"Maddox Hawkmore. Who is he?" Georgina felt the color drain from her cheeks, her complexion dropping several shades. Every muscle in her body went taut, straining as her pupils dilated and her parted lips trembled. Belinda's eyebrows shot up at the intense response her mother had to the mention of a mere name. She looked terrified, and that brought to question why. A second later though, Georgina Knight had re-coordinated herself, but it was too late. Belinda had clearly caught her reaction. "You do know him," Belinda stated what she already knew was true. "Who is he?"Georgina had clearly heard Belinda, but she had questions of her own. Her lips thinning, she stared attentively at her daughter. "How do you know that name?" Belinda crossed her arms over her chest. "I asked first. Shouldn't you answer before interrogating me?"Leaning from her seat, Georgina clamped a fist around Belinda's wrist. "Answer me!" Her loud voice was earnest. "How do you know that name?" The tigh
The news of the arrest of Paul Knight took Chicago by storm. Apparently, their youngest, richest, and most handsome billionaire wasn't a saint. Some didn't mind his crimes. So he hid his money away from the government, who didn't? Then there were those who criticized him mercilessly for it. They were mostly those who were spiteful towards the rich, who felt it was unfair a select few lived in such luxury and extravagance, while they couldn't afford rent. He already had so much, they said, would it kill him to pay his dues to the government? It all should have ended with this simple argument, but then one random reporter from an unknown news outlet published an article reminding people of the Knight Tower scandal. The piece was derogatory, highlighting the rich's habit of trampling on the more unfortunate populace. However, the fire that had lighted the torch was the part where he'd speculated that something terrible had happened to the righteous Fleming couple, especially as they'd m
Lila Salvador sat in her fiancé's study, her naked right foot insolently propped on his desk, and her fingers painting her pretty toenails red. Her silky black hair had been left to flow down her back, and a corner of her gown had slid down one shoulder. She was on the phone, and held the device to her ear with her shoulder. If Paul had been there, he would have killed her for getting so comfortable in his space, but that was the thing... He wasn't there. "I still can't believe it, Erika!" Lila whined into the phone. "They came to the house as late as evening. I'm sure they could have waited till morning, I mean he wasn't going anywhere. Yet, they disrupted my dinner. Couldn't find the appetite to eat again." "The arrest is trending everywhere. Making quite a buzz too." The female voice at the opposite end of the line said. "How are you faring?" "How else? Terribly." Lila was quick to reply. She slabbed a dash of red on her big toe, then leaned back to examine it. Once
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
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
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 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
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
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
Derek returned home well into the night, way past the customary 5 pm. He was newly discovering that a CEO working hard to revive his company was no easy job, and it often left him drained after a long day. Tonight, he heaved a sigh as he removed his suit blazer and pulled off his tie. As he stepped deeper into his apartment, however, he realized that his housemate's scent was way too faint, meaning she wasn't home. That made Derek frown, especially as to how late the hour was. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, absentmindedly strolling into his kitchen as he prepared to call her. That was when his eyes caught a piece of paper pinned onto his counter by a pan. He instinctively picked it up and went through it. “... wish for my own privacy...would appreciate if you respect my wishes.”Anger coursed through Derek at the words in the note. Like hell Belinda had moved out because she wanted “privacy”! She was simply locking him out again. Damn it, she hadn't even had the guts to
After closing the door behind her, Belinda gazed ahead at the room she would now be staying in till further notice. It wasn't the most luxurious quarters, but that was the thing about second-rate hotels—they were just below perfect and affordable.Dragging her luggage along, she advanced deeper into the room. She randomly deposited her bags on the floor and moved onto the bed. The soft mattress jerked as she plopped her bottom onto it, her mind too far gone to notice the bounce. Absentmindedly, she picked up the remote and switched on a channel. Although she gazed at the screen, she was not watching the TV program playing. She was thinking about too many things at once. Slipping out of Derek's apartment had been easy. As the other went to work early in the morning and came back late in the evening, she'd been able to pack her bags and leave without him realizing. She wasn't exactly running away. She'd left a piece of paper on the counter with her new address, which also specified the