Abigail Wyatt Novels & Stories

She can't make it today because she was sick. "Matthew, do you know who your father's mistress is?" "What mistress? I know he gambled, but Mom did not tell me that Dad has a Mistress." "Never mind then. I'll call you tomorrow after I talk with my boss. I'm sorry if I slap you. I'm just mad because you forgot the most important part of your life, and I hope you'll remember it soon. Your mother is right. Abigail is the Key to your happiness and not Kayla. Rethink again about the wedding, Matthew, or you will regret it in the end."

Abigail. She sat with her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her head slightly bowed as if in prayer. Abigail was the daughter of an omega, and Damien remembered the circumstances of her birth vividly. It was a difficult time for her family, and Damien had always had a soft spot for the girl because of it. She was just a few years older than Caleb and Kayla, if he was correct she should be around fifteen now, and he’d seen her around the pack many times, always quiet, always obedient.

Safe didn't hear the clacking of heels approaching her not when it stopped. “It's you, isn't it?” Abigail raised her head to meet a woman wearing an offensive amount of lipstick and a frown. She didn't know her. But she was popular now, after annoying the entire pure wolf community. “Alpha Ethan is not around,” she replied, ignoring the woman's attitude. “If you'll kindly drop your —” “I'm not here to see Ethan,” the woman said, cutting her off. “I saw Ethan all weekend and this morning.” Of course, Abigail thought.

Christian’s POV Abigail was fine now. Back on her feet. Back to the quiet rhythm of her days—caring for Abuelo, gliding through the estate’s marble halls like she had always belonged in them. That didn’t stop us. It didn’t even slow us down. Mindless, senseless fucks in the shadowed corners of the Castillo estate—her skirt hiked around her waist, my hand clamped over her mouth to muffle the sounds she couldn’t hold back.

She gently smoothed the crease between my brows and said, "Don't worry. Let me take care of something this trivial." I held her hand and shook my head. "This started with me, so I should be the one to end it. Let me handle this." When I appeared before Abigail, her face was soaked with tears, and her eyes were bloodshot. "Connor, I have lost everything! This is all because of you!" she shouted. She ripped open her clothes, revealing a row of explosives strapped around her waist. "Make Grace leave you and marry me! Otherwise, I will detonate this right here!"

Jacob’s POV The girl’s name is Calista Caitlynn, a nineteen year old omega. She speaks to me with enough wisdom and intelligence that not all women have, by her looks and her figure I even thought I could marry my son to her instead, only that she lacks the name for it. I could still picture how she gasped for air the moment I touched her, it felt like she wanted me to do more of that. She’s perfect as a whore, to be honest, but she’s even more perfect to serve.

Unless. "Alpha Grayson."

Today, he was an annoying flirt. Abigail in particular I had never seen in a ballet lesson till today, she stands all untrimmed and annoying next to James trying to impress him. She has been called a bot all around the school for her unceasing character. Unrealistic behavior and thick mustache. Apparently, the pervert is flirting With her. "Miss. Daniels?" Ms. Roberts startled me. "Your doing all the moves wrong." She insinuated. I wasn't doing any moves at all. I was just there standing thinking of my dearest puppet and my new friend.

From the sheepish look on his face, I know I’m right. “Why wasn’t there any information about this Caleb Sweeting and his family in the history books?” Reid asks. “What do you mean?” Alpha Jackson asks. “We were researching the other day, names of possible people who had been banished and his name nor his banishment is included in the history book. Why?” Reid asks again. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply young man, but I don’t know why the information isn’t there,” Jackson answers indignantly.

All he could do was sit on the throne, have feasts, and whore around—not a king, a nobody. Abigail. She was more than ten years younger than her husband and went out of her way to take care of herself. She had thick black hair, a rat-like face, even if a pretty one, a thin figure—but with all the necessary curves—and wore a magnificent blue dress the same color as her eyes. Inside, however, she was a venomous slut, like a parasitic ivy that attached itself to a person, draining them of their strength, and enveloping them in its deadly embrace—a sundew, a flytrap. Both stared at me with different expressions on their faces.