Romans & histoires Rachel Cusk Trilogy

It was probably because we were all trying to overcome the trauma we’d endured after discovering that my mother’s lifelong friend and the chief of police was, in fact, a sadistic sex pervert who was involved in human trafficking as well as providing pornographic and violent movies to the dark web. Cindy spent most of her time sleeping and acclimating to her new form of existence while Kenton and I spent a great deal of the time we had together making love in almost every location imaginable in the old estate house. With my mother off roaming the mountain in her wolf form and the house to ourselves, we experienced a newfound sense of freedom and our appetites for each other were insatiable.

Her crimson coat had been discarded, revealing a long black gown threaded with blood-colored runes. A brazier burned at her feet, its flame an unnatural shade of blue. From her pocket, she pulled out a tiny glass vial. Within it, a single strand of hair floated—Rachel’s hair. “By blood, scent, and soul,” she whispered, “bring her to me.” The blue flame leapt higher. --- **Back in the Penthouse** Rachel jolted as a sudden chill shot through her spine. The hairs on her neck stood on end, and a prickling sensation crawled over her skin like static.

I sighed and left the room. As I returned to campus, Rachel was already in our room. She was sitting on the ledge of her window, smoking a cigarette as she often did and blowing the smoke outside. She still made the room smell disgustingly like cigarette smoke though. “That’s so bad for you,” I said, grabbing a can of Lysol and spraying the room. She shrugged. “We all die eventually anyways,” she muttered. “Besides, I’m a bear, remember? We don’t have long lifespans like wolves do.”

he spoke softly with a wink. Why is everyone so insistent on me taking a break?! “I'm fine, Detective Riley.” Before he could protest, I reported to him about the disappearance of our witness, Mrs. Rosenthal, the picture she had with my mother, her extensive collection of occult books, and the one that had mysteriously fallen into our possession. I omitted the encounter with the spirit. If Liam, my own partner/lover didn't believe me, I knew for sure he wouldn't either.

She was beautiful, perfection in every sense of the word and her figure was fit and a raunchy teenage boy's definition of 'hot'. I guess I should just be glad Strukus isn't here. He will take out these guys' eyes in mere seconds for daring to look at his wife. Kayla was unbothered too by the stares but me? I tried not to breathe the scent of blood and humans too deeply. "Let's get you some outfits," Kayla said beside me. "Now that we are here, might as well do that."

When Cassandra heard that someone had invited Rachel out for dinner, her narrowed eyes instantly filled with suspicion. "Which friend? It's not Tyler, is it?" she asked. Rachel's hand froze slightly in the middle of grabbing her bag, but she didn't respond. She wasn't facing Cassandra. Instead she simply walked straight toward the door as if she hadn't heard anything. Fury surged across Cassandra's face. She stood abruptly and pointed a trembling finger at Rachel's back. "Rachel, stop right there!"

Grace Walking into the club on a Monday felt surreal. More so was coming straight from the office in a white shirt that stuck to my skin because of continuous nervous sweating and a black pencil skirt that probably had white patches on it. I'm not usually this unkempt but my nerves had gotten the best of me. Somehow, I just wanted to prove to Daniel and myself that I'm not a slut or into one-night stands. I was going to tell him to his face, that he should forget about the other night completely, so that we can move on with our lives. That is, if I find him. I had no idea who he was, other than the fact that his name is Daniel and he’s been eyeing me for a while and just might be a regular.

I scolded and he frowned at me before hesitantly lowering his gun. "Do you believe this bullshit?" Rafe skeptically asked Mateo and I worriedly looked over at Martha. "Her name is Martha, and she makes coffee, too. Also, cussing is really bad, tío Rafe." I heard Mila saying and I looked down at her in shock. "Sorry, princess," Rafe muttered under his breath. When did she get here? Poor thing. She must've heard everything we said. "Mila's right. Martha is great," I uncomfortably uttered and Mateo shook his head at me. I need her, she's the closest thing I have to finding out the truth.

I sprint through the paddock, uncaring about the shrill siren wail that comes on suddenly and pierces my skull, uncaring about the rumble of dogs barking. I make it to the lake in no time. My lungs burn. My feet sting. I gasp for air and turn left, rushing toward the cubby house of Kade's youth. I don't know why I come here. Maybe because it's the farthest point on the land I've been. It's the farthest I can get from Thirteen's hurtful words. Loud howls cut through the tranquil midday silence. They're closer now. Why would they be closer? I clench my side against sharp spasms in my ribs and jog up the cubby stairs. Then, they burst through the dense shrubbery.

Her smooth skin broke out in gooseflesh, and she took a deep breath as she prepared herself for her first mounting. Rachel shivered as she sat upon the rock, but she looked up at me, and there was true longing in her eyes. I wondered for the first time if she had perhaps seen me differently and desired me for a long time. As she put her hands behind her to support herself, she released her breasts which swung freely, and I found them to be most satisfying. Then she parted her legs, and I saw her womanhood, surrounded by dark hair, glistening in the moonlight. Such a vulgar show should disgust my morals, but I was inflamed by it. I could never be disgusted by Rachel, in any case.