Clarisse Agbegnenou Novels & Stories

A pair of black G-string lace panties. She smirked, zipped it back up, and returned to her seat. Moments later, Luca re-entered. "My apologies," he said curtly. "Now, if we're done....." Clarisse stood, smoothing her dress. "Yes. We are. But I'll be back, Mr. Morano. Some deals are worth pursuing twice." She offered a smile full of suggestion before strutting out the door. As she stepped into the elevator, her phone buzzed. She answered immediately.

Claire I stood just outside the enormous building, staring up at it. I glanced down at the address in my hand again and swallowed hard. I moved to the ignition button and pressed it gently, after a little wait, a low voice came through, deep and masculine. “Yes, who is that?” I swallowed again, my throat suddenly dry. What am I doing? Should I really proceed with this? “I—I’m Claire. Claire Anthony. Is this the residence of Mr. Liam King?” I asked, my voice a little shaky.

"Thank you for saving her." "I am Gabby Florence, a cultivator, and I just came from 3 years of training in Mt. Alebasi. My clan were physicians; it's my duty to treat any patient, regardless of their nature and status." "I'm sorry for my impudent actions awhile ago. Please let me treat you to dinner as my apology," I humbly offered. "That will do! By the way, how can I address you?" was his nice response. As expected, people from Mt. Albasi were really humble and kind. He lived up to their reputation.

During the evening she raped me twice more in the same way. And there’s nothing I could do to stop her. Sometime in the early morning, I wake up and notice that the fog in my head is largely lifted. The drugs have almost worn off. Still a little stiff from the night's activities, I slowly turn my head and look at the sleeping face on the pillow next to me. To my horror, I recognize her. This is Clairy, the daughter of Abi and Jonas from Barbados!

Klair says. "Can I keep this?" I ask with tears in my eyes. "Of course dear " Klair says back squeezing my forearm. I see a photo of what looks like a little Michael holding a baby. "Is that Michael holding one of his brothers?" I say smiling. "No honey that's you." Klair responds. "Oh look here is one of you, Clarissa, Michael, Remy and Shade." Klair says with a sad smile. "Clarissa?" I say questioning eyes. "Yes, Clarissa was my niece. She died with the pack." Klair says with a tear slipping down her cheek.

He left the sitting _room immediately in Angers. Clara has been on the run for ten hours now. She did actually manage to find a place to sleep last night. And Now, it was actually morning. Wandering out of nowhere, she decided to enter the studio and perhaps hide there, so that people wouldn't see her. But she guessed wrong. All she could see at the moment was her picture printed on the wall and there were words written on top of it boldly "Wanted '' were the words written in her banner pictures Which were posted everywhere in the studio. She took a step backwards about to turn when someone grabbed hold of her.

When rain came, the soil turned to dark sludge that clung to her dress like dried blood. Clarisse was different. Where Seraphine had been golden-haired and bold—the one who climbed the estate’s tallest oak to rescue a trapped sparrow—Clarisse was chestnut-haired and quiet, a shadow in a family that demanded spotlights. Where Zephyrine wrote poetry in the margins of her books—lines about "stairs that hunger" and "balconies that whisper"—Clarisse wrote nothing. She learned the rules early: Never mention the missing chairs. Smile when strangers visit.

Clarissa POV I looked through the window and listened to make sure no one was coming. I quickly gathered a few of my belongings, threw them in the bag, and quickly made a run for them. The moon goddess knew why he gave me this opportunity to escape this hell hole, and I will use it effectively. I practically ran down the stairs, grateful for my strength and stamina, even though I was only five feet tall. The building was a four-story building that was painted gold and purple, for reasons best known to Alpha Clay.

"Say it again." "Claire—" "Say it again." My voice is different. I don't recognize it. "Please say it again so that I know I heard it correctly." She meets my eyes. And there is something in hers — not cruelty exactly. Something worse than cruelty. The blankness of someone who genuinely does not understand the size of what they've just put down on the table. Who reached into the drawer for a tool and used it and doesn't understand that the tool was a grenade.

I grabbed the remote with fingers that didn’t feel like mine and flicked the TV on. Clarissa stopped laughing mid-sentence. Her body went rigid beside me. And then I saw it. Clarissa kneeling on the floor of what I recognized instantly as Nicho’s old penthouse. Her face streaked with tears. Her voice breaking in a way I hadn’t heard since the darkest nights of this mess. “Nicho, please. I want you back. I’m doing everything, everything to make you come back to me. Just tell me what you want me to do. Please… please.”