Celeste Dubois Novels & Stories

Celeste’s POV Shaylee took me to a cute bistro in town to have a snack and coffee. “So tell me about yourself Celeste! I’m so excited to have a sister!” Shaylee cooed with glee in her eyes. I smiled bashfully and said, “well, there isn’t much to tell…I’m Celeste, I’m from Louisiana, and I am going to UT. I’m now your brother’s personal assistant, and yeah…that’s about where we’re at.” She laughed at my quickened version of ‘get to know you’. “Well, my name is Shaylee Monroe, I am the sister to the alpha and the future mate to his gamma, Darrius. So, I am naturally the head female warrior trainer as well.” Shaylee’s cute smile turned somewhat more serious very quickly.

"What if wanting these things—wanting to dominate her, mark her, push her limits—what if that makes me the monster everyone thinks I am?" *Or what if it just makes you human? Someone with complex desires who's capable of both tenderness and intensity? Celeste isn't some delicate flower who needs to be handled with kid gloves. She's a grown woman who knows what she wants. And if the memories are accurate, what she wanted was exactly what you gave her.*

“What exactly are you?” She glanced around at all the tables around them. Most people were still staring at them. Leo hoped that no one would remember his face and ask him later about the woman. “My name is Celeste,” she said softly. “I’m your boyfriend’s only friend. He’s coming soon. There aren’t too many deaths today so we have a little more time here than usual.” He was struck again by the casual reference to death. He reminded himself that she and Nocturne spent every day dealing with death. It was commonplace to them.

Celeste Valentina Morau and Remy Tsatoke waited in the corridor—dressed for the dance. Celeste wore a floor-length black gown with crimson velvet accents—silver fang embroidery along the neckline, twin platinum tails high and playful, Lakeside Rams hoodie swapped for elegance. She looked sixteen but radiated Daywalker power—sunlight and lightning in human form. Remy stood beside her—black suit with crimson tie, silver beads in his braided hair, fang wristband matching the group’s. Coyote grin lazy, eyes gold-ringed storm-gray. Celeste smiled—small, knowing.

Celeste arrived at four minutes past ten. She was dressed in ivory today rather than cream, a deliberate shift toward formality, and she had brought a man Jade did not recognise who was clearly her attorney. She entered with the composed confidence of someone who had prepared for this room and believed she had the advantage in it. She looked at Dominic once with an expression that contained a great deal of history compressed into very little space. She looked at Jade with an expression that was assessing and tight and underneath the professional surface was something that told Jade the envelope had not had the effect Celeste had hoped for.

“Who is Celeste?” Maverick tossed a blood-streaked file onto the table with a force that made the papers flutter, their contents now written in urgency. “Her name wasn’t even Celeste. Real identity: Silvia Mareaux. Former heiress to the Mareaux shipping empire. Disgraced after being caught in a massive inheritance fraud – blamed the Montroses and the Crests for exposing her. She vanished years ago.”

That had been about eight months ago. Celeste possessed a natural beauty. Her eyes were large, deep, and dark, her lips full and pink, her curly hair a rich dark shade, and her complexion fair. Though she wasn’t very tall, her slender figure gave her a poised, elegant air. There was an almost timeless grace about her, coupled with an extraordinary charm that often drew attention. In fact, this was precisely why she wasn’t often assigned to greet the children—some of the mothers felt intimidated by the young woman’s striking appearance.

Amara chuckled, “you are right alpha, there is no room for discussion. You will take me with you willingly or I will make you.” Azai’s eyes flashed black, “confident little wolf, aren’t you?” I struggled to regain control of Amara, but I couldn’t. In the reflection of Azai’s eyes, I could see my eyes glowing brighter, and a sudden warmth was creeping through my body. “I am the Celestite wolf, I answer to the Moon Goddess Selene, I am not bound to the orders of any alpha. You will take me with you to the capital.” “I will take you with me to the capital,” he repeated.

“No half-measures. We keep the Malibu house. We come home to this when it gets too dark.” Celeste looked at him, warmth blooming in her ribs even as her pulse drummed. “Home.” Damien brushed his lips against her hair. “Always.” That night, she lay awake beside him while he drifted off, one hand on her hip like a promise. She could feel the edges of the script under her skin already, the grief, the rage, the cold, bright freedom of burning it all down on her own terms. She was Celeste Laurent, the comeback queen, the villain’s survivor, the lover, the wife, the rebellion that refused to die pretty. And this role, this brutal little film nobody wanted, would be the sharpest blade she’d ever ho