Mag-log inSamantha had been with her husband Alex for 12 long years, dutifully raising his child from a previous relationship. Yet as the years dragged on, the deep resentment she felt could no longer be ignored. Alex took her endless sacrifices for granted, never expressing an ounce of appreciation for all she did to keep their family afloat. His domineering mother only fanned the flames of drama, inserting herself into every aspect of their lives. And their once passionate marriage had become a sexless, loveless obligation. Samantha's only solace was her job at the local hardware store, a seeming world away from the suffocating doldrums of her home life. It was there that she met Jack, her new boss - a charismatic man whose radiant charm and flirtations slowly but surely began chipping away at Samantha's resolve. At first, she dismissed the growing attraction as a harmless crush. But as the weeks ticked by, the chemistry between them became undeniable, an all-consuming force that made her feel truly alive for the first time in years. One fateful night, passion overcame reason, and Samantha surrendered to her desires in Jack's arms. The guilt was searing, but it paled in comparison to the euphoria of being wanted, needed, desired again. Thus began a torrid affair, one built on lies and deception as they stole away for clandestine rendezvous. Samantha was playing with fire, but she couldn't bring herself to stop.
view moreChapter 1
Laura´s POV
>Arena. Night<
I cannot recall when it was that I last had the dream. The objects in the dream looked so familiar, yet I couldn´t touch them.
This is not the time for dreaming, I have more important things to do right now. My hands are covered with blood. Although it´s nothing new. This isn´t the first time my hands have become coated with the thick crimson fluid of life. The slick feeling is all too familiar. And I enjoy it. Somehow it speaks volumes about who I really am. That I used to be a killer. Maybe. I don´t know. I possess no memory of who I really am. All I know is that I have a killer instinct. And I must hold on to it in order to survive.
There´s a rage within that boils just beneath the surface. A beast that wants to be unleashed, that has a propensity for violence. The only way to tame it is to fight. So here I am inside a cage. A cage that´s become all too recognizable for someone like me. Within this cage, the stakes are high. Blood is drawn and, sometimes, lives are lost. I´ve face innumerable opponents inside this cage, all for the entertainment of these wealthy patrons, supernatural or otherwise. Bastards. I´ve faced a number of vampires, the occasional monster from an obscure country only God knows where, and some low-level warlocks, whom I´ve developed an enmity for. And of course, werewolves. Plenty of werewolves have fallen within this cage under my fists. And now, another one is about to fall. It´s his blood on my hands. The werewolf stares back at me, breathing heavily. I don´t want to prolong his pain or his humiliation. So, I decide to do what I do best. I ball up my hands into fists. Then I pull my arm back and drive it forwards. I land the final blow at the werewolf´s face. I knock him to the ground.
The crowd cheers.
The fightmaster declares the winner: Laura Rose. That´s the only thing I recall about who I am. My name is Laura Rose.
As my name reverberates around the arena, a vision flashes before my eyes. It is an image of a silver-haired man. I am uncertain who he is, although he reminds me of sunsets. Momentarily, amidst the violence and blood surrounding me, I feel safe just seeing his kind face in my mind. The image disappears as suddenly as it swam to view, leaving me with more questions.
Who is that man? Who am I? What am I?
Living in this world of the supernatural, there is a part of me that is afraid to discover what kind of monster I am.
>Arena. Locker room. Night<
Following the match, I am changing in the locker room when I begin to sense his presence. I didn´t look at him, however I can feel his piercing gaze boring into me.
“You were pulling your punches out there.”
“No, I wasn´t. I gave it my all.”
I turn to look at him, and see him standing with his arms crossed over his bare chest. It´s the deep cut across his cheek that really catches my attention though.
“Barry, your wound.”
I rush to his side to inspect the cute more closely, deeply concerned. We may be adversaries inside the ring, however in real life, we are friends. He´s the only one I trust.
“You need sutures.”
“How would you know how to do one?” A serious look appears on his face, and he stares at me with sudden realization. “Wait. Don´t tell me; your memories are beginning to return and you just remembered you´re a doctor in your previous life?” Then his lips widen into a mischievous smile. “Because that would be hot.”
I press on his wound.
“Owww!”
“Shut up, Barry.” I grin a spite of myself.
“I´m just saying. You´d look hot in those doctor´s uniforms or whatever the hell you call them.”
“Quit it and stay still.” I busy myself with attending to his wound.
“It´s okay, Rose. It will heal within a few minutes. I just don´t understand how it is that it takes more time for me to heal when you´re the one who´s wounding me. You´re just so full of secrets.” Barry peers at me with fascination. “You´re such an enigma. No one can figure out what you really are. You don´t even have a scent.” Barry reaches out to touch my hair. I swat his hand away. He knows full well that I don´t like it when he touches my hair, yet he just likes to annoy me so much.
“What does my scent have to do with anything?”
“Because if you were a werewolf like me, I would be able to detect it through your scent.”
“Right. Another Werewolf 101 with Barry Whitmore, ladies and gentlemen.”
Barry laughs. The sound of his laugh gets me every time.
“Well, for now we´ll just assume you are superhuman ninja witch.”
“You do know I can´t do magic, right?”
“Where else would you get your abilities if you didn´t enhance yourself with magic?”
“Whatever, Barry.”
“But seriously, please do let me know if your memory begins to return, even just a little bit.”
“And why is that?”
Barry blinks back at me, groping for words. “B-Because I´m your best friend?”
“Oh, please.”
“Well, I want to know if you had another best friend somewhere during your previous life.”
“And does you enthusiasm to find out fall within the bounds of werewolves being territorial, even about their best friends?”
Barry raises an eyebrow, moving closer to me. His own scent seems to overwhelm my senses. “And how would you know about werewolves´ territorial inclination?”
“I may have slept with one.”
We just stand there gazing at each other. There is sexual tension between us. That much is evident. It´s something we´ve acted upon a number of times in the past. But we remained friends in spite of it all. I prefer that more than having a romantic relationship with him. Although now that he´s standing in front of me, there´s something about him that I just can´t resist. Perhaps it´s the fact that he´s covered in sweat and is half-naked. Or maybe it´s because he is undeniably handsome in his own rugged way. The lust inside me begins to surface, responding to Barry´s proximity. There´s a certain glint in Barry´s eyes that tells me he knows that I want something to happen. I try with all my strength to resist him. I look away, knowing that staring at him any longer would invoke images of the delicious things I can unleash on his body.
“Why do you fight it, Rose? We both know that you want to. I can detect the struggle in your eyes. You´re having a hard time resisting me.”
“Perhaps because deep inside, it doesn´t feel right.”
“What´s holding you back? You still believe it´s a mistake?”
“Maybe. I don´t know.”
“That never stopped you from making the same mistake three times before as I can recall. It´s me, Rose. You know you don´t have to hide the real you around me, right?”
“But that´s the thing, Barry. I am not sure of the real me.”
“Well, you know how I feel about you. And I don´t have to hide it. Maybe if you´d let me mark you, then you would better understand how I feel.”
I suddenly turn away from Barry.
“Was it something I said?”
I simply stare back at Barry.
“Oh, wait, right. You´re still uncertain when it comes to that marking stuff.”
“I don´t know, Barry. But it sounds like forever to me. And—Well, we´ve discussed this before. This—this is just us having fun. No feelings. No strings.”
Barry attempts to hide it, but the disappointment behind his eyes is apparent. Our friendship is complicated enough as it is. My life is complicated enough as it is. And I just don´t possess the courage to tell him that I feel like I am meant for someone else. And that someone is out there. I just know it. I can feel it through my veins.
Suddenly, there´s another flash of an image before my eyes. It´s the same silver-haired man once again. However, this time I see him fighting with another powerful man. A man with a scar on his face, he looks very familiar. And I feel a searing pain on my shoulder, as if... As if I was bitten. The image disappears and I place a hand on my shoulder where the pain originated, then vanished so suddenly. Yet I can´t have been bitten there. It would have left a mark. Who is that man? Is he an old enemy from my past?
I turn away from Barry. I don´t want him to notice that I was distracted momentarily. He would only ask questions that I don´t have any answers to.
“Look, I´m sorry.” Barry reaches out for my chin, tenderly turning my head towards him. “I guess it´s the werewolf in me. I´ve been feeling so comfortable around you. And you seem like the perfect candidate for a mate. You´re markless. If you were a werewolf, that means that nobody has claimed you yet. And the wolf inside me recognizes that.”
“But I´m not a werewolf, Barry. We don´t even know what I am.”
“Right. And I apologize. It won´t happen again.” Barry reaches out for my hand. And I allow him to hold it. Regardless of everything, the fact is undeniable that I constantly crave his touch.
“I´m content with what we have. I am happy where we are right now, Rose.”
“Oh, Barry. You´d better be, or I´ll kick your ass.”
Barry laughs.
“Before I forget, Eisendrath wants to see you at the manor.”
The mention of Eisendrath instantly ruins my mood.
“This can´t be good.”
We sit at the dining table, watching the candle flicker like the last ember of a dying fire. Jack shifts, clears the finalized divorce papers, and sets them aside with the care of a surgeon. The edges of the documents are sharp, like the words and arguments that led us here, but his hands are steady. I pass him the salt, and our fingers brush, a soft collision that neither of us acknowledges. "We're free now," he says, his voice steady and clear. The words should be a relief, a declaration of independence, but they cling to the air like smoke. "Finally, a fresh start," I reply, echoing his calm. My fingers tap on the plate, a nervous metronome keeping time with my thoughts. Jack nods, a solemn agreement, and I see his eyes flicker to the papers before settling back on his food. We eat in quiet rhythm, words and glances punctuating the meal like stops and starts on a broken line. The room is a mix of shadows and warmth, the dim light casting our reflections against the walls. I look a
Moving boxes isn't the hardest thing I've ever done, though I suppose it should be. At my age, I shouldn't be leaving anyone or anything behind. I hear my own quick steps shuffling through the modest new living room as Jack and I carry in the last of the taped-up containers. His grin is large and bright in the late afternoon light, which streams in through wide windows and bounces off the freshly painted walls. "What's this?" he asks, holding up a wrench from my old toolbox. "You planning to do any work around here?" He laughs like he already knows the answer. "Careful," I warn, adjusting the weight of the box in my arms. "Those things are sharp. You might hurt yourself." "Are you going to fix me up if I do?" Jack sets his load down with a playful wink and comes over to take mine. "Only if I have to," I reply, though my voice wavers between sarcasm and sincerity. His easy charm is something I haven't felt in years, and the way we move together through this house is surprisingly na
I sit across from Angela in the crowded coffee shop, watching as she squeezes her mug and brings it to her lips. Around us, the sun fills the room with too much light, pressing in through the floor-to-ceiling windows until I feel like I’m suffocating. I keep tapping my fingers on the edge of the table, waiting for the right words to come. Angela sets her mug down, leaving a crimson lipstick stain against the white ceramic, and I take a deep breath. "I've done everything for Victoria," I say, finally. "Every sacrifice, every late night, every tear." I keep my eyes on Angela, trying to ignore the loud clatter of dishes and the voices that mingle around us. She reaches across the table and puts her hand on mine. “I just don’t understand. It has always been me in her corner. I’m the only one who ever fought for that child. I took a crash course in family court, and had to push Alex to do everything he did. I walked him through it all step by step. He would have never been a ‘father’ if i
I watch Jack standing by the window, golden evening light painting his profile as he swirls the wine in his glass. The liquid catches the light, throwing ruby shadows across his face. Something in the way he holds himself—shoulders tense despite his casual stance—tells me he has news. I curl my fingers around the silver spoon I've been absently holding, feeling its cool weight anchor me to this moment, this worn sofa that has witnessed too many conversations that changed everything. Our living room isn't much—faded floral curtains that came with the apartment, the coffee table with water rings I've stopped trying to remove, photos I arranged on the wall in a pattern that once felt artistic but now just seems like an attempt to cover cracks in the paint. But in this light, with dust motes dancing in the sunbeams, there's a soft kind of beauty to it. Or maybe that's just Jack's presence, the way he makes even ordinary spaces feel charged with possibility. "You're quiet tonight," he sa
The fluorescent lights flicker overhead as I push my salad around the plastic container. Jack sits across from me, his presence both comforting and electrifying in the cramped break room. I've been wanting to ask him about his wife for weeks, but the words catch in my throat each time. Today feels
The conference room buzzes with chatter, but all I hear is the thundering of my own heart. Jack's arm brushes against mine as he leans in, pointing to something in the handout. A spark of electricity shoots through me, making my skin tingle. "What do you think about their new line of power tools?"
The phone trembles in my hand as I pace the living room, my footsteps echoing off the bare walls. I hit redial for the tenth time, each unanswered ring like a dagger to my chest. "Come on, Alex," I mutter, willing his voice to break through the silence. "Pick up. Please." Nothing. The call goes t
The scent of fresh coffee and warm pastries envelops me as I step into The Daily Grind, the familiar aroma doing little to calm my racing thoughts. My eyes scan the crowded space, a sea of strangers lost in their own worlds, until I spot a flash of vibrant red hair in the far corner. Angela. My he






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