those with money had power. those with power ruled the lupus colony: the world's largest ruthless pack. with a steady decline of desirable omegas over the years, a breeding program had been established where elite wolves and members of the lupus deus council could bid millions of dollars yearly for a hybrid of their own. a wolf created for the sole purpose of fulfilling her alpha's every desire. but what happens when one wolf escapes after committing a crime punishable by death, only to find protection in the shadow of death himself?
View MorePARISA DREW IN a shallow breath and curled her hands into tight fists, bunching up the silken material of her dress between her fingers to still the diminutive quivers that coursed through them. They shook on their own accord, with or without an audience.She sat ramrod-straight and perched on the edge of the low padded bench, her knees pressed together, one ankle laced over the other and slightly hidden beneath the bench as her eyes fixated on the black and white keys before her.The piano had returned from Germany where it had been taken for restoration. Its silken black colour glossed beneath the afternoon rays of light that slipped through the open window in the parlour.Parisa studied the
IMPORTANT GUESTS would be arriving today.News of their arrival, unbidden to Parisa, would not have had much of an effect had she not woken to an eerily silent mansion at dawn.Lying corpse-still beneath the layers of blankets, she peered at the ceiling in a drowsy haze, her consciousness still drifting beneath a permeable membrane of sleep.The ritualistic sound of children thundering on the grounds had been replaced with a noiselessness that bordered on empty. Was it morning yet?Her head lolled to the side as she inquired the time with a puzzled expression from the clock. The design was minimalistic: a wooden square frame with white luminous numbers.
IMPORTANT GUESTS would be arriving today.News of their arrival, unbidden to Parisa, would not have had much of an effect had she not woken to an eerily silent mansion at dawn.Lying corpse-still beneath the layers of blankets, she peered at the ceiling in a drowsy haze, her consciousness still drifting beneath a permeable membrane of sleep.The ritualistic sound of children thundering on the grounds had been replaced with a noiselessness that bordered on empty. Was it morning yet?Her head lolled to the side as she inquired the time with a puzzled expression from the clock. The design was minimalistic: a wooden square frame with white luminous numbers.
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