My Husband My Savior Novels & Stories

He proffered a white nylon to me and I collected it. What a life saver. "Thanks"I smiled. "I'm a life saver, right ?"He whispered into my ears. That...feels eerie. But ,I reply him anyway . "indeed , I'm grateful " I kept the nylon on my thigh and focus on what Mrs pershing was saying. "You can introduce yourself " Mrs pershing said to the girl behind her. "I'm Savannah ,savvy for short"she stepped out with a smile. "Waoh ; she's really beautiful "I heard Fred muttered.

I gazed up at him, seeing only divinity. “Father-Husband… My god,” I whispered euphorically, hand on my belly. “I am Your divine wife and future mother. Fully broken. Fully Yours. Thank You for this sacred purpose.” The chapel candles flickered as I nestled against him, irreversible dependency wrapping around my heart like the prayer ropes. There was no Sophia anymore, only the vessel for His holy bloodline. Joy filled me in the darkness. This was salvation.

“And about the way I behaved to you all at the gates last night, I sincerely apologize. I shouldn’t have lost my temper and spewed that type of threat I did but I ask you to understand that when a terrified man thinks the love of his life is in danger, he doesn’t think about headlines or courtesy.” Myla turned to him then, soft but fierce. “Hayden,” she said so the mics caught every syllable, “the only thing people should take from last night is that my husband loves me. We have been through worse than rumors, worse moments. We will always stand together.” His eyes shifted to Myla’s then, a soft, private look that the cameras zoomed in on instantly. The image was undeniable: powerful CEO, de

He asked again, "Then what?" Perhaps it was time to tell my grandfather my thoughts. I took a deep breath and spoke in a firm tone, "She saved me, and I am grateful, but gratitude and affection are not the same thing. I only take her as my sister. Whether it is to repay her or out of sympathy, it is unfair to both of us." "Don't tell me all this nonsense. I just want to ask you, will you marry her or not?" His tone was icy. "I'm sorry, but I can't comply."

I allow Zahara to help me up, and she laughs when she sees my backside. “What’s so funny?” “You have rocks and twigs everywhere. You have the indentions of the the forest floor on your back.” I pull Zahara to me and kiss her forehead. “It was worth it for you to be blemish free.” Zahara leans up and kisses me. We turn and walk toward the packhouse hand in hand. I never knew my life could be like this, that I could be this happy. I never imagined having a wolf or a mate, and now I have both. I don’t know what I did to be so blessed, but I’m forever thankful.

I was shocked and clutched my chest when a man's voice greeted me, he came from the side of the house, carrying several pieces of wood in his hands. "Oh, Hi, sorry, were you the one who saved me?" I asked him and he nodded, smiling kindly at me. It must be him, the husband of the woman inside. "Yes, I helped you, how are you, has someone dumped you or wants to torture you?" "Ah, yes... I was being chased by bad people there," I reasoned. "Where?" he asked in surprise. Maybe I'm not good at lying so he doesn't believe the reasons I give or my face looks unconvincing.

“I never did.” “But, I do.” He paused for two seconds to see if Luciana had something to say but she didn't interrupt, then he continued. “A lot, mum. Your opinion isn't important in my marriage. She is my wife so whatever issues you're having with Kathleen it's for you to deal with, it's none of my flaming business. I'm sorry, but Henrietta is my ex wife and Charlene is my wife!” She was stunned by his outburst, he leaped up abruptly. “What the hell are you saying, Richard? This is about Miguel.”

The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the wall and the distant, muffled sound of Grace singing a lullaby to the son she had stolen from my husband. My heart felt like it had been put through a meat grinder. The man who had saved my life, the man who had whispered that he loved me while the car was flipping through the air, didn't even know I existed. He was awake, and he was healthy, and he was moving on without me. I looked down at my hands. They were covered in dirt and the sticky residue from the pancakes Grace had thrown at me. I looked at my leg, the white plaster of the cast now stained and ugly.

“Chester McHale… He told me to come find you. He said you’d keep me safe.” My head spins. Now that’s a name I never thought I’d hear again. “Chet?” I mumble in disbelief. “Who the hell are you?” “It’s raining in the Sahara,” she rasps before she goes limp, unconscious. The air whooshes out of my lungs. It’s a code. I owe Chet McHale my life, and it seems he’s finally calling in that favor. It looks like my past really has caught up to me, just not in the way I expected.

"Your husband saved me in Mexico when I got myself into a bit of a scrape with one of the cartels." "Was it Frontera?" He nods. "Yes, that would be the one." "Is your church in Mexico?" He scratches his chin. "Yes, but I travel back and forth across the border several times a week." "You know about my husband's activities?" "Yes." He smiles gently. "I know." Here goes nothing. "I was raped by a very bad man. My husband put a bullet through that man's head before I could kill him myself." He doesn't blink. "That sounds like Xavier."