“We represent the United League of Werewolves based in Chrysalis.”The man that introduced himself as Fredric begins.“Have you heard of us?”The league was akin to the council, only they worked for all werewolves and sometimes in tandem with humans and other leagues like witches, vampires, or dragons to maintain a good relationship between the two.They were bigger than a kingdom or pack, contained mostly geniuses or highly gifted individuals, and were somewhat above laws because they were the law.After placing the flower on the eighth coffin and paying my respects, my gaze turns to the two men.They were young, far too young to be part of an organisation that has existed since the primitive years.“Go on. It might be in your best interest to speed up the conversation; after all, you only have …”I turn my gaze to my basket, and…it is still full.Great“Thirty flowers left?”Benson adds before straightening his glasses.“You give each coffin approximately two minutes, and by that ra
The sun is out now, and the day is no longer gloomy. It no longer feels as if the entire Ketria is in mourning.“What happened to your dress? Did you fall?”Marko’s question causes my gaze to move to my dress before the memory of the angry little one finds me again.A smile plays on my lips.Children are quite honest with their emotions and vulnerabilities. Will mine be like that?Christ, I am both terrified and excited.“Fall? No, I just brushed up on something.”“Here.”He says as he offers a flask and leans on one of the gravestones in the cemetery.The speech part of the ceremony is over, so most of the guests have left for the meal portion of the event in the palace.I want to ask why he is still here, but I know the answer has to be me.Either that, or my head is getting too big for my body.“What is inside?”I ask as I take the flask without awaiting his answer.“It’s a pain killer.”“A pain killer?”I repeat.“What the hell kind of painkiller is in a flask.”“What the hell kin
The grave plaque inside the royal mausoleum is a beautiful white, gold and blue. Exclusive and exquisitely fit for royalty. So why is Mother’s name still etched onto it? “I asked that you be moved outside the royal mausoleum when I requested your divorce, but I guess Ninko wanted to be buried next to you.” I utter as I shut the door of that specific slot allocated to their generation in the ancestral line. “I am going to be honest and say I could care less where you ended up. I’d probably hire people to pee on your grave too.” There is no response; of course, there isn’t. It would be a problem if there were one. “I never in my life thought I would be here. You cannot really bury the problems the dead stirred, just the dead, huh?” A sigh slips from my lips as I settle next to a white marble sarcophagus opposite Mother’s, which rests atop Ninko’s. “Dying should come with a disclaimer. deaths only solve part of the problem or the cause of the problem; the things they stir still r
"So, I tell you I'm pregnant, and the first place you take me is a nightclub?"“Technically.”Violet begins.“You said two things, that you are pregnant and that you are leaving for Chrysalis, plus this isn’t a club, it’s a lounge, and we are in the VIP section, meaning it is technically a fancy café that sells booze.”“Stay classy, Violet.”I utter, and she winks in response before raising a finger at the waiter behind me.She was right; even the lighting was bright and the music soft, unlike in a club, but in a club, I would not be recognised, whereas here, the gazes from across the room burn.For the nth time, I shift in the silk of my gown.I am not showing; hell, other than nausea, I still resemble myself; but I keep feeling as though something within me screams ‘pregnant’.Perhaps why I decided to push up my departure.I have two days left in Ketria, well considering it is eight p.m., I only have tomorrow, a day that I intend to spend with Marko.It is no coincidence that I chos
A reply to Marko’s posed question barely leaves my lips when the scent of mint and eucalyptus fills the lounge, followed by murmurs and... people bowing.He couldn't have…My denial is cut short by his sight at the VIP entrance.How did he even know where I-Ah...the bond.A path seems to have formed between him and me, for our gazes hold with too much ease.From where I stand, I can smell his shower gel. His wear is too casual for one who was working. Still, he looks far too sexy in the grey sweatpants he has on.I hate that the word 'mine’ dangles at the tip of my tongue when the women beside him flush at his mere presence.His hand pressing his phone to his ears lowers before he hangs the call and motions for me to come to him.My gaze scans for Violet, but she isn't even in the vicinity.God damn witch!With only anxiety writhing through my being, I slide my phone into my purse and comply with his request.The lounge is far too silent; even the music seems to have stopped as every
“But I shouldn’t feel this way if I am to be your mistress. In fact, I shouldn’t feel anything for you.” I utter, my hand moving to his chest. I do not know when he got this close that I can brush myself against him, or when the tension between us grew threatening. I do not even know when my eyes grew trained on the pink suppleness of his lips under the front garden lights. I do not know why he always stirs my deviancy. His scent is sharper now; I can feel it on the back of my throat despite us being outside with the cold wind blowing by. Yes, his scent’s dangerous effect on me should not excuse why my breakup with him has me pressing the sex between my thighs for relief. I want to pull him to me, to taste him, devour him; he is mine, damn it…I should be with him. especially now that I am more uncertain than ever; but then what? What lies after our next argument? Another national tragedy? Another attack or kidnapping strengthened by our inability to trust each other? What is
“A party?” “Yap, for the end of the season of the production, Magnolia is hosting. You should come.” Janine utters as she removes the last set of jewellery from me. For a minute, my gaze on the dresser reminded me of the forcefulness Marko held me in. The delightful intensity of his silver eyes that held me in the mirror and the foul language that slipped from his lips as he buried himself inside me. A shudder escapes me at the memory. For a man who doesn’t talk much, he is a beast. My teeth find my lower lip as I press my centre harder on the chair, hoping to squelch the throb that came alive. We haven’t talked since then; we either had to film separately, or he had affairs to handle being an A-lister, of course. But if I go to the party then, we can talk and maybe even define this so that I do not have to hesitate to dial his number on my phone. How weird would it be if a one-time thing had the audacity to call from a number she had to get from the director? He is an A-lis
"Hush hush, Milos."I whisper to the fussy bundle of warmth in my arms; he had begun fussing from the second I sprayed my perfume on; either he is allergic, or he understands that I am leaving the house.“Any sign of him settling?”Violet asks as she nears me with a bottle of milk warmed to room temperature.“No, not even a little. Should I stay?”Milos, as if understanding my question to Violet, opens his little hands as if trying to reach me and coos.A warmth melts in my chest before he offers a toothless grin at my ‘aww’.“See, he wants me to stay.”“How many of Marko’s events have you missed? Didn’t the league tell you how many of his men they caught trying to snoop around you? At this rate, he might find out about-”“I know, I know-”I respond with a quick eye roll.“Come on, gimmie Milos, before you change your mind.”Her arms reach for him, but I instinctively cradle him closer to my chest.The sound of the bell interrupts us.“That has to be Beatrice with George and Owen for
And that’s a wrap. The book will be marked as complete soon; I hope you loved both stories, the bonus ( ̄y▽ ̄)╭ ohohoho….. and the main story. Now on the meat of the matter, my next work will be out in late June or Mid-July titled: The Alpha's Ruby Obsession (I think, but most likely.) It will be 18+, not just because of the smut but because it is a little darker than this one, discussing themes to do with suicidal ideations and consent-non-consent relations, but don’t worry, I will tag the concerning chapters. It can be read as a stand-alone, but there are benefits to reading this book first. Lastly, this concerns my other book: Your last lie—please do not purchase it until perhaps next year (Late next year); it was my first book and thus very clumsy, I want to work on it, and if you have it in your library, you can remove it and select it later, the changes should reflect. Thank you for reading and voting for ‘Bound to My Wicked Stepbrother’. I would love to hear more from you; whe
TRIGGER WARNING: CONSENT. The pounding in my head trembles my vision. Christ, I am never drinking again. My struggle to change my position and take advantage of the day is met with a familiar stiffness; only the rattling sounds binding me send my eyes wide open. An unfamiliar room, brightly lit with top wall windows that ensure I cannot see outside, but enough light enters that I can see thousands upon thousands of pictures of me lining the walls. Hah... what the hell? Panic sets in low in my belly as struggle finds my limbs. I do not wish to scream; who knows what I will alert, but the rattling of the cuffs binding my hands and feet to the bed must have awoken something because movement sounds from the other side, beyond the dark staired hallway. It would have been easy to sit upright had it only been my hands bound, but both my hands and feet were chained to the bed, holding me indecently in place and... My clothes are different. "You are up? Good, I brought you some food.
He isn’t coming. I repeat to myself as I splash some more warm water on my face. Ugh, what the hell was that sickly sweet champagne Magnolia guzzled down my throat in ‘celebration’? If she wants me to be drunk and embarrass myself, all she has to do is say that. A sigh escapes me at my tired expression in the bathroom mirror. My face is flushed, yet despite how tipsy I am, the hurt from seeing him arrive with his ‘ex-fiancée’ cut too deep to be blurred with liquor. Ever since the production ended, I woke up to sex dreams where Marko would bind me, trap me somewhere and have his way with me mercilessly. Of course, I would plead that he free me because, let’s face it, I would only plead that he does not touch me so that I could be regarded as sane. Because who in the hell would want to be bound and f*cked mercilessly by someone who all but regarded them as a slut? Guilt always devours me at the end of the vulgar dreams, I guess they are about to worsen now that he is with his ex-f
Marko "Cut”. The director's voice rang for what would be the last time, and applause followed. The moment was bittersweet, but the feel of Alba detaching from him as if he was plagued stung. "Alb-" "Don't...don't say anything, Marko. Let this end." "I don’t want-" "Don't want that?" Again, she interrupted him, finishing his sentence when he did not wish her to. "Marko, you called me a slut a few weeks ago, so let this 'slut' reform her ways, a safe distance from you.” “I never said you were a slut.” “No, you merely said that I spread my legs for anyone who gives me the time of day; if your argument is on semantics, try again." Alba uttered as she moved from him, but her dress, the same ivory gown that stole his chest as she walked down the Aisle, making him wish that for a moment the scene was real and she was his bride, made her curse as she moved. "God damn heels!" She muttered before leaving him...again. Should he manipulate her transport? No, she might not fall for
The ballroom echoed its commotion at Marko’s announcement of me as his future wife and Milos as his heir. I should cease wearing fitting gowns that limit my breathing during balls that I anticipate trouble. Still, his hand on my waist is more intense in this way, even as some show their distaste for our relationship vocally, despite our mention that we were mates chosen by the goddess. The tea party was brutal, but this, having to look in the eyes of hundreds of unsmiling faces as if our lives impacted them more than was appropriate, was a whole other thing. Despite all this, my proximity to Marko keeps me uncaring; but I cannot stop my chest’s clenching. Unlike me, he has cared how others viewed him since his youth, and he has always wanted to be a regal and dignified king framed by perfection. Am I not staining him? Please don't change your mind. Please want me still. Please- A tremble rocks through me at the thoughts chanting ceaselessly in my mind, so I step away from Mark
"Ahh...that hits the spot."Ruby utters as she places her pitcher of cider beer on the table with a thud. Without missing a beat, she turns to the table grill and turns the thinly sliced steaks before they burn.It was amusing watching her eat, actually more than amusing; I keep growing envious of her appetite.Still, how were the Clive illegitimate children treated for her to behave this similarly to Violet and me?While I like her playful maturity, we understand the scars that made us this way.After explaining my dream as the ‘sun’ to her (I am not sure if she believes me or thinks I am crazy), we settle and enjoy each other’s company at the eatery that offers each table a small grill and a wide selection of meats for one to fry up themselves if they do not wish for any item from the precooked menu.It took quite a bit of patience, but I finally finished the steak Violet made for me; it is hard to avoid eating when everything around me smells delicious; hell, even the smoke smelled
The woman’s voice holds remorse so deep that it stills me momentarily; it is only when tears stream down her face, ruining her perfect make-up, that I try my hardest to squat in the tightness of my dress and hold her in my arms, for God knows what reason.A feeling I had not felt since Red Graw dances in my chest."My Su-""I am sorry for the way it ended, my dearest misunderstood crimson moon."My lips utter with a voice that comes from deep within me before a smile tilts the corners of my lips upwards.Despite the smile playing on my face, a deep heaviness feels my chest.“It shall awaken soon; find your centre, my precious blood moon; only then will you find peace.” The moment her head slumps heavily on my shoulders, the ‘enchanted’ feeling dissipates from me before I feel her stiffen in my arms."Oh...oh, you must think I am insane."She whispers through my flesh before she peals away from me, hiding the crimson covering her face.“Help me up?”She asks her chauffeur, who assists
“That’s like saying I do not care for my skin.”The girl Violet converses with responds.“I am not responsible for how you choose to interpret my words.”Christ, Violet.I almost groan, but Georgia yells a question impolitely at me."Is that a ring? Are you engaged, priestess?" Silence follows the words; even the blonde, who almost responded to Violet’s taunt, turns her attention to me.“That’s right; you said you would discuss it inside,”Rebeca chimes.Hesitation echoes within me, I thought I would be amongst friends as I open up about this tender subject, but instead, I feel as if I am-"Yes, uh...I am getting married."I announce into the silence, and gasps follow from the majority of the lips but Rebecca’s."Oh! The Lycan King was carrying a baby in his arms in the papers, perhaps a week back. Was the baby yours? I mean, you did go missing for years after the whole Red Graw saga. Did they… I mean, is that why you are being removed from the royal line."Georgia asks; her brashnes
As opposed to an elegant parlour room, Rebecca escorts us outside to a greenhouse-like place that holds numerous colourful and bright plants that add to the bright aesthetic of the party, and despite being outside, the scent of pastries and tea hang deliciously in the air.My gaze turns to the nearby pond, and it is so clear that I can see my reflection in it, but more than that, I can see the tiredness in Rebecca’s build.I guess all the Clive relatives, regardless of association, had a tough time after Magnolia’s treason.The deeper we walk into the space, the more the sound of laughter and chatter calls to us only; it is not as inviting as she had once presented during the mate ball.“About Magnolia…”I begin, but she turns so suddenly on her track that I wind up trailing my words.“Oh, we are fine. Our relation is only from the maternal side.”What the hell is that supposed to mean?Does it matter from which side your cousins hail?“Anyway, I saw today’s papers; how are you holdin