“You want one hundred thousand dollars for your body, fine. Produce me an heir within six months and the money is yours when the baby is born.” The coldness in his voice sends a shiver up my spine. “Are you serious?”“Yes.”“B-but what about the other part of my request?” I stammer out.“What other part?” he asks with his eyebrow raised.I clutch the contract close to my chest. “The part where I get to leave. If I have your baby, Ansel, can I take the money and walk away?”When I was bought at an auction by my ex-boyfriend whom I hadn’t seen for many years, he signed a contract with me, as long as I gave birth to him a child, I could get the money and leave. but after I gave birth, he regretted it.
View More#Ansel’s Epilogue: A New Tomorrow Ansel and Karin waited together on the wings of the stage, listening to the cheers and booming voice over the microphone. Edwin had been removed from the election ballot. The next in-line for the throne, a cousin, replaced him. Ansel won in a landslide. Ansel looked at Karin. She was leaning against her crutches. Her raven hair fell down over her shoulders. Her brown eyes were warm and flecked with gold. “Did I ever tell you,” he said, “How proud I am of you?” A blush came over her cheeks. She raised her eyebrow. “What for?” “You llean into your confidence more and more everyday,” he said. “I always knew you were feisty as shit, but until the day of the attack, when I really saw you in action, I didn’t fully recognize just how courageous and strong you are.” Karin looked down at her feet, hiding a smile. “I was always scared of Ada’s power,” she said. She looked back up at Ansel. “I held her back constantly, but I think I’ve finally learned to
“Do not leave,” Ansel whispers. “Got it?” His voice is a command. I shake my head. Ansel opens his mouth to argue when we hear a cry. The hair stands up on the back of my neck and my stomach lurches. It’s Charles. Without another second, he is out of the room. Ada’s pacing, urging me to go. She pushes against me with such a force, I can’t ignore it. Quietly as I can, I slip out the door and begin to slink down the stairs. As I do, I pick up on the scents of multiple Weres. The alarm bells are ringing, but Ada keeps edging me closer. I hear Ansel’s voice as I continue creeping down the stairway. “Go on,” he shouts. “Give me the ‘bad guy’ exposition, Edwin.” As I tiptoe around the corner, I see Charles, lying still on the ground. Where I would have panicked, Ada is an intense calm. Ansel’s eyes dart over, likely picking up my scent. We make eye contact before he whips his eyes back, so as not to give me away. Then, he mindlinks with me. “Go upstairs.” I don’t argue back. Ho
Ansel Ansel’s eyes flew open and chaos ensued. Filled with adrenaline, he sprang up in the bed, grabbing a masked stranger by the neck. “Lorazepam!” Ansel could not place where he was or what was happening. The lights were blinding and painful. Blue gloves, blue masks, and eyes of strangers encroached him, swirled over him and around him. He felt overwhelmed and attacked. Hands pried Ansel’s hand from the neck. A dozen arms held Ansel back from flinging himself off the bed or doing further damage. Ansel felt something cold in his arm and it spread through his body. A voice chuckled. “I think the atro-corticoid worked a little too well.” Ansel’s fight instinct abated. His body relaxed. The glaring light dissipated and his eyes adjusted. He registered for the first time where he was. A hospital room, with whirs and beeps, white tile floor, the sound of footsteps outside in the hall, and the smell of sickness, chemical cleaners, and grief in the air. Ansel was surrounded by a conce
KarinThe dream flickers away, like a candle blown out. For a moment, I’m filled with terror, afraid that I’ve lost Ansel, but I feel his presence even if I can’t see or hear him. Still, the control and the energy I’m trying to hold on to is quickly fading. It’s twilight. I’m standing outside the sanitorium. I fight it, but I feel myself slipping into a nightmare redux.“My son tells me good things about you.” Sir David looks nothing like Ansel. His hair is gray, his body is imposingly muscular, and his face is weathered and scarred from fights, but it’s the menacing look in his eyes and the hardened expression on his face that’s the real difference.For once, Ada and are in complete agreement on something - we don’t like him. Sir David’s eyeing me. I pull my hair around, making sure to hide Ansel’s bite mark on my neck. I nod my head. “He’s very serious about you,” he says. “Did you know?”I hesitate. A swallow chirps nearby. There’s no one in sight and he scares me. Ada jumps i
Karin“Tick tick tick…” The jet of a sprinkler shoots water across the green lawn, painting a rainbow in the shimmer of water droplets against the morning sun. Henry wakes up to the sound of his wife crying against the closed bathroom door. “Mags?” Silence. Apathy. Untouched plates of food.Henry sits on the porch, wearing a faded Hawaiian shirt with a surfboard print. Maggie’s in a chair across from him, almost unrecognizable with greasy, unwashed hair and wrinkled clothes. He’s made her iced tea. “With a dash of mint,” he says, his tone gentle. Maggie stares ahead. There’s a dead look to her eyes.Leaves crunching. Greased palm. Black car. Maggie’s hollow eyes torment him. He misses when her eyes were alive, when they sparkled with joy, and even when they sizzled in anger at whatever dumb things he did. It’s her eyes that flicker in his mind when he’s approached. ‘I can be a rat,’ he thinks. He says “yes,” without asking the obvious: “Why me?” Later, he will ask himself
The sea is outside. We’re in the bedroom of a small cottage. The door’s open and I can see his mom’s old piano is tucked into the corner of the living room. My ballet shoes sit near the bench.He looks beautiful in the dim light.Everything about Ansel is strong - from the tenor of his voice, his height and broad shoulders, to the muscular lines of his body and the chiseled features of his face.It’s all there - the power of him, the hard lines I resented because he had changed, but his defenses are stripped away, revealing the totality of him and the gentle warmth inside.We’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He tilts his head over to me and smiles, and I like the way his eyes crinkle when he does. I let my head fall against his shoulder. He hums in my ear and loops his index finger around mine.“Is that a new song?”“Just a bit of a melody that popped in,” he says, shr
I stay frozen in my spot. The dream version of Ansel sweeps back a flyaway strand of hair from Zara’s face. My stomach knots itself into a pretzel when she leans in to kiss him. His arms are around her. Her hand is in his hair.My Ansel is as awkward as I’ve ever seen him. He’s looking down, and seems to be holding his breath.Dream Ansel puts on the brakes, pulling back.“What’s wrong,” Zara asks. “Did I… do something?”“No.” He looks frustrated and runs his hands through his hair. “Not at all.” He clears his throat. “I think we need to stay focused,” he says, standing, “On the task at hand.”“That was the extent of it, mostly,” Ansel says next to me, wearing a guilty expression. “This was as close as it got to a rebound.”“I don’t have room to talk,” I say, thinking ashamedly about kissing Ethan. “And, we were broken up.”I blush. “We are broken
“Really?” My heart kicks up a notch. “Why… Why do you want to take me on a date?”“Because you wanted me to,” he says. “Remember?”There’s a lump in my throat as we walk down the sidewalk together.We stop at a cafe. He holds the door for me. I pause just inside, marveling, wide-eyed at the very 1970’s Americana-style diner.I’m in a fringed, suede miniskirt and blouse. Ansel seems to appreciate the skirt. He raises his eyebrows and smiles.He’s wearing an orange, short-sleeve shirt and mustard-colored pants with flared legs.“Think I can pull this off?” He looks down at his clothes.I think he could pull off a flour-sack, but I’m not going to tell him that.We sit down at a table. The booth is vinyl green and the table is
“Final boarding call for Pioneer-Blue, flight 105.”Shit.The gate check-in counter is in sight. I dash to it like I’m in an Olympic relay, ticket in hand. With the other hand, I clutch the duffel bag slung over my shoulder to keep it from clobbering me as I run.I weave my way around other passengers, milling about during their layovers or filing to their own gates, and I race past emergency workers trying to revive Ethan. He’s lying on the floor of the airport, muddied and limp.Ahead, and just to my left, a little boy is watching. He looks small and scared. There are grass stains on his jeans. A bike is laying on the ground next to him.“Last call for flight 105.”“I’m here,” I say, shoving the ticket in front of the worker.She radios to the flight crew and sends me down the jetway
“You brought this on yourself.”My dealer says as the front of his steel toe boot slams into my stomach again. I ball my body, but it doesn’t save me from the continuous force of his fist. His calloused hand grips my hair, and he makes me look him in the eyes.“Was feeding them worth it?”The stench of his breath forms a noxious cloud in the air, and I struggle not to vomit. He points at the terrified caged cubs.“They are our property. That means when we want them fed”—he releases my hair and I crumble back onto the floor—“we will feed them. And when we want them starved, they will starve. Never forget that you are our property, too. You are payment for your father’s debt. So unless you want him to rot in his cell, I suggest you learn to behave.”He grabs my arm and pulls me up to my feet. The buckle of my legs makes him dig his nails into my skin. “Let’s go!” he shouts in my ear.My legs are shaky, but I keep steady as he escorts me to the auction block. The darkened halls of the el...
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