Draven's phone rang, and he raised his hand to silence the men sitting before him. They were all dons of the underworld, but they knew to keep quiet when the man in the tailored black suit told them to keep quiet. Usually, no one bothered the Lycan on these kinds of trips, but he'd specifically ordered Marcus to contact him the instant news developed on Belinda's condition. Therefore, when he saw it was his Beta-in-line calling, he raised the phone to his ear. "Is she awake?" It was the first thing he asked, because that was the only thing he wanted to know. "Yes," Marcus' voice came through the phone. "but I can't be sure. She's missing, my lord." Sharp shock coursed through Draven, but he effortlessly maintained his composure. The only indication that his mind was spinning was the darkening of his gaze. "What do you mean missing?" The ears across the table were piqued at the word ‘missing’, the dons' instinctive nosiness making them wonder what the topic over the phone w
Belinda was dying. She could feel her lungs giving way, the air in them finally exhausted. Her nerves had gone numb from the freezing temperature, and her hand ached from all that struggle to swim to the surface of the water. The cannonball at the end of the chain clamped around her ankle held her at the bottom of the river, however. She'd tried to free herself from the device, but she hadn't been strong enough. Nothing she ever did was enough. Giving up on holding her breath, Belinda let the water flow into her from every opening in her body. How had she gotten here? That was right, she'd had this coming for a while now. It would have eventually ended this way—her life was a tragedy bound to be closed in misery. Could she remember the last time she had been happy? She could, but it was so long ago. Most of her memories were either tainted with misery or anger. Had she ever done anything to deserve it? Nothing she knew of. As her body grew limp and stopped moving altogether, Belinda
"What in the moon goddess' name are you wearing?" Cecily placed a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh on entering the bedroom. She herself was dressed in a stylish white dress, one which looked suspiciously like a wedding gown, but Belinda decided not to comment on it. She would not give Cecily the satisfaction of knowing she was annoyed. Sashaying to Belinda, Cecily invaded the other's personal space by hooking an arm around Belinda's. She brightened her smile, and Belinda could have sworn that if she smiled any wider, her cheeks would tear. "Don't let it bother you. You look pretty no matter what." Cecily tapped her hand reassuringly over Belinda's. Only an expert would have detected the hidden layer of viciousness in the compliment, and that was exactly what Belinda was. She wasn't fooled, but she felt no anger toward Cecily either. In fact, at this point, the younger woman's silly games had become amusing. "Really, you're so lucky." Cecily let go of Belinda's han
Silence fell over the ballroom like the mist of the morning dew. All watched for Belinda's reaction, but the latter remained calm and unmoving. She gazed steadily at Derek, her eyes revealing none of her thoughts. At a point, Derek grew very uncomfortable. He looked away awkwardly, his hand moving to rub the back of his neck. "Please say something, Belinda." He finally turned back to her, his hazel eyes twinkling with what appeared to be remorse. "Please. I don't want to hurt you... or break your heart. I just—there's no easy way to break off an engagement, is there?" "So... You're rejecting me?" Belinda asked, her voice lacking any emotion. Stunned by her directness, Derek blinked stupidly. "What? No—I mean—yes! I'm really sorry, Belinda."His apology was ignored. Snapping her head to face her brother, Belinda fixed a vicious glare at the alpha of the Chicago Pack. Her countenance remained cold, but the venom in her eyes made up for the hostility her facial expression lacke
"Why are you acting all righteous now? You haven't been very kind to her either. Have you forgotten, you were the one that poisoned and killed her brother, your own son?"Belinda could hardly believe her ears. No, there had to have been a mistake. She must have overheard wrongly. Her family was cruel, but they weren't bloodthirsty. They would never go as far as murdering their own blood. Every muscle, bone, and vein in Belinda's body shook. They wouldn't. They couldn't. Right? That day was still so fresh in her mind—the day her twin brother had died. He'd suffered for weeks, so weak that he couldn't so much as get out of bed. Belinda had had to take care of him because no one else in the family would. She'd fed him, bathed him, and ensured he'd taken his medicine. She'd been 15 years old then—a young girl who was losing the one person who loved her and she loved back. Belinda remembered holding tightly to Baron's hand on his last day on earth. They'd both known he didn't have mu
Why was Cecily in front of her? Why was she in her bedroom? How could Cecily speak to her so casually after what she had done? Belinda had so many questions, but at the moment, she was preoccupied with one thing—protecting herself. Still facing Cecily, her fingers searched her bedside table for anything she could use as a weapon, and they curled around a sharpened pencil. The writing utensil might not do much to hurt a werewolf, but it would distract Cecily enough for Belinda to escape. "The dress looks a bit off on you, but it doesn't matter because it's just right for the occasion." Cecily clapped her hands together in delight. Belinda's facial features squeezed into a confused frown. "What?" "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet." Cecily folded her arms and pouted. "It's obvious Derek intends to propose tonight. He bought you a dress, told you to wear the dress, and is having dinner with our family." Her words only angered Belinda the more. "What are you talking
Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Belinda played with her engagement ring while battling with her thoughts. She was trying to wrap her head around the fact she'd traveled back in time. Really, it didn't sound out of place in a world where werewolves, vampires, and witches existed, but it was still overwhelming. One minute, she was drowning, the next, she was repeating an engagement that happened months ago. But how had she done it? Belinda absentmindedly slid the ring up and down her finger. She couldn't remember anything that would explain how she'd gone back to the past, but for a second, at the bottom of the river, she'd felt her wolf. She was certain of it—her powers had awakened whilst she fought for her life in those waters. Then why couldn't she feel anything now? Belinda tried communicating with the beast inside her, but all she got was silence. Had her wolf really gone dormant after finally awakening? Closing her eyes, Belinda massaged her temple in frustration. Her wolf was
With a flashlight in hand, Belinda walked down the stairs leading to the villa's wine cellar. She briefly gazed at the countless bottles filling the many racks in the large underground space, some over a century old. The Knight family boasted one of the most exotic wine collections in the country, but it was not why Belinda was here. Moving to a rack at a far corner of the cellar, she pushed down a bottle, and a wall slid away to reveal more stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was an iron door. The door was locked, but Belinda had learned how to pick locks as a kid. She'd been more mischievous than her brother, and infinitely more bored. After a few twists with a hairpin, the door swung open, and she stared at a smaller basement lined with more racks, but rather than wines, they were occupied by boxes. Belinda smiled to herself. She knew more secrets of the Knight family than anybody gave her credit for. Entering the room, she stuck her hand into one of the many unsealed boxes and p
Draven's phone rang, and he raised his hand to silence the men sitting before him. They were all dons of the underworld, but they knew to keep quiet when the man in the tailored black suit told them to keep quiet. Usually, no one bothered the Lycan on these kinds of trips, but he'd specifically ordered Marcus to contact him the instant news developed on Belinda's condition. Therefore, when he saw it was his Beta-in-line calling, he raised the phone to his ear. "Is she awake?" It was the first thing he asked, because that was the only thing he wanted to know. "Yes," Marcus' voice came through the phone. "but I can't be sure. She's missing, my lord." Sharp shock coursed through Draven, but he effortlessly maintained his composure. The only indication that his mind was spinning was the darkening of his gaze. "What do you mean missing?" The ears across the table were piqued at the word ‘missing’, the dons' instinctive nosiness making them wonder what the topic over the phone w
At first, when Belinda woke up, she was confused. Clutching the duvet to her chest, she sat up on the bed, taking a look around at her surroundings. It took a while for her to recognize the luxurious furniture, the painting on the wall, and the curtains. However, the familiarity of her bedroom didn't give her any comfort. Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Belinda relived the nightmare she'd endured while unconscious. Over and over again, she'd dreamt of the cottage in the woods, and the orchard where she and her brother had played in as children. They'd both been in their werewolves forms, and that was what perplexed Belinda. It was common for werewolves at that age to have awakened their wolves, but she and Baron were omegas doomed to have dormant wolves. They'd never so much as communicated with the beast inside them. Belinda wondered then if her vision had only been a figment of her imagination. Had her mind been playing tricks on her again, like the time she'd hallucinated ab
Lexie sat on the bed, gazing down as her friend lay beside her, unconscious and helpless, with the duvet pulled up to her shoulders. Belinda's pale and flawless skin had always been one of her striking features, but her current pallor was all wrong. Her skin appeared pasty and damp, her lips had lost their vibrant reddish color, and bags had formed under her eyes. She looked sick. Worry curled Lexie's heart and moved up to sting her eyes. Belinda looked like she was in a lot of pain. The sound of the door creaking distracted Lexie. Wiping the tears off her cheeks, she sniffed in whatever one still threatened to fall, before turning to check who was coming in. Luisa stepped into the bedroom, her gaze first running over the woman lying on the bed, before raising to the woman sitting at her side. Both were a pitiable sight, so she gave the conscious a small smile, hoping the gesture did anything to reassure her. "How is she?" Luisa's voice was low and gentle as closed the door softl
They heard him as he came down the hallway, his shoes an angry sound on the tiled floor. Instinctively, the members of the Knights & Co. managerial board sat up straighter in their seats, tidying up their outfits and arranging the documents on the large rectangular table. The double doors to the board room burst open, and Paul Knight walked in, trailed by his beta. They could feel the malevolence radiating from him, almost as clearly as the chill air of the air conditioner itself. He had come for blood, and they knew it. All smartly standing, they simultaneously bowed at their waist. "Welcome, Alpha Paul!" Paul sat at the head of the meeting table, with Derek taking the seat at his right. His features hard, he took a look around at his directors. They squirmed under his gaze, all avoiding eye contact. Once he'd had his fill of studying the guilty face before him, he relaxed into his chair, his fist supporting his head. "James." He called, and the man bearing the name jerked.
Inserting the key into the keyhole, the police officer unlocked the heavy metal door to the cell. The door swung open with a loud creak, but he chose to stay outside to guard the entrance, while the visitor walked right in. On entering the small room, Derek looked around. The cell was said to be the best in the prison, yet it was quite the dump. Paul sat on the hard narrow bed, facing the small barred window for the bit of light it let through. He was trimming his beards with the shaving stick he apparently wasn't allowed to keep, but was given anyway because he was a favored inmate, a small mirror in hand. "Good afternoon, sir." Derek bowed at his waist. "I brought the suit you asked for." "I see you've finally come to see him." Paul didn't turn around, therefore looking ominous as he spoke. The result was Derek swallowing heavily. He'd known his boss was bitter when he'd received a call from the lawyer, Voss, delivering the errand to fetch his best suit for this day. The
Belinda gaped as several attendants rolled racks and racks of dresses into the room, each one more glamorous than the last. The manager apparently took his job seriously, for his devotion was evident as he barked orders at the much younger and jumpier employees. When Belinda had said she wanted to go shopping, she hadn't meant like this. While she enjoyed buying fashion items, she was still sane about it. These people were not. In a space of minutes, the large room exclusive to the most VIP of clients, was filled. Every form of clothes, shoes, and accessories littered every possible surface, so much that she wondered if the entire store had been emptied for her. Her mad stylist had other concerns, however. Haughtily snapping his fingers, the manager summoned two of his attendants. "Sisi! Lulu! Bring the Versace numbers 28 and 43 over here." Nearly, Belinda laughed at all the sass the man was displaying, her hand covering her smiling lips. She failed to hold in a chuckle at the emp
Belinda didn't wear back her panties. In truth, she had no idea where they were. Deciding she could search for them later, she left for her bedroom, where she removed whatever piece of clothing she still had on and entered the shower. It wasn't that she had a problem with the scent of sex on her—she liked it even—but it wasn't something she wanted people to smell just by being near her. After the quick bath, she went ahead to get decent, putting on a chic pink button gown. She decided she would forgo makeup, but she did give herself a final check-up in front of the mirror. The Lycan was waiting for her in the living room, his posture relaxed as he went through his phone. He looked up from the device as she walked in, his gaze then running down her slender form. The appreciative look he gave her proved he liked what he saw. "Are you wearing underwear?" Draven asked, his deep baritone voice husky. Belinda realized that, once again, she was not wearing panties. She'd forgotten to
Belinda sat on the Lycan's desk in his home office, her legs spread wide and her chest pushed forward. She was panting, her fingers digging into the wood of the desk, and her body quivered. Color stained the pale skin of both her cheeks, and her lower lip was an even deeper red, thanks to the teeth that were biting down hard on it. She wanted to moan out loudly, but the Lycan had ordered her not to make a sound. He was on a call, and he would absolutely not tolerate any disturbances. "Yes... Get it done immediately... That won't do." Draven expertly held a completely coherent conversation while pounding three of his large fingers in and out of Belinda. Her body writhed, and her hips grinding maniacally against the wood of the desk. She felt as though she was in another world, a paradise where desire, seduction, and wicked pleasure ruled. Just when she was certain she couldn't take anymore, her eyes flew open. Sparks torched her nerves, threatening to explode into what she suspec
Gazing at the racks in front of him, Derek buried his nose in the crook of his arm, to protect himself from the stench of silver. Just as he'd suspected, the number of boxes had reduced by approximately half, but that still left many. Being surrounded by the one element that could permanently harm him rattled his nerves, but he'd come here on important business. As the charity gala had been a dead end, he now needed to find new clues. Regrettably, that meant coming back here. With a disgruntled sigh, Derek lowered his hand from his face and reached into his pockets. He brought out a pair of leather gloves, which he wore over each hand. Protected and equipped, he began searching through the boxes. If there was one thing that was certain, it was that the weapons weren't made in the Knight family villa. That meant the Knights were only middlemen. If he could find who the producers were, then maybe he could find the final consumers. That was easier said than done, though. In the boxes w