Jinkx Monsoon Novels & Stories

The music in Club Eden throbbed like a second pulse, low and relentless, stitched into every wall and mirrored ceiling. Raven moved through it like a shadow, her black silk dress slipping over her skin as though it belonged there. The new bartender barely looked up when she smiled at him, just a flash of dimples, the kind that made men think they were being let in on a secret, but tonight wasn’t about teasing drinks out of strangers. Tonight was about information. The journalist in her, the part that had never stopped hunting, even when Jaxon’s touch made her want to forget, had sharpened itself again. Zane was growing bolder, and Jaxon was growing colder, and somewhere between them she was

Blend in, keep your head down, and move on before anyone gets too close. As she walked down the bustling hallway, murmurs and whispers followed her. She was used to it. She didn't just blend in. She found her locker and fumbled with the combination, her hands trembling slightly. As she opened it, she caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror inside. Her long, curly silver hair cascaded down her back like molten moonlight, shimmering with an otherworldly glow. It was the kind of hair that defied explanation, the kind that drew eyes and sparked curiosity exactly what she didn't need.

“I didn’t get the chance to thank you.” Her breath shook. “Thank me? You kissed me without my permission,” she whispered. “You scared me. And now—now you’re here? Why? What do you want from me?” The corner of his mouth tilted, almost amused. “So you know who I am.” “You’re Adriano Greco,” she said, her voice trembling. “The monster people talk about.” He took another step closer. “Monster?” he repeated softly. “That’s what they call me?”

Then the Beta stepped forward with a daughter at his side—tall, polished, wearing a ceremonial gown like she’d been born into it. Selah Dorne. Her scent rolled across the clearing like roses over rot—too sweet, too sharp, too deliberate. Kieran faced her without looking away from me. “I accept Selah Dorne,” he said, as if the words didn’t cost him anything. The priest hesitated—then lifted the bowl, forced by politics, by pressure, by the pack’s watching eyes. The Moonwater shimmered. And then— It turned black. A ripple spread across the surface, dark as bruised ink.

Up until this point she has shocked me with her responses to what she was told. Jaxson at that moment, reached for his mother’s hand and took it into his. I wondered if he too was worried about what he was about to tell her and what her response would be, but when he says to her, “Mother, the Moon Goddess has truly blessed me and our pack with a blessing that is so rare that we will be the first to accept it.” He then paused as he turned to look at me and I could see the love in his eyes for me before he turned back to his mother and said, “Quinn is a direct descendant of our Moon Goddess.”

Specific days are specific themes: Monday: Lacy Red Tuesday: Sexy Blue Wednesday: Goth Black Thursday: Animal Print Friday: Sparkle and Glitter Saturday: Thongs and Bongs (basically things only unless the lady is uncomfortable) Sunday: Sunday’s Best (unless lady is uncomfortable) I sighed with a bit of relief knowing that if I was uncomfortable with going topless or even naked, I had an option to not to. I was measured and fitted for my outfits I’d be wearing here. “Do you own a house or anything?” Ginger asked seriously.

Even though Nathaniel and I grew up together, I couldn’t say I was particularly familiar with his uncle. So, after a brief exchange of pleasantries, Liam returned to the banquet hall. I thought that was the end of it until a waitress suddenly approached me with a glass of warm water and a packet of painkillers. "The gentleman said that rather than an extra coat, you might need this more." I was startled. Looking around, I quickly realized something—I had unknowingly been standing in the only spot on the balcony shielded from the wind. A sharp pain in my lower abdomen made it impossible to ignore the gesture.

Three weeks ago. The night of the blood moon. I ran alone through the high passes, heavy with young—nine moons along, the pup quickening with every step. The trail gave way. I tumbled, striking stone and ice, wedged in a crevice where the cold would finish what gravity began. I sent my call through the spirit-web to the healers. Needed the Alpha's permission to cut the pup from my dying flesh. Ninety-nine summons. Silence. The hundredth time, the bond stirred.

Her muscles tensed, and a primal energy surged within her overriding her rational thoughts but she could still hear being called. It was as if every fibre of her being was awakening to a call, a siren call, a call she couldn't resist. The transformation began with a sharp, searing pain spreading from her fingertips to her toes. Nova clenched her jaw, gritting her teeth against the agony as her bones stretched and reshaped beneath her skin. Her body lengthening and shifting into a more feral form. Her senses heightened, each scent, sound, and sight amplified to an overwhelming degree. She could even hear the sound of the clanking plates that came falling from her grandmother's hands as she be

she whispered, cursing Barry again for leaving her so wound up and needy. She finished her quick breakfast, then leaned back in the chair. Glancing around to confirm she was truly alone, Monica May unbuttoned her jacket, spread her long legs, and slipped a hand beneath her tight dress. Her fingers dipped under the waistband of her panties and found her soaked, aching slit. She grazed her swollen clit, then pushed a finger inside, confirming just how messy and wet she still was from Barry’s load.