Irina Denali Novels & Stories

She was right, something doesn’t feel right. “ No, I just.. I’m not a fan of alphas” he explained giving her a small smile “ oh.. well I’m technically Luna so you can talk to me I guess. But you do have to respect Erik as your alpha. I can not stop him from punishing you for such you might be my brother but you are still a new pack member” that’s my girl. A chuckle escaped my lips as she put him in his place a lot nicer than I would have.

Camila stood on the balcony staring out into the cloudless sky, they were going home and there wasn’t any part of her that wanted to leave and go back home. She wanted to live her life swimming with the dolphins and climbing mountains but Roman had work, he had to get back to. Her suggestion that they relocated didn’t really get any approval so there she was staring with a sour face hoping that Roman would change his mind. She heard his footsteps coming towards her and his perfume filled her nose as he leaned against the railing staring into the sky too.

He told her. "If you do that, you wouldn't be seeing him today. I'm his right hand. The person after him. I could put in words for you to enable the meeting hold today, if you want me to. Otherwise, I'll return to my office," Caitlyn voiced out with her usual smile. Martin clenched his teeth and his fists in anger. The smile she held irritated him. To be the right hand of lawyer Bernard, she must be extremely smart and intelligent. Martin despised smart women.

No lupus garou but her would be Caleb’s mate. The smell of Ragnar pelted Diana before she caught sight of him. Turning, she found he’d sneaked up behind her, sniffing. She was sure he tried to see if Caleb was still keeping her well satisfied. She snarled at Ragnar. He shoved his way between her and Vernetta, his black fur standing on end, his neck just as thick as she’d remembered it, his body hefty and deadly.

Not because he was fat or he had a dead brother, not because he was weird or he had a nickname that mocked his entire identity. Because she didn’t care about all that. She knew he had fallen for her and she helped him out of it. To fall for another she couldn’t see. Irene. Katharina Stones. She couldn’t see but only believed when she was faced with the truth. That she was real. NOW And she looked up from the text she was about to write to Sally. She had gotten her new number from her best friend, Jeffrey. And after two years, she was actually willing to make amends. To finally embrace the person she was in Rennè.

, I tried saying but Irina interrupted me. “You don't need to understand and just hear me! Nikolai isn't the person you think he is! He has killed alot of people, destroyed families, smuggled weapons and money, owns warehouses of guns and other illegal weapons... Don't you see how he tried to kill me! Can't you see the bruises on my face?! He wouldn't even bat an eye when he is tasty for your blood!”, Irina said, holding my arms and trying to talk sense into me, I kept on shaking my head.

Nova’s eyes widened. Liam leaned in. “A daughter?” Tatiana nodded. “Hidden in plain sight. Sent to private boarding schools, raised by caretakers. Never publicly claimed. But she exists.” The photo showed a girl no, a woman, twenty-two, sharp-eyed, and eerily beautiful. Dark hair, pale skin. And a tattoo on her wrist: A scorpion, curled in fire. “Irena named her after her mother,” Tatiana said. “Yelena Volkov.” Nova sat back.

Arla added. "Common not you too, she already apologized," I frowned. "I know that, my point is that you shouldn't paint her as a totally great sister when she isn't." "Fine, I get your point." "What's your problem? Do you have an issue with me?" Irina sneered at her. "I definitely have a problem with you, rira," Maya glared back at her, not backing down. "It's Irina, Maya," Naya whispered. "Why should I care," Maya hissed, unbothered and Irina gritted her teeth in anger. If there was one thing Irina hated, it was people spoiling her name.

The whimpers and cries. "It's a girl!" Someone exclaimed joyfully. Dinara smiled. She had always known. Radina Monette Vasiliy. Yes. That's her name. My precious one. _________________

Rios kissed the middle-aged woman’s hand before ushering them to the venue. Moments later, a chopper hovered above the clearing. Wind whipped across Rios’s face as the blades roared a few feet from him. “Irina Volkova,” Rios said, nodding as the woman in her early 40s stepped down from the aircraft. Irina was the daughter of a Soviet-era smuggler and was also a longtime friend. Though that friendship once blurred into a three-day drunken sexcapade, that had never been repeated.