Double Crossed Novels & Stories

Yet, I still crossed it. I know I had to find Lily. I had no choice but to find the girl. I shifted once I crossed, knowing that my black pelt will make it more obvious I was not part of their pack, but I will be easier hidden in the shadows. I ran through the trees, picking up the faintest scent of Lilacs. It led me further and further away from safety but closer to Lily. That was… up until my senses got overwhelmed by the smell of coffee. O crap…

Riele said, offering a small smile as she crossed the threshold. The living room was cozy and familiar, filled with soft cushions and the scent of lavender. A quilt lay folded neatly over the back of the couch, and a stack of books rested on the side table. It felt like a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. As they settled on the couch, Charlotte handed Riele a warm cup of tea, the steam curling between them like a fragile connection. “What’s on your mind?” Charlotte asked, watching her friend carefully. Riele took a sip of the tea, letting the warmth calm her nerves before she spoke. “The competition’s been moved up. We leave in a few weeks.”

“We can start a business with that mouth.” “That's it! One more word and I'm driving into a tree!” His laughter roared in the car and a smile tugged at my lips. An easy going Cross was an interesting one. “So it doesn't matter if you're giving or receiving, as long as you're engaging in something sexual,” he pieced the dots together while I nodded. “Just so you know,” I turned to him and he wiggled his brows as he said, “You can go down on me anytime.”

" His plea only made me laugh. He wanted to use me as his scapegoat again? Did he really think I would be his fool for life? I crouched until our eyes were level. I gripped his chin tightly and whispered into his ear, "In our previous life, you and that woman drained me dry. And in this life, you want to suck me dry again? Patrick, do you really take me for an idiot?" His eyes widened in horror. "You... You're also..." "That's right," I sneered. "Just like you, I was reborn." Patrick shook his head frantically. "No... That's impossible! If you were reborn, then why didn't you buy this lottery ticket?"

Marceline’s eyes locked onto Cross, refusing to accept the words she just heard. It felt like a cruel joke, one so dark it threatened to shatter what little hope she was clinging to. Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper, but laced with desperate disbelief. “You’re joking, right?” Cross didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, he turned his face away, like a man hiding behind a mask of indifferent cruelty. “What if I was joking?” His voice was cold, edged with a dangerous mockery as if to test how far he could push her sanity.

“I won’t—I won’t ask again—” “You won’t,” Marcus agreed. The word landed like a door slamming shut. Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Suffocating. The morning traffic continued around them, but it felt distant, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them on that crosswalk. Marcus leaned in just enough that his voice dropped even lower—private, dangerous, the kind of calm that promised worse things if ignored. “I could make you disappear,” he said evenly. “And no one would ask questions.”

Nicholas muttered to himself before quickly dialing Madison's number. The moment the call got through, Madison asked, "Is Astrid still nowhere to be found? Several of my collaborations have been canceled, and I've also lost my endorsements!"

She crosses her arms. "Of course, and thank you", I hug her, "I needed this all day--and last night". "What happened last night... and today?", she asks, concerned. Oh, I got massively rejected by my childhood crush/boyfriend, witnessed an anti-New World faction meeting, broke up with said boyfriend, questioned my political beliefs, and had the longest and strangest encounter with the weirdest boy I've ever met (whom I've known for years)...

I led Gracie to the machine I decided to use next. The cross is a standard in many playrooms, but usually these require three strong people working together to use effectively, and they often injure somebody getting the occupant into position. Plus they never do what you expect. A lot of risk for not much results. However, I have a motorized cross that does an excellent job for one-man operation. It looks a little strange to folks who see it collapsed, pre-embrace. But once occupied and erect it is unmistakeable.

For three years, I used my family's mob ties and my own money to pave the way for Declan's crew. He was the boy I survived the streets with as a kid. But at this month's sit-down, his newly hired secretary, Roxy, tossed my casino ledgers and club records onto the table in front of all the guys. She accused me of skimming profits and slacking off. "These underground banks, these smuggling docks," she read the numbers out loud, her voice full of fake outrage. "Every time she bribes someone, she skims thousands of dollars! She's lining her own pockets." "I say the Boss strips her of her club manager title right now to save our cash flow." I glanced at Declan, the boss of the crew. He knew