Arthur's POV I found myself strolling through a winter garden. The sun rose high overhead, spreading warmth throughout my body despite the gentle snow falling to the ground. Everything in my surroundings sparkled as if silver glitter had somehow been mixed with the wintry precipitation.I ambled slowly past an ice sculpture, which miraculously bore Catherine's likeness down to the smallest detail. Even the tiny laugh lines around the corners of her mouth stood out in relief. For some reason, I felt as if the statue was purposefully mocking me. Telling me to give up, that my love would always be lost to me. This angered me, and with a muttered curse I drew my broadsword from its sheath. Raising it above my head, it glinted under the rays of the sun as if on fire. Grinning, I brought down my sword and decapitated the effigy in one swift stroke. It had been satisfying to kill her, if only symbolically. But before I could reflect upon why that might be, I heard something that to
Ophelia's POV I awoke early to the aroma of fresh coffee wafting tantalizingly from downstairs. Smiling, I threw on my new black robe and followed the scent to our kitchen table. And to Allen, my friend. I reflected once again, upon seeing him seated at the table with my son, how lucky I was these days. "Good morning, sweetheart," Allen said warmly, offering me a warm smile. "I was just going to bring you some coffee. Are you hungry for some breakfast?" My stomach immediately growled loudly in anticipation, making us both chuckle. I sat down next to my pup, ruffling his hair. Aiden was a year old, and I thanked the Moon Goddess every single day for bringing him into my life. For bringing both men into my life. "I guess that answers that question," Allen replied with a grin, making his way over to the stove. "Belgian waffles and home fries coming right up!" Allen was tall and handsome, with curly dark hair and melting chocolate eyes. Everything about him was warm and
Ophelia's POV In the days following Christmas dinner, Allen was busier than usual. He spent most of his days at the hospital with his patients, sometimes even sleeping at work rather than driving home exhausted after a fifteen-hour shift. "I'm sorry," Allen told me over the phone during one of his infrequent breaks. "The hospital is just insanely busy right now. It seems as if every shifter in the surrounding territories is either sick or injured right now. I have no idea why!" "Maybe it's the full moon," I joked, trying to make light of the situation.I missed Allen, and the more I was alone with my musings, the more my mind and heart turned to Arthur, and what he might be doing. Did he remember me? Or had he forgotten me as quickly as it seemed? "It's not your fault in any case," I continued, trying to hide the disappointment I felt at the thought of spending another day alone. "Your patients are incredibly lucky to have you." "I'll make it up to you, I promise
Ophelia's POV The next day, my head pounding with a dreaded hangover, I decided that there was only one surefire way to get Arthur out of my head once and for all. I was going to get rid of absolutely everything related to him. If I needed him out of my life, and out of my head for good, then I needed to purge it all. Everything must go, I thought irrationally, as I grimaced from the burn of the black coffee I had ingested. All of it. It would be like an exorcism. Only the demon I was desperately attempting to vanquish was my love for Arthur. It might be a tall order, but I had to start somewhere, I thought grimly, using the dregs of the bitter brew to swallow two aspirin. I'd begin with the obvious: the villa key he'd given me, our family photo from that baby store, and newspaper clippings I'd hung up beside my bed for the past year. I was sure there was more, but that was where I would begin. The only problem with my plan was that sorting through these items brought b
Ophelia's POV I had always loved jazz music. It was a passion that I didn't share with most people. It seemed to me that jazz was a polarizing art form. People seemed to either love it or loathe it. And I always seemed to have far too much going on in my life to waste time arguing about its merits with those who fell into the latter category. Nonetheless, from the time I was a child, I would pull on my earphones and be swept away by the sounds of my favorite musicians. Billie Holiday, John Coltrane, and Ella Fitzgerald to name a few. They felt like friends to me. No matter what was happening in my life, I knew that I could always turn to their music in my time of need. Listening to the sweet sound of Coltrane's ‘Cousin Mary’ would always bring me some measure of peace. It was one of the few things I could count on during that dark period of my life. I don't know exactly how it came up in conversation with Allen, but yesterday I confessed to him about this guilty pleasure of
Ophelia's POV The next morning I woke up early and decided to start my day with a cappuccino from my favorite coffee house ‘Rosalyn's’ before rehearsal. As I opened my door I smiled, turning my face to the warmth of the sun. It was a beautiful morning, and I had plenty of time to walk down to my destination before I had to get to work. One of my favorite things about my new home was the variety of charming shops located within walking distance of my house. I passed my favorite bakery ‘Daily Bread’ and deeply inhaled the fragrant aroma of freshly baked bread wafting into the street. I thought about stopping in for one of their luscious croissants but decided against it. Even though my mouth watered at the idea of the flakey, buttery consistency of their pastries, it wasn't practical. I had some time, but not enough to make two trips. And the coffee was non-negotiable if I was going to get through my morning. I always enjoyed practicing my cello, but rehearsal could be in
“Congratulations, bitch, you are about to become Arthur Morgan's sixth wife." Iciness filled my chest as I nearly doubled over in shock. My life was never my own. I was always being pushed around.But that was how life was for me, Ophelia Clark. And the person who was sneering in my face was my stepsister, Margaret Davis. As things stood at the time, I was officially the most hated wolf in my pack.My first shift was when Margaret's husband Mike, the brother of our soon-to-be Alpha, tried to rape me. My wolf had severely hurt him and as a result, I was paying the price. Ever since that day, my pack had mistreated and bullied me. My pain had been going on for weeks, months, or maybe even years. I had lost track by now; it was so regular. But that wouldn’t keep me down.But this contract marriage with Arthur brought things to a brand new level of abuse. I asked in bewilderment, "Wait, Dad sold me to Alpha Arthur?"Before Margaret could answer, I obstinately shook my h
I whimpered in utter disappointment and confusion. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't budge. "I told you she'd run away," said Margaret in a snarky tone. "And look at what happened. You drove her right to me." She held her hand out in a haughty manner. "Just as we planned," replied David with a teasing tone. I began to tremble. I couldn't believe it. David had told our secret to Margaret. "Give it to me. I won," Margaret insisted. "Fine," he conceded, handing over a $20 bill. Watching his emotionless face, my heart sank. He had no guilt or remorse for deceiving me. Behind my back, the two of them had conspired to do this. I felt hopeless as I stared at the gravel pebbles on the pavement. I was worth nothing more than $20 to them. But they could not break my spirit. With renewed resolve, I picked my head up and glared at them. I narrowed my eyes, squinting as rage overcame me. Marching toward them I stood squarely. "So that's all I am to