Belinda gasped as the Lycan took her lips in a violent kiss. He kissed her roughly and persistently, never affording her the time to breathe. When he nipped her lower lip, a breathy sigh escaped her, and he took that opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues met in a passionate dance, stroking, caressing, and curling against each other. Till now, Belinda hadn't realized how much she missed the taste of him. She loved it when he was like this—when he kissed her till everything else faded away. Automatically, her body reacted, her back curving so her chest met his. His biceps flexed as supported his body over as, so as not to crush her with his far greater weight. Her fingers found the bunched muscles, her nails scratching down his arms. A deep guttural growl reverberated through Draven's chest at the possessive action. He felt as though his muscles were on the verge of breaking, especially the swollen one between his legs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
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
Belinda gasped as the Lycan took her lips in a violent kiss. He kissed her roughly and persistently, never affording her the time to breathe. When he nipped her lower lip, a breathy sigh escaped her, and he took that opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues met in a passionate dance, stroking, caressing, and curling against each other. Till now, Belinda hadn't realized how much she missed the taste of him. She loved it when he was like this—when he kissed her till everything else faded away. Automatically, her body reacted, her back curving so her chest met his. His biceps flexed as supported his body over as, so as not to crush her with his far greater weight. Her fingers found the bunched muscles, her nails scratching down his arms. A deep guttural growl reverberated through Draven's chest at the possessive action. He felt as though his muscles were on the verge of breaking, especially the swollen one between his legs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd
For the next few days, Belinda and Draven stayed with each other, doing nothing in particular, never leaving the penthouse. Draven had made it clear he did not wish to be disturbed—on any grounds—so no one breached his privacy, even to discuss business. Food was brought up to them, and when they were done eating, the plates were taken away. During that period, they spent most of their time in the bedroom. Mostly, they were silent, cuddling under the covers of the large bed. They could go that way for hours, never saying a word, because the silence was comfortable, and just being in each other's presence was enough. Sometimes, they talked. The topics were usually light, enough to make Belinda giggle and draw a smile from Draven. Occasionally, they addressed more somber issues. Like the dark years that had seen the Sorcerer Clan war, and what it had been like for him to live so long, watching everyone else die and new people be born. They never discussed anything important. Not once d
Draven held Belinda close to himself, providing her comfort with his mere presence. He let her cuddle into him, waited till she stopped trembling, and eased into him. On the outside, he appeared calm and collected—powerful. On the inside though, his mind was whirling with questions, like for one... Why did Belinda smell strangely identical to Eudora? That had been the only difference. The one thing that had differentiated his mistress from the love of his life had been their distinct scents. However, as he'd made his way to Belinda, a burst of magic had exploded, the very same moment the scent he'd been following changed. He'd witnessed as the very scent that marked Belinda morphed, mixing with a subtle fragrance that turned her into someone entirely different. Someone who smelled like his Eudora. Her wolf had awakened, that much Draven could tell. Even in his arms, she still retained her werewolf form, her claws and fangs refusing to retract. But that didn't explain the electrifyin
The cold concrete came in contact with Belinda's palms and despite her feeble resistance, it pushed them backward, towards her chest. She gasped when there was nowhere left for her hands to go, the wall now touching her breasts. The pressure on her chest grew insistent, suffocating her lungs and making it hard to breathe. A strangled cry escaped her when a sharp pain shot through her, torching all her nerve endings. She heard the bones break, felt her ribs pierce her flesh. This was it, then, she thought. She really was going to die. Tears welled up deep inside Belinda, fighting to flow down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to her fate. Despite going back in time, despite doing it all over again, she still died at the hands of her family. Even when given a second chance, she still lived a pathetic life. Derek was having a hard time looking for Belinda. He was beginning to wonder if hiding his scent was worth it, because he could hardly smell anything with the perfum
Paul stood in the foyer of the mansion, feeling smug and confident in his own capabilities. He'd taken care of the root of his problems, snipped his troublesome sister right in the bud. Now, all that was left was to replenish his lost wealth. Ideas ran through his head. Yes, he could do that. By the end of the year, he would be out of bankruptcy, stable enough to chase more profitable business ventures. And in five years' time, he would have made enough to be counted as Chicago's youngest and richest billionaire once again. He was still daydreaming about his future riches when a henchman ran into the foyer. He, and the two guards at his sides, turned to face the man who had just entered the room. The man's anxious expression caught their attention, as they wondered what could make a grown man lose his cool that much. They didn't have to wait long to get an answer. "Sir, we've been compromised." The henchman panted, indicating that he'd run here. "The house is surrounded."Paul f
Belinda strained to see in the darkness, the only source of light being the small crack where the two walls met. Feeling the cold concrete, she searched for a way out, maybe a secret lever hidden on the inside. She found none, and not surprisingly. She suspected that the space had been designed to keep people in, not let them out. Giving up for the time being, she directed her gaze to the room. She already knew it was empty, from the time Paul had opened it. It was windowless, empty, and very small. Not for the first time, she wondered what it was for. The large smudges on both walls caught her eye. Squinting, she peered at one. The stain spanned most of the wall, several shades darker than the unpainted concrete. Belinda placed her hands on it and immediately recoiled. It had felt disgusting under her palms, its raised surface rough and dry. What had been smeared on these walls? The question was added to her long list about this place. As if to reply, a harsh and loud grating sound
Draven sat in the back of his SUV, the aura around him likable to a stormy night in the middle of an ocean. He was waiting, and he hated it. The longer his subordinates took to report back to him, the more restless he grew. His body vibrated with barely contained power, his gaze darker than the moonless sky. A moment later, his phone vibrated in his pocket and his expression never changing, he pulled it out. He swiped the screen, picking the call, and put the phone to his ear. "We've located Miss Knight, my lord." A deep voice droned into his ear an instant later. Draven listened to the address that came next, one he wasn't familiar with, then tilting his head towards his driver, repeated it. "How long is it from here?" The man behind the wheel hastily imputed the location into the car's GPS, and was provided with an answer soon after. "30 minutes, my lord. It's just on the outskirts of the city." Armed with information, Draven resumed the conversation with the one on the ph
Belinda's blacked-out mind gave way to consciousness, and the first thing she became aware of was the merciless throbbing In her forehead. Her entire body ached, as though her nerves were fighting a battle against her—and winning. Instinctively, she tried to find a position that was not so uncomfortable, but she felt like a log—too heavy and stiff to move. She realized then that despite her eyes being open, all she could see was pitch black. Her guess was that she was blindfolded, judging by the slight pressure around the diameter of her head, but she couldn't be sure. When she attempted to lower her hands to check, however, she met resistance. Without sight or mobility, Belinda had only intuition to use to assess her situation. She deduced that she was being pinned to a wall, both her hands held high above her head with handcuffs. Her bottom sat on a cold concrete floor, the dew on the surface seeping into her shorts and soaking it. She was alone, as far as she could tell, and in a
Draven never locked his doors, because every living being in the building knew to never disturb him without being summoned first. The only exclusion was his Beta, who he'd grown quite fond of over the decades. That privilege did not yet extend to his Beta's son and successor. The boy knew that, yet he walked through the front doors of the penthouse uninvited. And what was worse, he'd brought company. Dropping all he was doing, Draven leaned back into his chair, waiting for the trio to arrive. They found him soon enough, halting in front of his office's door. A soft knock sounded a second later, but the show of courtesy did little to lighten his mood. "May we come in, my lord?" Marcus' clear voice rang from behind the door. "You seem to have already come to a conclusion on that." The annoyance wasn't lost in Draven's reply. It should have been to scare them off, to give them the hint that he was not in the mood to entertain any guests. Yet, the wood swung open, ushering thr