Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I am thrilled to announce my next YA dystopian novel, WINTERVEIL:
PLAY THE GAME. WIN THE WAR.
There is no application process for Valeran Academy, but it boasts the brightest—and most precociously criminal—students in the nation.
A disgraced politician from a powerful American dynasty.
A coldly brilliant strategist who will sacrifice anything to win.
A former pageant queen with a talent that could change the world.
An expert female soldier with an enigmatic past—and a dangerous secret.
With eerie war simulations, cutthroat competitions, and foreboding new technology, Valeran trains its students to be elite assets in a Cold War that has dragged on for nearly a century. But as a sinister conspiracy takes shape and these four are drawn together for a mysterious mission, their loyalties are tested, their convictions shaken and they all begin to wonder: are they ushering in a new era of freedom, or tyranny?
Valeran’s enrollment opens September 15, 2026.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Lottie had never received a Winterveil present and thus, had never given the holiday much thought. Celebrations, birthdays, these were things she had never and could never have so she left them to the living. Though, she liked the energy of Winterveil, all the loved ones gathered close, their spirits bright with everything from anger to love to annoyance to joy.
All the same, it was like being out in the frozen cold, looking through frosted glass. Forgotten. Alone. As she moved through Dracone Castle, only amusing for parlor tricks. She drifted around the enormous Winterveil tree Seralah had made Manus conjure. It was at least twenty feet tall and ringed in brightly colored gifts.
She liked many of the ornaments. There was one that drew her in particular, a glass teardrop with a miniature angel inside, surrounded by a nest of gilded tinsel so it looked like a captured cloud. The angel was pretty with golden wings and long, dark hair. But the ornament made her sad in a strange way she couldn’t understand. A little toy, steam locomotive chugged around the base of the tree, weaving through a candy colored city of gifts. She read the names on the packages.
There weren’t any for her, not that she expected there to be. What could one even give a ghost? Still, she wished there was a present under the tree for her. Just an empty box with pretty wrapping would have sufficed so she could feel included. Thought of.
A ripple of sharp sadness went through her when she saw there wasn’t one for Roval either. Of everyone there, she thought he deserved the most gifts. To see him not even get one…upset her.
Again, she felt so helpless. She would give him a hundred gifts if she were alive. Thoughtful ones to reflect his noble character. In the parlor, when the magic was a storm he bravely protected everyone. Even her, though he didn’t know it. It had hurt him too, made him bleed.
That moment, watching him stand tall even when afraid and hurting sent her from infatuation into love. She couldn’t bear it if there was no gift for Roval on Winterveil morning. She knew how it felt to be left out.
Lottie spent some time in thought, drifting through the castle’s crypt. She liked it there, the spirits were not mindless or fearful and simply curious and tolerant of her. It felt like the only place belonged, though she knew this feeling was dangerous. To belong to the grave was to eventually disappear.
It was easier to move through walls and floors. She felt much stronger.
This gave her a dangerous idea.
She was going to go home and try something.
Traveling outside felt very strange and it took all of her will to stay together. The natural world wanted to disperse her spirit as was the order of things, but every bit of her energy resisted this. Love, she thought, that’s what made her stronger than the will of creation to see her move on.
She flowed over the land, startling nighttime creatures who could see or sense spirits. Bloodhaven manor no longer belonged to her sister, but the man who had taken it from her had not yet set foot on the estate and everything remained untouched.
Lottie could feel her strength return and it was easier to hold herself together when she crossed through the door over the threshold. This was home, where she had spent most of her existence.
That night, the spirit of her mother was not there, much to her relief. She had been her murderer and she supposed her mother would not be pleased to see her. She hoped that she’d moved on to whatever punishment that surely awaited her.
Lottie sank into the floor, deep into her own family crypt. She hadn’t gone down there since her father’s death. If his spirit had been tethered, she would have been sad for him to be trapped in the In Between like her. If he had been gone, she would have been so sad she had missed a chance to speak to him. Now, surely, he was long gone, his energy returned to the beautiful world.
Inside his tomb he was only bones and rotted cloth, his skeletal hands grasping the sword that had been his father’s, passed down from the first Bloodhaven patriarch to the last, over his chest. The golden stag of her House decorated the hilt, antlers holding a ruby blood moon. Sanguis Meminit was inscripted on the blade, her House motto. Father didn’t need his sword anymore and had left no son to pass it to.
Roval should have a noble blade with heavy history and honor. If she could have asked her father, he would have agreed, she knew this deeply within her soul.
With these thoughts, golden threads spilled out of her being, winding around her father’s remains, trailing off and upwards, leading her to the place the heart of her called home. Lottie knew she could move the sword and herself. Distance was for flesh. Time was for the living. She could transcend both as all of her vibrated and sang with the joy of seeing these golden threads of love leave her being, feeling them connect to Roval and her sister.
She curled herself around the blade and sent all of her energy home to Dracone Castle, to Roval where he slept, his dark curls spilled across his pillow, his angelic features soft with sleep.
I will never love him more than I do right now, Lottie thought, the room lit with the gold of her love, the threads winding around them both.
The sword of House Bloodhaven lay at the foot of his bed, softly gleaming in the winter moonlight. A noble blade for a noble man as the ghost of Charlotte Bloodhaven faded softly, exhausted, thin and pale in the In Between.
Lillandyr lay naked, face down in the bed she shared with Heathcliff. It was seven o’clock in the evening on Winterveil Eve and she was not feeling particularly festive given the recent events. She decided not to think or talk about it all until she was alone with Heathcliff out of the castle on whatever trip he had planned for them.
The pillow was damp with her tears which came regardless of her avoidance of the thoughts that crept in at the corners, an infestation of guilt, self loathing and fear. She dozed off and on and refused to dream. Manus’s presence in her mind when she slept was shut out, ignored. Her mind was her own, a fortress of heartbreak for her to endure alone.
“Lillandyr,” came a little whisper and a dip in the mattress.
Half asleep, she ignored it.
“Lillandyr,” came the whisper again, tinged with anxiety. A woman’s voice.
She could feel the warmth of another body sidle up to her. “Lillandyr.”
Fuck’s sake.
Small, cold fingers touched her bare shoulder. “Lillandyr.”
All right, it was annoying now and the light tapping accompanying the plaintive murmur of her name filled her with a sudden, boiling, murderous rage. With a snarl, she rolled over and sat up, dislodging the interloper who squeaked and fell backwards on her backside, wool skirts and crinoline puffed up around her legs comically.
Seralah blinked owlishly at her with doe eyes fixed on her bare chest. Her cheeks went scarlet and she looked up at the ceiling to preserve Lillandyr’s modesty. “Oh no! I am sorry.” Her small, nervous hands gathered up the silk sheets and thrust them at Lillandyr.
”They’re just tits,” she huffed, raking a hand through the wild tangle of her gilded hair. She swatted away Sera’s hands and found her crumpled, silk robe and shrugged that on instead.
“Yes. Yes they are tits. However, I didn’t mean to…see them. Apologies. This is a dire emergency. I don’t know who else to ask. You are the only one who can help me.” Seralah was…
Crying. A lot. Her eyes were red and puffy and big, fat tears slid down her cheeks and dripped off her chin.
Mashing the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaning, Lillandyr wasn’t sure she could handle another emergency. There’d been nothing but fucking emergencies since she’d arrived at the castle. “What’s the matter?” She finally asked, wrinkling her nose at the emotional display, shoulders tensed.
Seralah twisted her fingers in her lap as she sat on the edge of the bed. “This is very embarrassing.”
Lillandyr made a face.
“Look at my dress. Make an assessment,” Seralah blurted.
Seralah Bloodhaven was a very pretty woman. She looked like a little doll with her huge eyes, very pale skin and delicate features. She also looked far younger than she was and the dress wasn’t doing her any favors. It was cut in such a way to conceal the lithe figure underneath. From chin to ankle just a wall of black wool.
“It’s an ugly fucking dress,” Lillandyr said, reaching blind for the smokes Heathcliff left on her beside table. She knew he did so she didn’t need to look. She set one between her teeth and willed it to light.
Seralah nodded. “Yes. It’s ugly isn’t it? Not flattering. I’ve always dressed this way. My mother really…was very intense about modesty and I just like it. It feels very safe. Like a hug.”
Lillandyr groaned, features softening despite herself. She hated that Sera was an adorable person. It made it impossible to hate her and she really wanted to hate her. Lilladyr’s brow crinkled, she was missing something. “Wait. Wait,” she said, inhaling the caustic smoke, feeling the blood thistle smooth her edges. “What’s the emergency?”
”I don’t feel pretty,” Seralah said, bottom lip wobbling. “And I don’t…I suppose I could ask Manus to dress me but…he keeps putting me in very strange outfits because I think he’s annoyed with me. I don’t think he likes Winterveil, a real bah humbug.”
Lillandyr arched a brow. Most would tell Sera that not feeling pretty did not constitute an emergency, but Lillandyr understood this perfectly. “Well. You ARE pretty. We could dress you in a potato sack and you’d be pretty, but…I suppose I wouldn’t feel very fetching in that black shroud you’ve put on. It looks itchy.”
Sera nodded, snuffling. “It’s very itchy, yes.” She paused and then burst into a fresh wave of tears. “You’re so beautiful and glamorous. I just gasp every time I see you. You look smart and interesting. Sharp and clever. I look like a fourteen year old going to a funeral.”
Flattery got Seralah everywhere and Lillandyr hmm’d. “That’s a bit harsh,” she said, warming immediately. She took her smoke and stuffed it between Sera’s lips. “Relax. Stop crying. Who told you that bullshit?”
”My cousins,” she said, coughing lightly and pretending to inhale.
“Your cousins are being bitches. They’re probably mad about something else or jealous. Or stupid. I don’t know. Anyway…I can help.” All of her troubles melted away for these precious moments. Lillandyr wasn’t going to think deeply as to the why of it. It sounded uncomfortable and antithetical to her being.
Lillandyr studied Seralah, cocking her head to the side. “You should wear jewel tones. Especially emerald green. Velvet. Silk is too slutty for you.”
Seralah handed Lillandyr the blood thistle cigarette back, clearly not enjoying it. “I do like velvet. And green.”
”What’s the occasion?” Lillandyr asked. “We’re going to overdress for it anyway, but I’m nosey.”
Seralah smiled in pleasure, flushing, lowering her lashes girlishly. “I am giving Aronsen his Winterveil present.” Her shoulders drew up and she looked shy but about to bust with excitement anyway.
“What’s the gift? I bet he was hard to shop for. I wouldn’t have a clue what to get him. A hat? I don’t know. I’m bad at gifts.” Lillandyr finished off the smoke and made it disappear. Ashtrays were stinky.
Seralah looked up, face flushed, eyes bright. It was nice to see color on her face. Lillandyr had thought she’d been looking sickly. Sera drew something small out of her vest pocket and thrust her hand out. In it, was a ring of true silver with a dark metal band in the middle, iron possibly. “I couldn’t manage to drain enough of my blood to make the entire thing out of iron, but I think the sentiment is clear.”
Lillandyr recoiled a little. “What?!”
”The iron band in the middle is made from the iron in my blood. It took two liters. An elf’s body contains approximately five liters of blood so it was…well…I would have died if I’d made the entire thing out of iron. I hope he doesn’t see it as a half measure.”
Lillandyr gingerly took the ring and examined it, a little horrified, but impressed. “He’s gonna scold you for it but he’ll love it.” She laughed a little. “He’ll say yes.”
”I hope so. I think it’ll improve my chances if I look my best,” Seralah said earnestly, eyes brimming with tears again. “I love him very much. I know it’s too soon, but…I don’t care.”
Lillandyr shrugged. “You just know. I think you could show up in rags covered in dirt, but…let’s make you look devastating. Gorgeous. Sexy.”
Sera nodded. “Yes I want to be very sexy. Which is why you must help me because you are very sexy. Even now! I don’t know how you do it.”
Preening, Lillandyr basked in the little girl crush Seralah had on her and handed back the precious ring. When one was in love, seeing someone else in love was…nice. Cute. It made her insides feel like they’d been filled with champagne, bubbly and warm. “I don’t have the energy to explain it, but I can dress you the same way Manus can. I have this magic. So, don’t freak out. Close your eyes.”
Seralah obeyed, spine straight, hands demurely folded in her lap. She shut her eyes.
Lillandyr found it both fun and remarkably easy to conjure the perfect dress for Seralah. Sure, she could have put her in a slinky party dress that plunged scandalously low, but…that wasn’t Sera. Sera was sweet, but a little strange. Like a picnic in a graveyard.
The bodice had a sweetheart neckline, showing just enough chest to be enticing. It hugged her slender torso and the gathered bustle of emerald velvet over the mermaid tail skirt was perfect. Princess sleeves trimmed in black lace and a capulet of more of the same intricate, dark lace covered her shoulders, but left her neck bare.
It only took Lillandyr seconds. Then Seralah gasped as she felt the cold, heavy weight of perfect, dark green emeralds settle against her throat. They hung from her ears and settled on her fingers.
Seralah had lovely eyes, so Lillandyr lined these in kohl with a thought, smudging it artfully with a sweep of shimmering, emerald powder on the lids. Her lips she left bare, just glossy. Soft, peachy pink blush warmed her cool features and contrasted deliciously with all the green.
Her hair…was too severe so Lillandyr just gave her bangs. A bit of a gamble as she didn’t think she could regrow someone’s hair, but it worked perfectly. It preserved the charming, doll-like quality while maturing her a little at the same time. With a musical hmm she made messy, soft curls to spill around her face and shoulders.
“All done,” Lillandyr said, plucking up another blood thistle cigarette. “If you don’t like it, I can try something else but I think you’re stuck with the bangs.”
Seralah excitedly slid off the bed and rushed to the bathroom to look in the mirror. Lillandyr’s lips curled in a smug grin when she heard the gasp, then the exclamation of pleasure. She expected this.
What she did not expect was for Sera to hurry back and throw her arms around her and kiss her cheeks and cry. “Oh, Lillandyr! This is perfect. I look…so pretty. I feel so pretty! Thank you!”
Lillandyr stiffened and scoffed and waved her off. “Settle down. You’ll ruin your make up.” She paused, looking petulant and annoyed, but feeling…traitorous affection. “You look amazing. Now. Go get him.”
She reached up and gave Sera’s cheek a pinch which made the other woman giggle and squeeze her tight before dashing off.
Lillandyr sighed, charmed despite herself. Excited for Aronsen. He deserved that kind of love. Even if it was a little intense…aggressive even. He needed to be shown and not be second choice for once.
Feeling saintly, Lillandyr conjured herself cake for breakfast at seven thirty in the evening, her spirits much improved.
