Khai’s POVKhai grabbed his phone from the nightstand and sent a quick text to the mayor. “Problem solved.” The ring that followed let me know that the message had been delivered.“So quick?” The reply from the mayor came in barely a second later.“It wasn’t a big deal, just something minor and it’s fixed now,” I replied.“And the evidence? Witnesses?” Another text caused his phone to beep yet again.“No images would suddenly appear on the internet, you need not worry.” I fired a text back. The last one. That should be enough to keep the mayor’s anger at bay. Not like he could exactly be mad at him anyway. The mayor needed him just as much as Khai needed the mayor, if not more. Aside from the obvious protection they needed from werewolves, there was also the fact that Khai’s company brought in more tax revenue than four companies combined or any company in the other states for that matter. And for someone with electoral plans, plans that involved being the country’s president, he ne
“I can’t love you, Ryan.”Ryan watches as I choke those words out, each of them stinging my heart like a thousand needles into soft flesh. I look away. “You remind me too much of him. Each time we touch and each time we kiss, I can't… I can't help but feel it’ll start all over again. You’re not the one I should be falling in love with. I was married to your father once, Ryan, that has to mean something.”Ryan stalks closer to me, his steps slow and intentional as he asks darkly, “What if it doesn’t?” I scoff because he can’t mean that. Of course it does. I’m… doing this for him as much as it is for me. I whisper resolutely.“Me and you…. We can’t work, Ryan.”He replies in a rasp, “Who says we can’t?” “I say we can’t. I can’t do this, Ryan.”The air grows cold as two other people enter the room and their auras settle firmly in my gut. Two people I once knew and hated but who have also shown me that I might be wrong about how I view life.That I might be wrong, with how I view…. them
“Ride him harder, Layla!”. My lips tremble violently as I heave, my eyes blinded by tears and my husband’s voice sinking a deep pike into my heart as he snaps at me again.“I SAID to ride him harder!” My heart throbs and jabs at me as tears stream down my face. The old man below me has his eyes closed as he grunts in pleasure while my husband watches. I look to Clifford and in an act of foolishness I beg, my words barely coming out because the moment I open my mouth a sob overtakes me instead. Hoarse broken words come out and my lips tremble as I plead, “P… please Clifford.” A sob wracks my chest and I look away. The pain I'm feeling makes it hard to speak but the man I’m on grabs me by the neck, his fingers closing around my throat and forcing me to look at him, at his grinning face and his cruel smirk. I beg him too because maybe he might listen to me, maybe he’ll put a stop to this.“Please,” the shame rolling through me makes me want to vanish, to tell myself I'm not here, bu
Whispers follow me everywhere I go now.“Have you seen what she looks like?”, A low harsh rasp that comes from the elderly woman a few paces behind me.“I heard she killed her husband.” A shocked gasp rings out as someone refutes that, “No, no, There’s no way… women aren’t capable of killing, Mar, we know that.”I hear whoever Mar is scoffing in disbelief before the priest begins his sermon. He clears his throat to catch our attention, but my focus is on the coffin. How beautiful and regal it looks.Mr Clifford Earl wasn’t part of any pack. Too wealthy to bow, and too old to obey the whims of any Alpha.The priest’s voice is weathered and raspy as he begins, “On this day, we gather here to celebrate the life of a good man, a hardworking man. Mr. Clifford Earl lived a long healthy life, 74 years of age, and we can all agree that he had things a lot of people don’t in this day and age.”A low murmur of approval ripples across the small crowd and someone bursts into sobs, the feminine k
Ryan’s face is stormy as he steps into the house. His men, fully suited in black and wearing sunshades spread out into every corner of the place.Some of them take the stairs to the left, the others take the stairs to the right, more flank into the kitchen, and the gymnasium downstairs, They simply fill the whole house and I nod to myself.He’ll have company then.“I’m leaving.”Ryan casts stormy eyes at me as he looks up, his Adam's apple bobbing when he husks a response, “I didn’t hear that right.”His voice is a deep rasp that sets fear churning low in my belly but I ignore that feeling. I extinguish it and clear my throat as I repeat myself.“I said I'm leaving.”My purse is in one hand and the handle of my traveling bag is in the other. “I’m catching the next bus out of town, and then the next flight, and the next flight after that. I’m leaving.”My chest constricts as images flash through my mind but I hold myself steady.For five years I have suffered in the marriage my parents
Ryan’s pov.“What’s she doing now?”My hand skims over the rim of the monitor as I look at the small figure.In my field of vision is a man by a window. One of my windows, and one of my men. The dark-suited man answers in a low whisper.“She’s getting a refill, sir.”My eyebrows bunch in annoyance.“A refill of what?”My tone is impatient but I keep my temper in check. It’s one of the things I'll need to work on if I want to be better.The video changes, switched automatically from the CCTV cameras to the eye camera in the sunshades all my men wear. Layla looks like an actress out of an eighties movie.That summer yellow-tinged appeal all old Hollywood movies have to them lends her an air of exotic beauty, and for a while, all I can do is stare.Her hair falls like golden wool down her back. It looks soft to the touch, even with the slightly blurred resolution. Her hair feels wild and matted from days spent in her bed yet unbelievably soft and thick.Layla looks beautiful.So beautifu
The guard looks unsure when I arrive but my glare gets him cooperating immediately. I shove him aside when his wits don’t tell him he has to move and I crouch to peer through the keyhole.Layla’s taken a blanket to every security camera in her room.She’s shut down every electrical appliance and blocked all her windows. There’s barely any light filtering in through the glass and her room has been thrown into semi-darkness. I frown because how many dresses can one woman have? And how thick can they be?A voice from behind interrupts my thoughts.“I… almost went in to dissuade her, Sir Ryan. I remembered you said we shouldn’t.”I turn back to glance at the guard and I peer at him, “You’re new aren’t you?”He nods eagerly and I take stock of his featuresTall the way all my men are tall, although he’s a bit on the shorter side compared to most of their general height. He’s stocky the way all my men are stocky.He’d have made a typical Earl guard, except he seems a bit empty up there whe
Layla's pov.I am not a fan of alcohol. Never was, at least not before I married my late husband. He always went to these events, meetings that I had to escort him to and they never served strawberry juice for some reason. I eventually got used to the Champagnes and wines they served and soon… I found that I craved them and needed them to go through life being married to a man that thought it okay to pimp me out to his friendsA surge of anger overtakes me in that moment and I physically shake my head to smooth out my emotions. I want to lose myself for a while.I sway my hips to the sweet sensual music playing from the old music box, following the flow and beat of the alcohol now in my system, letting loose as much as I can.Tears run down my cheeks as the memories I try to keep at bay force their way through the walls I carefully built a long time ago. This was supposed to be my big break, the opportunity to get out of a house that has done nothing but scar me in the last five y