All Chapters of Beyond Rejection.: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Levi I haven’t had much sleep. She’s leaving tomorrow. And I won’t get to see her for another month. It’s probably for the best, I keep telling myself? The time we spent fighting over pillows had reminded me of the time when we had been in high school. I remain hovered over the treadmill. Part of me doesn’t want to go out. If I do, she’ll leave soon enough. Yesterday, I had a glimpse of the woman beneath, the cheerful Anastasia whose biting sarcasm never waned but was capable of laughter. I had known that part of her once. But I won’t be fooled a second time. Staring at the meter, I increase the speed. Perspiration beads down my forehead by the time we are done. A glance at the wallclock tells me that it’s nearly nine. Shit! We were supposed to leave for her place at eight. Instead of feeling remorse, a crooked grin plays on my lips. She’d probably be pouting, preparing all the verbal ammunition she could come up with in the space of an hour. I pick a towel from my neatly a

AnastasiaI watch him leave this room. His shoulders look tense, I notice.“You’re quiet.” Arthur says.“I just don’t feel like talking.”He grins. “But the two of you were doing a lot of talking with your eyes.” He wiggles his brows at me.I turn to my father who has gone back to staring out the window.Arthur’s phone buzzes.He stretches his arms.“My guest is here. Darling sister, I have someone who’d like to see you.” “I don’t want to see anyone.”“Of course you don’t. But… don’t speak too soon.”He leaves the room, his hands shoved into his pockets.Something urges me to follow him outside - just to satisfy the burning curiosity.My stomach flips over when I catch sight of the dazzling brown curly hair that once filled my dreams.Corbin.He was the guest?Oh, right.And, that’s not all. Levi is still standing there. The air feels thick with tension. They have never met as far as I know, but the air reeks of alpha territoriality.Then, they both turn to look at me.Instead of col

Anastasia Each step down the stairs feels deliberate.Too loud.Too slow.Too final.My fingers trail lightly against the banister, steadying myself. The house feels different now. Like it’s holding its breath.He’s here.I can feel it.Before I even see him.Voices drift from the table room. Arthur’s. Calm, measured. Corbin’s laughter follows, easy and warm. They had moved ahead of me while I paused to catch my breath for a few minutes.And then…Silence.I stop halfway down the stairs.He must have sensed me.Of course he did.My stomach tightens, my palm instinctively brushing over it. A useless gesture. One I pretend not to notice.Then I continue.When I step into the room, all three of them are there.Arthur stands by the fireplace, one hand resting against the mantel. Corbin lounges against the arm of a chai

AnastasiaThe gates slide open without a sound.Of course they do.Everything about his world is controlled. Silent. Precise.I stare straight ahead as the car rolls into the driveway, my fingers gripping the edge of my dress tighter than necessary. The house comes into view slowly, like it’s waiting for me.It hasn’t changed.Not the walls. Not the windows. Not the way it sits there like it owns everything around it.My stomach tightens.Three weeks.I spent three weeks here.And somehow, it feels longer.Alphonsus pulls the car to a smooth stop. He’s out before the engine fully dies, already moving toward my side.I reach for the handle.The door opens before I touch it.“Miss.” he says, stepping aside.I step out without looking at him.The air is different here.Cooler.Cleaner.Annoyingly familiar.I hate that

Anastasia  I watch him leave the room, his broad shoulders disappearing down the hall, and for a moment, I let out a shaky breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The remnants of the meal, or rather the remnants of what I could manage to swallow, sit heavily in my stomach. My hands linger on the edge of the counter as if gripping it will keep me anchored in sanity.I move toward the shower, dragging my legs through the thick exhaustion that clings to me. The water is hot enough to wash away the sticky traces of the afternoon, the smell of brandy and the sharp tang of bile still lingering faintly. I close my eyes as the steam envelopes me, my mind replaying that kiss over and over. It’s not supposed to feel like that, not with him. Not in the middle of all this tension and stubbornness and everything I tell myself I need to control. But it did. It did feel like a spark had been lit, and it scares me.After a long, careful rinse, I w