Anastasia Savage Novels & Stories

And being the reasonably logical man that I was, I stuffed that can of worms deep down and refused to speak about it As I locked the door Tyrese and one of The Isley Brothers extolled the virtues of having a girl who loved them. Why the fuck did Tyrese ever think it was a good idea to team up with Tank and Ginuwine? Something small and soft touched my forearm and I barely resisted the urge to jump a mile and scream like a banshee, because what the fuck!! Looking down, I saw a hand. Long, slender fingers with bright coral nail polish, that contrasted sharply against smooth mahogany skin. I followed an arm covered by a red puffer jacket to a face with big chocolate brown eyes, stretched wide a

she whispered. Twenty minutes later, Alessandra was tearing through her suitcase with approval. “Except for this. This color flattens you out.” She tossed a dark purple dress aside. “You’re too pale and with your light hair and eyes, it’ll wear you.” Rihanna pouted, “I love that dress,” picking it up.

"So let's try this again, hi I'm Griffin Masters. Alpha asshole with an unearthly obsession with knives." I laughed out loud. "Hello, I'm Anastasia. Omega, with a freaky backstory."

She then looked at her Father and asked, "Why are you looking at me like this? I didn't say anything wrong." Hunter said, "You are right. The girl you are calling a bitch who is running around for money is actually Anastasia William, the famous model and the sole heir to a vast fortune. No one knows how much money she actually owns, but she owns so much money that even if she spends her entire life with both hands, her money won't decrease by a single cent.

“You look way too serious tonight. “ She says and my eyes flicker to her. Anastasia is one of the most popular models in the whole world right now. She recently signed a contract with a big fashion brand. Real, stunning beauty. She is also always in a good mood, ready for a party. The perfect distraction from a long, hard day. She knows NOTHING about politics or business. And yet I am here, my mind elsewhere. “I’m just tired because of the flight. “ I say. “I think I know a great way to help you wake up?” Anastasia crosses her legs and the dress opens to reveal long, perfectly- shaped limbs, smooth skin and legs that all men want wrapping around their shoulders. “What do you offer?” I ask an

It was genuine. “You must be Vittoria,” she said, already moving toward me. “I’m Anastasia.” She stopped short, eyes roaming my face, my posture, the sling on my arm. Her gaze was frank, unfiltered, professional. “Nikolai’s sister,” she added, as if that alone explained her presence and her energy. So this was her. She dressed in black, but not in the controlled severity Nikolai favored. Hers was layered, intentional chaos; textures clashing and somehow working, sharp lines softened by movement. A measuring tape hung around her neck like jewelry. Her fingers were faintly stained with chalk and ink.

Just a moment ago he was going on about how happy he was to see his mate, what was his issue? Anastasia stood up and started dressing in the fine material, sticking her tongue out at the other alpha childishly because she could. The top was tied around her waist going down to her thighs and the pants were flowy, both materials clearly expensive. The soft cream colour perfectly highlighted her hair, drawing attention to it.

"Listen up ,you Miss Nobody , i don't care where you should go to sleep ; even if you have to go in a pigsty to do so, i would never give a fuck. So from now on, you do your things , and i do mine! Got it? " " Can you tell me why you're so harsh with me ? " "YOU EXIST. " "I know that we don't know each other and..." "And i'm not interested in knowing you, so go now! " "I think that, it's useless...trying to talk to you...you'll always find a way to humiliate me as if i was a rag... I don't deserve this ... and i'm a victim, just like you! " "Should i pity you? No! I don't and i won't ! "

I say after inspecting every dress in this room. “I’m so glad you love it, your highness.” Anastasia Ivanov, the fashion designer, says with a proud smile on her face. She’s tall, has a pointy nose, silver eyes like all vampires, and pale like all vampires, long blonde hair, a heart-shaped face and slender shoulders. She’s wearing a beautiful dress that proves she has good style, and I won’t be surprised if she tells me that the dress was made by her. “I’ve got to say, I never thought that I would be making clothes for werewolves,” she says, looking at her masterpiece. “I thought the job was going to be impossible, but seeing the look on your face, I guess I did it justice.”

​That night, under the gaze of the rising moon, the sinful Saintess chose her own path. In the silence of the tower room, there was only the sound of ragged breath and a hiss of satisfaction as Killian’s fangs pierced her soft skin, marking a new chapter in a curse that refused to end.