Maeve Quinlan Novels & Stories

Before my grandfather, the Don of the Rinaldi family, dies, he leaves behind a will. The five Principessas of the Rinaldi family are forbidden from using our family name. We must live like ordinary people until one of us gives birth to the first heir. Whoever does so will inherit everything. For three years, I keep my identity hidden. My husband, Oliver Wright, and I live in a cramped apartment to the south of Windmere. Every morning, we squeeze onto the subway to get to work. When we're short on money, we stay up late making plans and racking our brains trying to keep his small company afloat. I never think life is hard because I love him. One day, the doctor hands me my medical test results—I am the first one to become pregnant. Upon learning this, my whole body trembles with excitement. The life that Oliver and I have struggled toward for years suddenly feels within reach. I drive home with a happy smile on my face as I imagine how he will react. But when I push the door open, I see a woman wearing my favorite nightgown. She is sitting with Oliver, sharing the apple I left in the refrigerator with him. He takes a bite from her hand and glances at me casually. "My first love, Maeve Young, is back. Let's get a divorce." My fingers tighten around the pregnancy test report. Then, I smile and say, "Sure." What he doesn't know is that his penniless, patient, obedient, and endlessly forgiving wife has a last name powerful enough to open every door in Windmere. I will keep this child, and the family fortune will still pass to me. As for my husband, Oliver? I'm ready to let him go.

Tout le monde savait que Silas Martinez, l'un des trois célibataires les plus convoités de Genima City, et Hazel Kovacs, une riche héritière, formaient un couple fusionnel. Ce que personne n'ignorait, c'est que je l'aimais bien avant qu'elle ne fasse irruption dans sa vie. Enfin, si— lui le savait. Je lui avais déclaré ma flamme au lycée. Puis un jour, à peine séparé d'Hazel, il était venu me trouver : « Maeve, je t'aime. Épouse-moi. » Comme une idiote, je m'étais noyée dans le bonheur, jouant les épouses modèles au cœur de la cage dorée qu'il m'avait bâtie. Trois ans plus tard, la sinistre réalité venait de me rattraper : Hazel, son ex, avait commis un meurtre, et toutes les attentions de mon mari n'étaient qu'un piège minutieux pour me faire porter le chapeau. « Désormais, il n'y a plus aucun risque pour vous empêcher de devenir la nouvelle madame Martinez, mademoiselle Kovacs. » Hazel et Silas m'ont arraché ce que j'avais de plus précieux au monde. Ils s'imaginent que leur plan est parfait, sans se douter une seconde que c'est moi qui vais les envoyer tous les deux dans le couloir de la mort.

Maeve Ford after graduating high school decides to leave Cario, Egypt for the united states of America in search of her brother who had gone missing for years, to find some clues which could lead her to her brother, she steals a book sorted out by every illegal syndicate, powerful Clans, and even the Mafia, this makes her become a target, and amidst everything she gets caught up in a misunderstanding, entangled with a cold-hearted Ceo, and with the increasing need to find her brother she goes into a contract marriage with the enemy """""''''''' " Let me be clear Miss Ford" He growled, his voice slightly husky but cold, his gaze never leaving her face as he closed the distance between them, trapping her with his hands against the wall. The fresh musky scent of sandalwood mixed with some other fragrance that would usually put her in a conscious state filled her nostrils but this time she was more concerned with how close their bodies were. Her heart began to race, and her breath caught, she didn't like the way her body reacted to him but she had no control over it. She clenched her fist with her gaze fixed on him, and his on her, his silver-grey eye terrorized her but she wasn't willing to show any form of weakness. He leaned closer toward her ears and she finally let out her breath but the relief was short-lived as she felt his breath on her skin, causing a chill to run down her spine. "I don't care what image you've built to convince.." He whispered, his voice raspy as his words trailed off after which he continued."But, I won't hesitate to kill you, if you so much as pose a threat to his life."

No salão VIP de um cassino clandestino, Maeve, a princesa da família Falcone, havia sido servida com bebida forte em excesso. Movida pelo álcool, alguém a provocou a revelar a coisa mais vergonhosa que ela já tinha feito para conquistar o Don. Ela girou o copo, apontou para mim, distribuindo cartas atrás da mesa, e jogou a cabeça para trás, gargalhando. — Sete anos atrás, quando o Declan estava em coma depois de um tiroteio, eu peguei o celular particular dele. Apaguei a mensagem de socorro que aquela vadia mandou para ele, cada último vestígio, e depois respondi no lugar dele: “Você é um fardo. Vá morrer.” — Vocês nunca vão adivinhar o que aconteceu depois: aquela idiota ficou a noite inteira do lado de fora do esconderijo, debaixo de uma chuva torrencial, como um cachorro de rua. Eu quase morri de tanto rir… O salão explodiu em gargalhadas grosseiras. Apenas o homem entronado na cabeceira da mesa permaneceu em silêncio. O copo de uísque de cristal em sua mão se estilhaçou com um estalo seco. O sangue se misturou ao líquido âmbar, escorrendo pelas veias do dorso da sua mão antes de pingar no carpete. Seus olhos injetados, assassinos, estavam cravados em mim. Com calma, distribuí a última carta fechada à sua frente e ofereci um lenço de seda branco, impecável. — Don Declan, você deveria limpar a mão. Sangue no feltro dá azar. Afinal, algumas manchas nunca saem completamente.

“What am I doing? What were you doing letting another man feel you up?” “I don’t belong to you. I can let whoever I want to feel me up. Take a hint Declan.” I ran a hand over her arms and watched as goosebumps rose on her skin. I could smell her arousal, and knew every alpha could too. I was overwhelmed with the urge to carry her away and lock her up for my eyes only. I settled for pulling her into me and burying my face into her hair. Her scent drove me crazy. She smelled so sweet, so safe, like home. “Does his touch make you feel like this? Does his scent make your pussy purr, Maeve?” She gasped, and I watched, satisfied, as a blush crawled onto her face. Without a word, she had given me my answer. She could deny the way we reacted to each other with her words, but the body didn’t lie. She wanted me. ********* One night. One mistake. One bond that will never break. It was supposed to be nothing more than a freshman party with loud music, bad drinks, and no consequences. But when I locked eyes with him, I knew I was walking straight into trouble. I did it anyway. He’s been searching for me, watching me, and obsessing over me. The possessive alpha he keeps buried slips closer to the surface every time I push back and remind him I don’t belong to anyone. But bonds don’t care about pride. And the darker his desire gets, the harder it becomes to tell whether I’m running from him… or provoking him on purpose. Because the truth is, I never forgot that night either. And some knots were never meant to be broken.

Seris Vale a passé dix-neuf ans comme le fantôme de la Meute d’Emberpine. Fille de l’Oméga maudit, elle est tenue responsable de tous les malheurs, son loup brutalement réprimé jusqu’à ce qu’elle ne soit plus qu’une ombre. Lors de la cérémonie de la Lune des Moissons, son lien d’âme sœur se révèle et la relie à Aidan Rowan, l’héritier de l’Alpha. L’espace d’un instant, le destin la reconnaît. Puis Aidan la rejette publiquement et choisit sa demi-sœur Maeve, brisant le lien devant toute la meute. Accusée de trahison et menacée de mort, Seris s’enfuit et s’effondre sur le territoire interdit du Roi des Lycans. Kaelan Draven devrait l’exécuter. Au lieu de cela, il lui offre protection et entraînement. Sous sa tutelle, Seris se transforme. Son loup s’éveille pleinement, révélant un don redoutable : elle perçoit les émotions et les intentions, transperçant les mensonges. C’est pour cela qu’Emberpine l’a brisée. Quand Seris découvre la vérité sur le meurtre de sa mère et le complot qui l’a maintenue faible, elle sait qu’elle doit revenir. Pour être libre, elle devra rompre son premier lien… et affronter ce qu’Emberpine a créé. La fille de l’Oméga est morte. La Luna Sauvage s’élève.

En el salón VIP de un casino clandestino, Maeve, la princesa de la familia Falcone, había bebido demasiado licor fuerte. Empujada por el alcohol, alguien la incitó a revelar lo más vergonzoso que había hecho para ganarse al Don. Hizo girar su copa, me señaló —yo repartía cartas detrás de la mesa— y echó la cabeza hacia atrás con una carcajada. —Hace siete años, cuando Declan estaba en coma tras un tiroteo, tomé su teléfono privado. Y borré el mensaje de auxilio que esa perra le envió. Hasta el último rastro. Luego respondí en su nombre: *Eres una carga. Vete a morir.* —No se imaginan lo que pasó después. Esa idiota se quedó afuera de la casa segura toda la noche bajo la lluvia, como un perro callejero. Casi me muero de la risa… La sala estalló en carcajadas vulgares. Solo el hombre entronado en la cabecera permaneció en silencio. La copa de whisky de cristal en su mano estalló con un chasquido seco. La sangre se mezcló con el licor ámbar, deslizándose por las venas del dorso de su mano antes de gotear sobre la alfombra. Sus ojos, inyectados en sangre, cargados de una violencia mortal, estaban clavados en mí. Yo repartí con calma la última carta boca abajo frente a él y le ofrecí un pañuelo de seda blanco, impecable. —Don Declan, debería limpiarse la mano. La sangre sobre el paño da mala suerte. Después de todo… hay manchas que nunca se borran.

For my birthday, I got a gift box. Inside was a dead silver fox. Its fur was peeled away. Dark, profane runes were carved into its flesh. My wolf cried out in agony, then shattered. I desperately reached for my Alpha, Darian, through our mate bond. “Darian… help me… My wolf… my heart…” His response was ice cold. “Maeve, stop being so dramatic. It’s just a prank. A Luna should be stronger than this. Amara has a fever. I’m with her.” He just cut the bond. He chose his childhood friend over me. Her mate had recently died, and she only had a low-grade fever. I was left to collapse in agony. I didn't get help until a pack beta found me and rushed me to the medical center. It took me three whole days to recover. When Darian finally came back, reeking of Amara’s sweet perfume, he sneered at me. "I knew you were faking it. How could a dead fox hurt you? You just wanted to stop me from comforting her!" I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just handed him a document to sign. Compensation, I said, for choosing Amara over me. He signed it without even looking. "Is this about money? Don't be another jealous she-wolf. Don't cause trouble for me. I can give you anything. Amara and I grew up together. She's important to me. You know that." I just nodded. I didn't say a word. The next day, he took Amara to an Alpha-only alliance dinner. Pictures were all over the werewolf social feeds. He had no idea what he’d signed. It wasn’t a compensation agreement. It was a rejection of our mate bond. I counted down the three days. I calmly packed my most precious things. Then, I pulled out my burner phone. “Uncle Marcus? I need a private jet to the South.”

Na manhã do meu décimo oitavo aniversário, eu desmaiei na clínica da alcateia após minha nonagésima nona doação de sangue para minha irmã gêmea, Maeve. Ela havia sido amaldiçoada desde o nascimento uma maldição que só podia ser contida pelo meu sangue. O vínculo que compartilhávamos desde o ventre era a única coisa mantendo a magia sombria sob controle. Quando acordei, a curandeira me disse que eu havia desenvolvido anemia aplástica uma condição rara em que a medula óssea começa a falhar. Anos de doações constantes finalmente haviam destruído meu corpo, e minha loba, Aurora, estava fraca demais para lutar contra aquilo. Corri para contar à minha família, esperando que, desta vez, fosse diferente, apenas para encontrá-los na confeitaria encomendando um bolo de aniversário personalizado com apenas o nome de Maeve. Eles tinham esquecido completamente do meu aniversário, mesmo sendo gêmeas e tendo nascido com apenas cinco minutos de diferença. No começo, meu sacrifício era recebido com amor e elogios. Agora, não passava de uma obrigação que todos esperavam de mim. Minha família havia escolhido Maeve em vez de mim inúmeras vezes antes. Desta vez, eu decidi escolher a mim mesma. Eu tinha duas semanas antes de desaparecer daquela casa da alcateia e da vida deles. Duas semanas para preparar tudo em silêncio enquanto permaneciam completamente alheios. Eles pensariam que eu finalmente havia aprendido meu lugar como a fonte de sangue de Maeve. Mas nunca perceberiam que eu estava contando os dias até desaparecer da vida deles para sempre. Quando descobrissem, já seria tarde demais.

Dans le salon VIP d'un casino clandestin, Maeve, la princesse de la famille Falcone, avait avalé bien trop d'alcool ce soir là. Portée par l'ivresse, quelqu'un l'a poussée à révéler la chose la plus honteuse qu'elle ait jamais faite pour conquérir le Don. Elle a fait tourner son verre entre ses doigts, m'a désignée alors que je distribuais les cartes derrière la table, puis a rejeté la tête en arrière en éclatant de rire. « Il y a sept ans, quand Declan était dans le coma après une fusillade, j'ai pris son téléphone privé. Et j'ai effacé le message de détresse que cette fille lui avait envoyé. Absolument toutes les traces. Ensuite, j'ai répondu en son nom : Tu es un fardeau. Va crever. » « Vous ne devinerez jamais ce qui s'est passé après. Cette idiote est restée toute la nuit sous une pluie battante devant la planque, comme un chien errant. J'ai failli mourir de rire… » La pièce a éclaté d'un rire grossier. Seul l'homme installé en bout de table, tel un roi, est resté silencieux. Le verre de whisky en cristal qu'il tenait à la main s'est brisé dans un craquement sec. Le sang s'est mêlé au liquide ambré, a ruisselé sur les veines du dos de sa main, puis a goutté sur le tapis. Ses yeux froids, injectés de sang, étaient fixés sur moi. Avec calme, j'ai distribué la dernière carte fermée devant lui avant de lui tendre un mouchoir de soie blanche et immaculée. « Don Declan, vous devriez essuyer votre main. Du sang sur le tapis de jeu, ça porte malheur. » Après tout, certaines taches ne partent jamais.