Isadora Quagmire Couplets Novels & Stories

"You’ve been staring at those couples for a while now." "And how do you know they are a couple?" The words came out sharper than I meant them to, clipped and tense. Isadora’s brows pulled together, the way they always did when she thought I was being ridiculous. Then a slow smile crept onto her lips. She followed my line of sight—to where Elena sat across from him—before looking back at me. "Oh?" she said lightly. "But why are you staring at the guy like you want to murder him?" She chuckled.

Isadora's POV Leonidas' continuous silence and indecision were starting to get on my nerves, and I couldn't bear the disrespect anymore. I turned my gaze toward Leonidas, my eyes burning with anger and frustration as I stepped forward. "I, Isadora Philip, of the Wild West Pack, reject you, King Leonidas, as my mate." With those words, I spun around and stormed off the balcony, leaving behind a crowd thrown into chaos. Whispers and murmurs spread like wildfire, and the shock of my rejection reverberated throughout the kingdom.

she whispered. The man said gently, "Hmm? Are you hungry? I'll be done soon. Just wait a minute." "Holden, I…I love you," said Isadora. Vireo was speechless. "Holden, let me marry you and be your wife. I'll carry your child and we'll have a bunch of them, alright, Holden? I love you…" Isadora's voice was even gentler than before. The man gently turned around and looked at her. He did not answer her, but he pinched her little nose. "Aren't you hungry? Have some food first."

John and Alice trembled with shock upon hearing Henry's words. Their eyes met briefly as they exchanged an unspoken message. "Xavier is impotent. How is it possible that you have a child?" Alice suddenly blurted out. Everyone froze, stunned by her unexpected outburst. Realizing the impact of her words, Alice quickly tried to explain herself. "I mean… You've been married for so long without conceiving. How did it happen all of a sudden?" I watched her silently, mulling over her earlier words.

Like, full-on coughing, nose-burning, nearly-sprayed-champagne choking. “You what?” I wheezed. “He said he was ‘perfecting his posture.’” Odessa mimed air quotes. “But he was growling at himself. In wolf form. Like—Grr.” The girls howled, and I wiped tears from my eyes. “Oh my days, I’m never going to unsee that.” “To our mated Queen,” Myra declared, raising her glass. “May her future include less brooding and more shirtless flexing.”