บททั้งหมดของ Prince Alpha's Rejected Maid: บทที่ 111 - บทที่ 120

"Jodie." Deceptively calm. He patted the empty space next to him, compelling her to sit down. On the bed. With him. Next to him. Even her anger stared like a confused child. She could count on one hand the number of times he had indulged her. He looked weary though. Weary of her probably, like a parent is, knowing how despicable their actions might feel but they had no choice in the matter. Except he did. He always did. If there was one person in her life who had the choice to make decisions, it'd be him. "You never go behind my back. You never order my men behind my back without talking to me first." She planted her stubborn feet. Her black leathers caught the humidity in the room, perspiration gathered at the juncture where her back ended. And she realized it was more than heat. She was nervous. Jodie couldn't remember the last time she had felt betrayed to such a degree, where he couldn't reach her. They were seven years apart in age. And yet Calvin and his mother were the only

Vanessa powered her rental car, still reeling over what she had read. The text further vaporized into past she knew from a distance, an estranged traveler looking for traffic signals in thick fog, breathing mist for air and never finding what they were looking for. It was hard to concentrate at the road ahead in morning traffic. It was also always good to travel during busy hour of the day. Nobody notices anyone unless they create a ruckus. And she was farther from hysterics today. No, she felt right at home. Disappearing and running away were where she belonged. Never had she thought she'd find purpose in it again but here she was.Seating her silver-grey sedan behind a towtruck, she opened the book again. 'Since wolves were now infected with same disease, their leader, Desmond Sr. had proposed a solution much like that for changelings. To open a an academy where wolves since their birth would learn to control their blood lust, their transition into civilisation would begin at early

Noah tore down the sixth tree, standing tall and proud in his path. In span of two weeks, he had lost almost everything. No one does that to anyone unless they want something in return. He was sad, affixed to anger that was turning into despair and his despair affected everyone else. Mikhail. Rhys. All the other elite soldiers, academy trained to be under his command. They had built an army foraging the most vicious group of them all. Suffice to say, it was a gnawing hurt, the one that ate from inside. To believe he was so blinded by his plan, by his ministrations that he couldn't see what lay right in front of him. And now, he didn't have that. Mikhail and Rhys still followed his orders. Sam led the trackers on a goose chase to keep them from knowing more details, the more people knew, more the chances of them turning on him. But at the bottom of things lay a heap-his dirty laundry. His lack of trust on rogues. His lack of understanding anything when it came to Vanessa Flynn. She wa

Her fingers twitched and she tried to fold them under her lap but it felt childish. Skittish. In a way she didn't like. But the loud raucous man next to her was slithering closer with every bout of laughter he shared with his friends on the other end of the phone. Jodie had a bad first hand experience of ornery drunks and their fists as a child. She was never going to be completely comfortable in a bar surrounded by strangers and peevish men whom only one woman in this universe could like- their mothers. And this one specifically needed a lesson in personal space. A lesson involving fists and elbows. "What are you looking at?" The guy was wearing a tank top. Or a spaghetti. Lord knew. And his chubby greasy finger, from all the chicken fries he had gulped down had stained his upper wear, right on the pot belly. When she didn't reply, he asked again. "Hey you. What are you looking at? Dont you be looking at me. Not like that." She realised why he said it. Her expression must be betwee

The next ten minutes, the lone street filled with panting grunts, a deadly blur of one 6'2 man, careful and defensive and a 5'8 woman never tired of attacking him, deciding each other's fate with every swish of their blades. Subtle was not her forte, he knew she'd go for his shin first. It had the reverberating factor. The shin, the bridge of his nose. What he hadn't prepared himself was the jarring weight of her heel. She flew at him and he re-positioned himself, face protected, body angled, giving her enough space to carry out her attack but also to defend himself. He rotated back and forth on the balls of his foot. When she realized he merely suffered a few cuts, she went for the wall, like cats always do. He owed Rhys a drink. Rhys had turned him to husk because they were fighting in closed space and no one knew walls better than cats. It happened rather quickly. She used the concrete stack to thrust her full weight at him. First kick caught him in the shoulder. He didn't budge,