Juno Hoslow Novels & Stories

Adrian asked, curiously pointing at the portrait. “A student drew that for me,” Kendall said as he poured a cup of coffee for Adrian. “Who’s that though?” “The legate.” “What?” Kendall nodded. “Juno is a seventeen-year-old girl who’s confined to a wheelchair. Her mother and she had prepared a feast to celebrate the return of her father, who was a soldier in the army. Yet, they found out that he had died in action—killed by Luposians. “That’s why Juno hates the Luposians to the core. Instead, she loves the legate and hopes that he would avenge her father’s death.

I’ve seen slaves and maids sneak down there before, sometimes for stolen goods, sometimes for sex, sometimes for things I don’t want to think about. So I know it leads somewhere, and tonight, it’s going to lead me out of here. This morning, I woke up a slave, but once, I was Serena, heir to the Silverpine Pack. Daughter of an Alpha. Luna in-waiting. I remember the way my pack and family looked at me with respect, with pride. I remember power. I was supposed to lead. To protect. Now, when people look at me, all they see is a slave, but I refuse to die as one.

asked Juno as she raised a slight brow while looking at Old Hughes. Looking at the old man for a while, Gerald then turned back to face Juno as he replied, “This is Old Hughes, and he’s the one who saved me!” “…Oh? I see! Well, then it’s a pleasure to meet you, Old Hughes! My name is Juno Zorn, and I’m the eldest young lady of the Zorn family! Thank you very much for saving Gerald!” said Juno with a gratuitous tone.

Halfway through rushing to change into his swim trunks, the words of the reporter on the television hit him like a bolt, and he grabbed the remote, clicking record like he had back home anytime something about this aired. "Felicita Morales, the widow of Trinidad Morales gave birth today to a baby girl, Trini Morales, named after the father she'll never get to meet. Trinidad, who lost his life just over a month ago in the ring after a blow to the head during a fight that burst an aneurism in his brain, was only twenty-two when the tragedy occurred."

She helps into the tab that’s filled with warm water and is packed with bath bombs, the whole bathroom smells wonderful like Jasmine. She helps me bathe, she scrubs my back while I scrub my front. While I continue to scrub the dirt off, she untangles my hair. After we are completely done, she prepares some simple clothing for me and I wear them. Just some leggings and a shirt with some canvas. “ We can go get food now,” She announces. I would have done a happy dance if I had the energy, but I am so drained out. Who keeps someone who is hungover hungry?

I smiled and took her hand in mine, kissing it as a manner of respect before walking toward my father. His eyes hardened, and taking a step back, he extended his hand for me to kiss, and doing as told; I bent down and kissed it. “Remember, Katerina, you are no longer beta. What you have learned and what you saw in our pack will be forgotten, do you understand me?” “Yes, father” I said, avoiding his eyes. I was the daughter of an Alpha, and yet, I was sent a slave to another. “Good, now go, your husband is waiting. We shall show ourselves out of the forest”

Unless. "Alpha Grayson."

She was like one of those ghosts of a sorrowful lady that had lost her way to the afterlife, but the only difference Morrigan is alive. As muddled as her mind was, she had already lost herself walking aimlessly with no intentions of remembering the way back, but with her circling the town she didn't found the way to the outskirts. Eventually, she found herself standing in the same place where the young slave she freed crouched in pain as he received his whips from his trader. She knelt on the ground and touched the stains of blood and mud that were left in the ground. The dried blood and mud flaked under her touch. She crouched on that very same spot, hugging herself, eventually resting her

He pulled a book from the nearest shelf without looking at the title and opened it to a random page, letting his eyes skim over words that refused to form meaning. "You're the new one." The voice came from his left. Marcus looked up. A young person sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, androgynous and striking, with close-cropped silver hair and eyes so pale they were almost colorless. They wore loose linen pants and an oversized sweater that hung off one shoulder, revealing a collarbone sharp enough to cut. Their feet were bare, toenails painted black. "I'm Juno." They said it without smiling, studying Marcus with the intensity of someone reading fine print. "Room 214. Been here six wee

It was quite easy to transform Jane Puckett, scholarship student and chronic coffee drinker, into Jailbird, the mysterious masked dancer in Fantasy Island. The hangover would have to wait. Bills didn't pay themselves.