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
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.
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
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
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
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