blur where hatred once lived.
With rivals watching, secrets resurfacing, and temptation growing harder to ignore, Samira must decide if sticking to her rules is worth denying what her body and her heart are already choosing.
Because some mistakes feel too good to stop.
And sometimes...
you don't fall for the person you want.
You fall for the one you swore to hate.
Chapters
Share
Chapter 2
Samira's POV
The moment I stepped into Novia's house, I knew trouble was waiting for me. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla candles and the kind of high octane energy my friends only radiated when they had a scheme.
"Finally!" Novia exclaimed, practically dragging me into the living room by my elbow. "I thought you would never get here. You looked like you were surviving a battlefield out there."
"I was." I muttered, dropping my heavy backpack by the door with a satisfying thud. "Hallways should come with hazard pay, especially when Ashley is involved."
Amanda laughed, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder as she crossed her legs on the couch. "You are being dramatic, Sam. She is just annoying, and honestly, completely irrelevant."
"Annoying is putting it lightly." I said, flopping into the velvet armchair. "She is like a human paper cut. Persistent, painful, and impossible to ignore."
Novia leaned in, her eyes glinting with a mischievous light. "That is why we are here. To help you survive the rest of senior year and your big eighteenth birthday."
I blinked, suspicious of the sudden change in tone. "Wait, what do you mean 'help me'?"
"You need guidance." Amanda said slowly, carefully choosing her words like she was handling a fragile artifact. "Because, let's face it, Sam, you have no experience at all."
I groaned, leaning my head back against the chair. "I know. I do not need a lecture."
Novia tilted her head, a stray curl falling over her eye. "No, it is not a lecture. It is strategy."
I raised an eyebrow, my skepticism mounting. "Strategy?"
"Yes!" she said, practically bouncing on the edge of the cushion. "You have been saying all year that you want someone, but no attachment. Someone fun, no strings, just a little experience before we head off to university."
"That is exactly what I have been saying." I muttered. "And it is not your business to help me pick someone."
Amanda's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Oh, but it is our business because we already know the perfect candidate."
I blinked, my mind racing through a list of acceptable classmates. "And who would that be?"
Novia leaned back, smirking like she was about to reveal a master plan for a heist. "Calvin Simms."
I almost choked on the water I had just sipped. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, him." Novia said, unfazed. "Think about it. He is hot, smart, and famously unattached. Commitment free. Best of all, he is the last person who could ever get emotionally attached to you."
My stomach flipped in a way that had nothing to do with the burrito from earlier. "You want me to use Calvin?"
Amanda shrugged. "Call it controlled chaos."
Controlled chaos. Fantastic. My two best friends had officially lost their minds.
"I do not use people." I said slowly, trying to ground the conversation back in reality. "That is not me."
"Exactly!" Novia countered, pointing a finger at me. "That is why this is perfect. He will not try to trap you, you will not get emotionally involved, and you get the experience you're looking for. It is a win-win."
I stared at her as if she had grown a second head right before my eyes. "You really think he would go for that? You do not know him."
"Yes, we do." Amanda said, wagging a finger. "We have watched him. Studied him from afar. He does not do commitment, he does not get emotionally attached, and he is Calvin Simms. He's the gold standard for a temporary distraction."
I laughed bitterly, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "You are insane. Absolutely insane."
Novia leaned closer, her eyes sparkling. "No, we are brilliant. You are just stubborn, but you are smart enough to make this work if you are careful."
I buried my face in my hands, the heat of a blush starting to bloom. "This is ridiculous."
"You know it is not." Amanda said softly. "You have already spent years hating him. You know exactly how he behaves, and you can handle it."
I peeked through my fingers at them. "You do realize this is morally questionable, right?"
"Morally?" Novia laughed, a bright, carefree sound. "Sam, we are talking about surviving senior year with style, grace, and a little fun. Calvin Simms is the perfect foil for that."
I groaned again. "Fun does not usually involve glares, insults, and endless teenage angst."
"Exactly." Amanda said, smiling widely. "That makes it perfect."
For the next hour, they outlined their plan. It mostly involved me projecting a sense of casual interest, testing his boundaries, and refusing to let my guard down for even a second. They even made me rehearse a few lines to use if Calvin gave me that look, the one that made me want to punch him and melt into a puddle at the exact same time.
"Do not look at him like you care." Novia instructed, pacing the floor. "Smile, roll your eyes, tease him, but stay in total control. If he tries to corner you, escape immediately."
I tried not to groan as the absurdity of the situation sank in. "I cannot believe I am taking advice on this."
"Yes, you can." Amanda said. "Because you want it. You want to be prepared for college, for the next step in your life, and you want to prove that you can handle Calvin Simms without falling apart."
I frowned, the word sticking in my throat. "You make it sound like a game."
"It is a game." Novia said smugly. "High school is a battlefield, and you are about to learn the art of war."
I groaned again and buried my face in a decorative pillow.
"Look." I said finally, sitting up and trying to find my resolve. "Even if I wanted to do this, it is going to be complicated."
Amanda tilted her head, her expression serene. "Complicated makes it fun."
I rolled my eyes. "Fun? You mean stressful, humiliating, and emotionally exhausting."
Novia leaned back, her smirk widening. "Exactly. That is the point. You get all the thrill without the messy attachment."
"Attachment." I muttered. I thought of Calvin, the way his eyes lingered on the back of my head in English class and the way his smirk made me want to scream.
I shook my head vigorously. Do not think about it. Do not think about it.
Novia's grin widened. "You see? You cannot help thinking about him. That is why it will work. You just have to keep your wits about you."
I glanced out the window, watching the clouds drift lazily over the suburban rooftops. Two weeks until I turned eighteen. Two weeks until I could technically do this fully, until I could test myself without worrying about crossing some invisible line.
But I knew it would be harder than I was letting on.
Calvin was not just popular or infuriating. He was smart, observant, and dangerous in a way that made me hyper aware of my own heartbeat whenever he was within a five foot radius. The thought of being near him made me curious, not in the way my friends wanted, not yet, but enough that I had to fight the heat creeping across my cheeks.
Novia elbowed me, breaking my trance. "Earth to Sam. You are thinking about him again, aren't you?"
"Shut up." I muttered, hiding my face behind my hair.
Amanda laughed, a gentle sound of victory. "Exactly why this is perfect. You get to test the waters, Sam. No emotions, just fun."
I groaned again, burying my face back into the pillow. "You two are truly insane."
"Maybe." Novia admitted. "But you are going to love it."
By the time I left Novia's house, I had a plan, or at least a rough sketch of one. Keep Calvin guessing, do not let him see me flinch, and have fun, whatever that actually meant in practice. Two weeks. That was all I had to prepare.
Walking down the quiet, tree lined streets toward my own home, I could not shake the nagging feeling that this plan might backfire spectacularly. Calvin Simms was too unpredictable, too sharp, and dangerous in ways I did not yet understand.
And yet, my pulse raced every time I imagined him looking at me, even for a fleeting second, as if he already knew more than he let on.
Two weeks. The clock was ticking, and the game had already begun.
You may also like
9.1
Waking up with a cold, scaly hand wrapped around my throat wasn't the worst part.
The worst part was realizing I'd transmigrated into the body of Terra Mason—the most despised woman in the entire Enclave. She drugged high-level beast-men and forced them into life-binding bio-contracts. She locked an aquatic warrior in a dry basement until his organs failed. She treated the most lethal males in the city like broken toys.
Zev, the Level 6 serpent who's currently choking me, would rather blow up his own heart than spend another day as my slave. His affection metric? Negative ninety. His trust? Zero.
Then my system activates: the Kore AI. It gives me exactly 500 credits, a medical nano-gel, and a recipe for neutralizing the radioactive poison in mutant meat. Real food. In this world, that's worth more than gold.
I save Rhys, the dying aquatic male everyone left for dead. I season a slab of purple mutant steak until Sam, a battle-scarred grizzly shifter, groans at the taste—and his trust points finally tick above zero. When my backstabbing ex-best friend tries to steal my males and destroy me, I don't scream or throw a tantrum like the old Terra. I dismantle her with the truth.
But earning their trust means more than grilling meat. A scorpion swarm ambushes us at midnight. Sam throws himself between me and a stinger the size of my arm. As he stands over the corpse, fur receding from his claws, he stares at me and whispers, "You were testing me."
Yes. I was. Because in this world, the weak don't survive. And I refuse to be weak again.
Four beast-men. Four contracts. One system. And a whole lot of steak. Let this dystopian wasteland know—I'm not the monster they remember. I'm worse. I'm the one who's going to feed them until they'd kill for me.
7.1
I was the Architect who built the digital fortress for the most feared Don in New York.
To the world, I was Brendan Wiggins’s silent, elegant Queen.
But then my burner phone buzzed under the dinner table.
It was a photo from his mistress: a positive pregnancy test.
"Your husband is celebrating right now," the caption read. "You are just the furniture."
I looked across the table at Brendan. He smiled and held my hand, lying to my face without blinking.
He thought he owned me because he saved my life ten years ago.
He told her I was just "functional." That I was a barren asset he kept around to look respectable, while she carried his legacy.
He thought I would accept the disrespect because I had nowhere else to go.
He was wrong.
I didn't want to divorce him—you don't divorce a Don.
And I didn't want to kill him. That was too easy.
I wanted to erase him.
I liquidated fifty million dollars from the offshore accounts only I could access. I destroyed the servers I had built.
Then, I contacted a black-market chemist for a procedure called "Tabula Rasa."
It doesn't kill the body. It wipes the mind clean. A total hard reset of the soul.
On his birthday, while he was out celebrating his bastard son, I drank the vial.
When he finally came home to find the empty house and the melted wedding ring, he realized the truth.
He could burn the world down looking for me, but he would never find his wife.
Because the woman who loved him no longer existed.
8.7
Explicit 18+ | Reader Discretion Strongly Advised
Dark themes, noncon/dubcon, extreme kink, power imbalance, group dynamics, knotting, overstimulation, and possessive claiming ahead.
A brutal omegaverse world. Warring packs. Rare silver-eyed omega Kai Voss lives hidden until a midnight raid destroys his safety.
The most feared triad captures him: Thorne Blackwood, a pierced sadist who pushes limits; Aurelius Voss, the volatile second, his knot pulsing with hunger; Cassian Reyes, the silent, amber-eyed observer whose fixation vows complete ownership. Dragged to their mountain den, Kai becomes their prize.
Defiant and sharp-tongued, Kai resists every command. His body betrays him with slick, aching need. On the first night, the alphas take him, one by one, then together. They stretch him past reason. Knot him impossibly. Fill him until his rim thins visibly. Slick eases the searing burn into shattering pleasure.
"Room for one more?" Thorne growls, forcing his pierced length beside the two already locked inside. He drags across sensitive spots until Kai arches, tears falling, his body yielding as omega instincts beg for more.
Three cocks locked and throbbing, owning him entirely.
"Fuck, he's taking us all," Aurelius groans.
Cassian watches silently, eyes blazing, plotting the next step to remake Kai forever.
Raw conquest becomes unbreakable obsession: relentless heats, punishments blending pain and ecstasy, jealous rivalries over cries, rare tenderness binding possession deeper.
Three ruthless alphas pursue the forbidden, shattering their defiant omega until he is stretched wide, ruined, reborn in their image. Relentless desire shows no mercy: tight entrances forced open, rimmed raw by impossible girths, slick-soaked and pulsing under unyielding ownership.
Hide and read in secret. Once the story begins, escape is impossible. Squirm. Ache. Hunger for every page.
DON'T BLAME ME WHEN YOU CAN'T STOP READING ALL 150 CHAPTERS ⚠️🔞‼️
7.9
Hannah came home under a false identity, ready to keep her head down and avoid trouble. Then a near-drowning opened her eyes, and the family she had wanted gave her nothing but disappointment.
She severed every tie, shed the disguise, and rose in revenge as a miracle doctor, brilliant hacker, and feared underworld ruler. Shock followed her family at every turn.
Her parents regretted everything. Her eldest brother clung desperately to the bond of their shared blood, while her second brother gave up his entire fortune just to earn her forgiveness. Her third brother offered up his own body for a surgery-all to save her.
But Hannah stayed cold and built her empire alone. Only one deadly rival refused to be ignored.
"I was hired to kill you, mister."
"Then take my heart, too."
7.8
The moment I saw my husband massaging his dead brother's pregnant mistress's feet, I knew my marriage was over.
He moved her into our home under the guise of "family duty," forcing me to watch as he prioritized her comfort over our vows.
The final betrayal came when she stole and deliberately broke my mother's priceless necklace.
When I slapped her for the desecration, my husband struck me across the face to defend her.
He had violated a sacred honor code by putting his hands on the daughter of another Don-an act of war.
I looked him in the eye and swore on my mother's grave that I would bring a bloody revenge upon his entire family.
Then I made one phone call to my father, and the demolition of his empire began.
9.2
My husband, a ruthless mafia Capo, brought his pregnant mistress to our anniversary party. He then ordered me to give her a blood transfusion, knowing my heart condition could kill me. As my life drained away, I knew my nine-year marriage was finally over.
It was my ninth wedding anniversary, and I stood in an expensive gown, watching Dominick Reyes, a feared mafia Capo, celebrate with our guests. But the celebration wasn't for us; Dominick had brought Chastity, his pregnant mistress, and then publicly ordered me out of our master suite. Chastity, who had faked her pregnancy, then framed me for an attack. Dominick forced me to give a blood transfusion to Chastity, knowing my heart condition made it potentially fatal. As my blood drained from my veins, sustaining the woman who had stolen my life, I felt my consciousness fading, hoping I would not wake up.
When I woke, Dominick had already paraded Chastity to a gala. He had drained me, used me, and then abandoned me in a hospital bed, breaking his promise of a divorce. I was nothing more than a debt payment, a pawn in his brutal game. Knowing he would never truly let me go, I calmly called a trusted contact. I would disappear from his world, become someone new, and this time, Dominick Reyes would pay.