LOGINQue faire lorsque la personne que vous aimez le plus vous oublie ? Miranda Whitmore pensait avoir enfin trouvé le bonheur lorsqu'elle a quitté son héritage pour épouser Cassian, l'homme qu'elle aimait. Mais après des années passées prisonnière d'un mariage glacial, humiliée et oubliée même par sa propre fille, le monde de Miranda s'écroule le jour où elle découvre la photo de famille parfaite… sans elle. Trahie par son mari. Rejetée par son fils. Poussée à bout, au sens propre comme au figuré, par celle qui l'a remplacée. Mais la mort ne l'emporte pas. Dorian Kensington, si. Lorsqu'il la sauve des abysses, au sens propre comme au figuré, il ne se con tente pas de lui tendre la main… il lui offre une seconde chance. Une chance de pouvoir. Une chance de se venger. Et peut-être… une chance d'aimer. Désormais, Miranda Harrington renaît en une femme prête à tout détruire plutôt que de jamais implorer à nouveau l'amour.
View MoreShe awoke with a start.
Taking down her hands which had been earlier wrapped around her torso, to the floor as a support system, she sat upright; wincing sharply as pain shot through every nook and cranny of her entire being. What had happened? She thought, as she took in a deep breath. The air was stale and clammy.
''Where am I?'' She muttered, taking a scan of the entire dark space with her tired eyes. She could tell that it was a windowless room, too stuffy and stale, too dark too; she couldn't see much except the little illumination proferred by a soft glow which was cast by the few rays of light coming in from small creaks on an iron door. But she didn't understand how she had gotten here.
''What am I doi…''
"Oh God!" She shrieked, jerking up her head, as memories of past events assailed her head in hot pursuit.
She bent her head down in agony, rubbing her hands frankly on her faded blue jeans, as she muttered incoherent words.
She had been taken, for reasons she couldn't fathom. She had just been trying to escape as her parents had urged her too during the last assault on her pack, with Jeremy, when…
"Wait.. where's Jeremy?" She asked rhetorically, getting frantic by the moment. She didn't think she would be able to survive if Jeremy died.
He had been a strong pillar of support, apart from her family which she hoped wasn't dead, ever since it was discovered that she was wolfless. Nobody knew whether it had been a temporary issue or a permanent one, even the Pack's doctor.
But it didn't stop the taunts and bullying in school. Only Jeremy had stood up for her; Kia, her childhood friend had abadoned her, joining the taunting gang immediately she had gotten wind of the information.
And now she couldn't find him.
"Jeremy.." She whispered at first, still stuck between choosing to stand up and shout out his name, or sit and whisper. She didn't know who was outside at the moment. She was scared. They had been ambushed and taken by the captives. They couldn't escape.
"I'm sorry Mom." She muttered, as a lone tear trickled down her cheek. She had failed them. She didn't escape. Now Jeremy was in trouble.
When she didn't hear Jeremy's voice, it made the choice for her. She had to stand up.
Taking a deep breath, she forced herself up from the ground, gritting her teeth as she tried to withstand the pains shooting all over the body. She couldn't help but wonder whether she had been beaten before been thrown into this black zone; but then she couldn't feel any bruise. Might be tiredness then. She thought, walking towards the big iron door which could pass for a narrow gate because of the thorns on its apex.
"Jeremy!" She yelled, not minding the grunts she was hearing from nearby places. She could tell that she was in a prison house. But finding Jeremy was more important. He was her safe house.
"Jeremy!" She yelled again, this time louder; blinking her eyes rapidly to stop the tears that were threatening to flow down like a river whose bank had broken through. She couldn't lose Jeremy, not now. She refused to think that something bad had happened to him.
When there was no response again, she shuddered. Have they killed him? Was her parents still alive?
Who are these people? And who had ticked them off on where they were staying? They had just settled into the area last year, after escaping from their ruthless ruler.
"Jeremy.." She muttered weakly, dropping down to the floor in forlornness, letting the tears flow. She couldn't believe that she had lost three of her favorite people in a day.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang and shuffling of several feet. She was startled. She scampered back to her former place, trampling on an empty plate as she moved hastily.
"Have they come to silence her too?" She thought, shaking violently. Her seizures were starting again. She stretched her right hand into the pocket of her jeans, searching for the white container.
She sighed dejectedly, when she didn't find it. It must have fallen away, when they had carried them away.
Bitting her lips, she wrapped her arms around herself, waiting for the worse.
She shuddered again when she heard a deep voice thunder across the space. She knew it was a male.
"Where is the wimp shouting for Jeremy?" He had said.
Someone must have pointed to her door. She was sure. Because in the next minute, she heard rattling sounds outside the black door sealing her space.
Her eyes widened in apprehension. Perhaps it was her turn to leave this evil earth. She thought, trying to calm the seizures racking her body by taking deep breaths.
She held her breath, as the door finally jerked open, revealing a big stouty man.
"You're the wimp beckoning for Jeremy eh" He asked, strutting towards her.
She shrinked back more, into the wall, if possible.
He displayed an evil smile, before moving closer to her.
"You would be good in bed. I think." He said, trailing eyes now filled with lust over her petite frame. "The innocent ones always are." He added, licking his lips which the girl found disgusting.
What the hell was this place? She hoped she wouldn't be used as a sex slave. She would have to die before that. She thought conclusively, tightening her fists.
"Where is Jeremy?" She asked, trying to casting a brave look at the man.
A brave look which was easily wiped off, when the man slapped her hard across her face.
She could taste the blood in her mouth.
"You don't speak unless you're spoken to." The strange man said, scrunching his eyebrows. "Do you understand that?" He asked.
She nodded, unconsciously nursing her burning cheeks with her right hand.
"Well, you're lucky. He isn't dead yet. Bring the other wimp in." He shouted to whoever was outside the door, but not taking his cold black eyes away from her. She thought she hadn't seen a more evil eyes.
Her shoulders sagged in relief, when she saw Jeremy being pushed into the room carelessly.
He wasn't looking good with his face looking all battered, but he was still alive. There was still hope.
"Jeremy!" She yelled, attracting the blonde's attention.
"Olivera." He whispered, his swollen eyes watering a bit, as he laid tiredly on the floor.
Point de vue de MirandaUn silence pesant s'abattit sur la salle de réunion. Un silence chargé d'émotion, où se mêlaient choc et vieilles rancunes.Les lèvres parfaitement maquillées d'Alison se tordirent en un sourire moqueur. Elle se cala dans son fauteuil de présidente, comme si elle y était née.« Prends ce qui te revient de droit ? » Elle laissa échapper un rire sec et condescendant. « Tu as fui, Miranda. Tu as abandonné cette famille et cette entreprise pendant cinq ans. Et maintenant, tu crois pouvoir revenir comme ça et prendre le pouvoir ? »Je gardai les mains fermement appuyées sur le bord de la longue table, le regard fixe.Elle avait raison. J'avais manqué à mon devoir, et c'était de ma faute.« Très bien. J'ai négligé mon devoir d'héritière, dis-je calmement. Mais l'erreur est humaine. »Des murmures parcoururent la salle. Certains des actionnaires les plus âgés se remuèrent mal à l'aise sur leurs sièges. J'en remarquai quelques-uns qui hochaient légèrement la tête. Mai
Point de vue de MirandaCet homme, Dorian Kensington… pouvait-on vraiment lui faire confiance ?Que pouvait-il vraiment m’offrir ?De l’amour ? Qui se souciait de l’amour quand je pouvais avoir tellement plus ?J’ouvris la bouche pour parler, mais aucun mot ne sortit. Le moindre mot qui s’échappait de ma langue le blesserait, même légèrement.Je ne voulais pas m’en soucier. Parce que si les rôles étaient inversés, il s’en ficherait probablement aussi. Les hommes pensent toujours d’abord à leurs propres intérêts. Pourquoi ne pouvais-je pas faire de même ?La vibration de mon téléphone dans la pièce brisa la tension palpable.Dorian recula d’un pas, les épaules légèrement fléchies. Il fourra ses mains dans ses poches, me laissant l’espace dont j’avais besoin.Je haussai un sourcil en voyant que l’appel venait de ma mère.« Maman, ça va ? »Un long silence suivit, et l’attente de sa réponse ne fit que s’amplifier. Quand sa voix finit par se faire entendre, elle était basse et rauque.«
Point de vue de DorianIl y a quelques heuresMiranda allait me tuer. J'en étais absolument certain.Je la regardais monter les escaliers d'un pas lourd. Ses doigts fins effleuraient la rampe, distraits. Ma main hésitait, comme si je voulais la toucher, mais je n'y arrivais pas.Même si j'étais juste devant elle, rien n'y faisait.Quand j'arrivai enfin dans ma chambre, la porte s'ouvrit et ma sœur adoptive, Jennifer, entra après avoir fait les cent pas sur le seuil pendant ce qui me sembla une éternité. À son approche, je refermai rapidement la tablette. Elle allait piquer une crise si elle découvrait que j'observais Miranda.« Qu'est-ce qu'il y a, Jen ? Ça va ? » demandai-je.Jennifer ne répondit pas. Elle se laissa tomber sur le lit en poussant un profond soupir.Elle ne soupirait comme ça que lorsque quelque chose la tracassait vraiment. « Tu t’inquiètes pour Miranda ? » demandai-je.Jennifer esquissa un léger hochement de tête. « Elle ne mérite pas la façon dont ces gens l’ont tr
Point de vue de Miranda Depuis des jours, je n'avais pas bien dormi. Pourtant, je dormais bien. Honnêtement, m'adapter à cette nouvelle vie n'était pas facile. Je ne m'y attendais pas. L'endroit que j'avais appelé chez moi pendant cinq ans avait disparu : ma chambre, mon lit, et… mon fichu oreiller. Un grognement de frustration m'échappa tandis que je me tournais de l'autre côté du lit. « Tu n'es pas bien… princesse ? » Mes yeux s'ouvrirent brusquement. Je me redressai si d'un coup que le monde tourna sur lui-même un instant. Et il était là : Dorian Kensington. Assis dans sa position avachie habituelle sur la chaise au pied du lit, une main sous le menton. Ses lèvres étaient pincées en un sourire narquois. « Je t'ai posé une question », dit-il. J’ai cligné des yeux deux fois, juste pour être sûre de ne pas rêver. « Pourquoi… pourquoi es-tu là ? » Dorian cligna des yeux une fois. Lorsqu’il inclina la tête, ses cheveux ébouriffés lui tombèrent sur les yeux. « Hmm », fit-il en






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