Devotion Lovers Reunion Short Stories & Novels

At the Crestwood Academy gala, a voice cut through the noise. We stood before a wall of portraits, our past selves staring back at us. "To our time at the academy. Three words." Victoria, the academy's fallen golden girl, raised her glass. She'd been silent for years. "Strength. Passion." She paused. Her gaze, hot as an ember, locked onto the one wolf every eye was already on—my mate. "And... Caspen." A hush fell over the room. They were the academy's most tragic couple. Caspen, the reckless Alpha. Victoria, the radiant pureblood. Their love had been a wildfire, wild and consuming. But they had broken apart on the night of the Blood Moon, just before graduation. Every wolf here had witnessed their legend. Including me. I glanced at Caspen. His power was a physical weight in the air. That untamed wolf had sheathed his claws. He was my mate now. The Alpha of Alphas. Powerful. Composed. But his heart was not mine.

At our high school reunion, my ex announced he was getting married. In the middle of the congratulations, someone piped up. “Hey, where’s Wren tonight? She didn’t show?” The whole room cracked up. “Wren? Probably still earning her keep in some rich guy’s bed.” “She dumped James for money, and now look at him. He’s the wealthiest guy in New York. Bet she’s kicking herself.” Someone snickered. “I heard the guy’s some fat old man. God, how does she even stomach it.” I broke up with James Thorne the year he loved me the most, and walked straight into the arms of another man, a man with money. Now he had a new girlfriend, he’d taken over Thorne Capital, and he was one of New York’s most talked-about young executives. He’d organized this reunion because he couldn’t wait to show off how good his life had turned out. “Enough. Drop it.” In the middle of the laughter, James spoke up. “I have a better life now. Whether Wren is dead or alive has nothing to do with me anymore.” “What if she really were dead?” The room went silent.

Adrian Vance, heir to the Vance family, and I were together for three years. When we broke up, it got ugly. At the height of everything we had, I took a million dollars from his father and got rid of our child. He was outside the operating room, crying like a little kid. "Eve, I'm begging you, don't be this cruel. Don't throw away our love, don't throw away our baby..." I smiled, cold as ice, my nails digging into my palm. "You fool. Just go. The thought of carrying your child makes me sick." Adrian held back his tears until the corners of his eyes went red, and finally he let go of my wrist. Later, Adrian became the Don. We met again when I was at my lowest. It was his engagement party. The blonde standing at his side was about to become his noble Donna. And there I was, on the floor at his feet, begging him for a little money. He asked if I regretted it. I didn't regret a thing. He still didn't know that I'd given birth to that child and raised him. And now, that boy is dying.

To keep me from becoming a spinster, my father spared no expense in finding me a husband. Seduced by a handsome face, I rushed into a whirlwind marriage with a charming young gentleman. Little did I imagine that this gentleman would prove more dissolute than I. Not only did he hold clandestine meetings with four different women, but he was also legally married. Upon finding that out, I fled with my baby without hesitation. But there was something I could not fathom. Why did the fugitive the new king was hunting bear my exact face?

I came to Chicago with my friend to visit her boyfriend. Three days in, her boyfriend said he'd show us "something fun." The car kept driving—farther and farther out. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were locked inside an abandoned factory. My friend was gone. Her boyfriend shoved me into a room and threw me a line: "Your friend sold you for twenty grand. Stay put and wait for arrangements." I scanned the room. A few men in black suits leaned against the doorway. Silver-gray pins on their chests. Shield-shaped. Dark red thorns. An inverted dagger. The family crest of Caleb Richardson—don of the New York mafia. I was held captive by him for three years. I barely escaped with my life— And now I've been handed right back to him.

After school, a student suddenly approached me to confess. "Ma'am, I like you!" My vision went black from the shock. I felt as if I could already see the teaching certificate I had worked so hard for being ripped into shreds, slipping out of my grasp. "Teacher-student romance, huh? That's against the rules. That’ll be 10 extra papers for you." The student's eyes immediately welled up with tears. "I just wanted you to be my sister-in-law! My brother is the most handsome guy in the universe. Please don't punish me! I won't say that again anymore!" I immediately let out a long sigh of relief. During a home visit, I stared blankly at the so-called "most handsome guy in the universe" standing in front of me. He was wearing nothing on top but an apron. It caught me so off guard that I thought to myself in disbelief, "Isn't he the ex-boyfriend I dumped ages ago for being too boring? When did he become so seductive?"

I was a two-hundred-pound girl. But on the night of graduation, I slept with Nova, captain of the Ashbury Ravens hockey team. The next morning, laughter drifted down the hotel hallway from his teammates. "Nova slipped his room key to Sienna last night, right?" "What, you think he'd give it to the Zamboni? That tub of lard. One look at her gives you nightmares for three days." "Did you guys see her reporter's notebook? It's covered in Nova's name. She's actually got a crush on Nova. Disgusting." So the room key that had slipped into my notebook wasn't meant for me. And the name he murmured against me in the dark wasn't mine either. My eyes burned with humiliation. I got dressed, walked out alone, and disappeared for six years. Six years later, my mother, Diane Quinn, was three months behind on her dialysis bills, and the sports website I worked for was on its last legs. My editor, Claire Bennett, slapped a file on my desk. "Nova. Newly crowned MVP. Not one interview in six years. Land him, or you're out."

Just clocked out. My bestie, Chloe, texted. Begging me to go wild with her at a bar. I collapsed onto my bed. Exhausted. “No way. My legs are jelly. I can’t tonight.” I splashed some water on my face and stared at my reflection. Pale. Drained. Suddenly, I knew I needed a release. Anything to forget my inhuman, tyrant werewolf boss. I grabbed my phone again, ready to text Chloe. I wanted to type: “My whole body aches. No energy for the bar. I desperately need a rough, deep-tissue massage session tonight.” But my brain was fried. I just typed: “Just need a rough, deep session tonight.” Five minutes later, my screen lit up. But it wasn't a message from Chloe. It was from my cold, untouchable Alpha boss. “Send location.”