Martha Reader Novels & Stories

Ava's POV I shifted in the bed but I couldn't feel my husband's warm body close to mine. Perhaps he went down to drink something to help him sleep well. He often had insomnia. I walked down the stairs to get some milk, I felt a bit uneasy and my wolf has been restless for some time now. I had gone for a run and tried so many things to calm her down, but they didn’t work. Sage was sitting on the stool in the kitchen, drinking some milk.

He smelled clean and fresh, like cedar and warm linen—he’d clearly showered after changing out of his riding clothes. Raphael’s steps were steady as he carried her home, his arms full of something warm and soft and perfect. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, dangerously close to breaking free—but on the surface, he was as composed as ever. Jaw tight, eyes cool. You’d never guess a single thing from the outside. He understood her now. He could read her expressions, pick up on her moods, anticipate her thoughts. That door between them—he’d finally found the key, and now that it was open, their relationship would only get smoother from here. She was his wife, not in name only but in trut

"She survived the fever in his own bed. And she carries a Prime Heir." The crowd parted as an older woman, standing tall with silver hair and piercing gold eyes, approached me. She looked at my stomach, then at my face. She reached out and touched the pulse in my neck. "I am Martha," she said. "I was the wife of Alaric’s uncle. I was the last woman to survive a Prime pregnancy before you. They told the world I died in childbirth, but I dug my way out of the Thorne crypt with my bare hands."

A L Y S S A The guards at the entrance take a curious look at me before they finally open the doors, allowing me passage. Inside, the space steals my breath, marble floors gleaming beneath towering ceilings, a sweeping staircase rising upward, light spilling from a chandelier so large it looks like it probably cost more than my entire livelihood. Then a woman appears, beautiful in her simple yet elegant grey dress, smiling back at me with politeness. "Miss Hart, welcome. Right this way." She says, and that's when she begins guiding me through a series of quiet hallways and into a sitting room filled with firelight and black velvet.

I turn white with fear when I see the person pushing the heavy-laden cart is Martha, the only person that loves and cares for me in this world. Martha is of African-American descent. The seventy-six-year-old maid has been asked to retire due to a hip injury that happened as a result of a bad fall but she outrightly refused to because of me. She was afraid I would one day be beaten to death if she was no longer around to watch over me and plead on my behalf

she soon gathered her wolves. ARH-WOOOOOO! Strangely, Martha remained calm to see a group of beasts that were about to attack her, “Listen, mam, I don't understand what you’re talking about, but I won’t forgive those who wrong me and my family, so prepare to be cleansed!” On the verge of death, Martha Horton gripped her rosary harder and prayed, ‘May the Lord in heaven give me the strength to purify all evils and to protect the innocents...’

Her eyes slowly widened when they landed on the figure of someone she had been looking for — David and for that moment her eyes were laid on him, Martha had stopped breathing. She terrifyingly watched as David shuffled in the library, as quiet as he could be — in the direction of Martha whom he saw fidgeting and looking down whenever his eyes landed on hers. It was hell easy to spot Martha for she was the only one who was shivering as if she were in a deadly chill — she was the one who sat as far from people, alone with eyes that wandered off instead of pasting themselves on the books right there, in front of her.

I stood by the door as the scene replays in my head again and again. Tears suddenly start slipping down my cheeks. Choking on my breathes, I walked toward the pile of wires on the wall. The floor was now dried of water. Lily was no longer on the floor. Martha Martha save me My heart tore out of my chest. Just then and there, I realised something that seemed so obvious. My love ones were dying according to the way I love them. First it was Ben, and then mom, and now, Lily. Who would be next. Kelly or Liam? I couldn't even save anyone, I tried three times but yet, here I was. It just wasn't enough.

“You don’t have to say anything to me, it’s my first day after all, but, feel free to call me anytime you need, all you have to do is shout, Catherine and i’ll be there.” “What happened to Martha?” “His majesty has sent her out on a few chores, she might be back before midnight, but if she’s slow it might take up to a day or two, where she’s at, I have no idea.” Like an open book she was easy to read, and was also able to guess what I was thinking before I even said it. I was going to keep her by my side because I found her characters amusing. “Did she go alone?”

Martha’s voice called softly from her chamber, and Nivera turned to find her maid—her only true friend—setting down a bundle of furs on the bed. “Martha.” Relief flooded her voice. She hurried over and embraced her, something she rarely did with anyone. “You’re back.” “I’ve missed you,” Martha said, smiling. “How was the trip?” Nivera sat down, brushing a hand through her silvery hair. “Strange,” she admitted. “Beautiful... but strange.” “Can I ask you something?” Nivera said quietly as Martha laid out the table. Martha glanced over her shoulder. “Of course.”