Adeline From Haunting Adeline Novels & Stories

The words died in my throat when I realized it wasn't one of my scouts. Adeline stood by the heavy oak doors, her hand still resting on the latch. She wasn't wearing her usual silk dresses. Instead, she was draped in a sheer, transparent robe that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The firelight from the hearth licked at the curves of her body, casting long, honeyed shadows over skin that had been oiled to a shimmer. "What the hell are you doing in my office, Adeline?" I asked, my voice dropping into a dangerous, low register. “And in that?”

She hissed, walking towards the mirror, arranging her scattered hair back in place. God, this girl. The day ended slowly with Adeline and I staring at eachother. She kept smiling at me, did she think I couldn't see her? When it was midnight, I rose from bed and got dressed up. I had to go to the Creek. Whatever message the person had, I wanted to know. As I was about to leave the room, Adeline woke up from sleep. Rubbing the sleep off her eyes, she asked. "Where are you going?"

Nicole had successfully captured every movement, gesture and conversation. Vincent and Myra in the courtyard exactly as I had presumed. Then, I saw the masked lady and how Myra presented the scarf to her with joy. I knew from the build she was Adeline, and her covered body did nothing to deceive me. I watched as she tried to retrain and control her responses, imperceptible to everyone but me.

And this wasn't the time or place for jealousy. My father had just been buried. I forced myself to look away. To focus on the room around me. Pack members everywhere. Talking in low voices. Offering condolences to each other. Some were crying. Others looked angry. And in the corner, watching everyone with that perfect smile, was Adeline. She wore her widow's dress well. Black and elegant. Her makeup was flawless. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue every few minutes, but I never saw actual tears. She was performing. Playing the grieving wife for an audience.

Vicky whispered at my side, “You’re terrifying.” I smirked. “I’m untouchable.” ★ ★ ★ Kael’s POV The whiskey scorched my throat, but it dulled nothing. The emptiness remained, gnawing. My phone buzzed, Miss Adeline’s name flashing. I answered, voice heavy. “Yes?” Miss Adeline’s voice shook. “Sir… There's a woman claiming to be your wife. Customers are leaving. The staff can’t contain her.” I pressed my hand against my forehead, shutting my eyes. Diana’s face haunted me. Her laughter. Her smile. Her absence.

I was shoved off to the side, barely in the frame. As she clutched the photo, she sobbed uncontrollably. "Adeline… my sweetheart… why did you leave so suddenly? Didn't you say you wanted to see the grasslands? We never even got to go with you…" Dad sat beside her, wiping his tears. "How did she get so skinny? The person in charge at the funeral home suggested we use a pup-sized coffin. She's all skin and bones. "Adeline, I failed you. I told you that I would buy you a little cake, just like when you were a kid, to make you round and happy again…"

But it wasn’t hers, mine, nor any of those dead Rogues around. “Who else was here?” Those questions lingered in my mind. That question lingered in my mind and what kept me going. I didn’t know who that scent belonged to – if it was one of the Rogues who attacked her, another victim… or one that tried to help her. Exhaling sharply, my grip on the glass became tighter as that scene that haunted me for years now clung to Adeline… Sipping a drink, I muttered under my breath. “It’s impossible… isn’t it?”

"We just need to get out of the open. We’ll find a place to hide together. A hollow log, a cave... anything." "Hide?" A sharp voice cut through the dark from just behind us. Even though I couldn’t see her face clearly, I knew it was Mirabel. I would recognize that sneering tone anywhere. "That’s your big plan, Adeline?" She chuckled and stepped closer. "You three really think hiding like scared rabbits is going to save you? If you had a single wolf between the three of you, maybe you’d have a real chance at surviving the night. But no, you’ll probably just trip over each other in the first five minutes and serve yourselves up on a silver platter."

Crash! Adeline flinched as the sound of shattering glass echoed from the other wing of the house. The sudden commotion pulled her from her seat; a storm was brewing, and she could already guess the source. In the hallway, a scene of domestic tyranny unfolded. Eleanor stood over one of the maids, her face contorted with a rage that aged her beyond her years. At her feet lay a mangled designer dress and a shattered glass, the floor a hazardous mosaic of liquid and shards.