Rachel Cusk Trilogy Novels & Stories

Every so often the wind howled and the whole cabin creaked. After the second drink, the tension changed. Rachel had shed her sweater. She wore a tight thermal shirt that showed off full tits and a narrow waist. She caught me looking and didn’t call me on it. Instead she stretched her legs out toward the fire, socks off, toes wiggling. “This is ridiculous,” she said with a half-smile. “Two strangers trapped in a cabin like some bad romance novel.” “Could be worse,” I replied. “You could snore.”

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.

The children are still so young, yet Rachel is already thinking about forcing someone them to like one another. Sigrid had always admired Rachel's imagination. Based on what she said, Rachel didn't know much about what happened in the six months where Sigrid lost her memories. However, she managed to guess them. In this regard, Sigrid thought that she might be a fortune teller. There was a possibility that her words could turn out to be true. However, whether this speculation was true or not depended on the progress for the next ten or twenty years. Life was full of tricks! After the grilled fish was served, Rachel began to talk about her current situation. Recently, she had been continuousl

No sign of her. I am Rachel Thornhill, daughter of Thomas Thornhill, who is the beta of the Winter Moon pack. I have long chestnut brown hair, almost to my waist. My eyes are a forest green and if you look closely you can see gold speckles in them. My skin is an olive tone, and I have about a dozen light freckles sprinkled over my face. My lips are full and a dull shade of pink. I am one of the shorter girls of my pack, measuring a whopping 5'3" and weighing 125 lbs. "She should have parished with the bitch that manipulated you! She is the byproduct of having a child with someone who is not your mate!" sneered my stepmother.

I wandered through the corridors, tracing my fingers along the familiar edges, as fragments of my childhood stories wove their way into my consciousness. In the depths of this familial refuge, I discovered the solace I had been seeking. Willowvale, my sanctuary, held the key to understanding my past and unlocking the mysteries of my future. Here, surrounded by the whispers of the woods and the echoes of my ancestors, I would search for answers, determined to forge a path that defied the dark fate threatening to consume me. [Rachel's POV]

Or had there been a struggle? Rachel stepped past him, carefully avoiding a collection of discarded shoes and a stack of books with titles like The Tao of Meow and The Heart of Yoga. She crossed to the window and touched the collage of wilting plants on the sill. Shadows bruised her face, deepening her high cheekbones, making her look small and haunted. Not liking the effect, he switched on the light in the breakfast nook. He watched her gaze roam over the room, her eyes narrowed and troubled. It amazed him that the two women were related. They’d lived through the same experiences, suffered the same losses and fears, yet were black and white, as opposite as two people could be. Rachel was th

Clouds covered most of the sky, leaving only thin streams of sunlight slipping through the forest. The pack house felt quieter than usual. Not peaceful. Uneasy. Whispers moved between wolves gathered near tables while scouts prepared supplies by the doors. Even the pups seemed to sense something strange lingering in the air. I found Rachel outside near the training grounds. She sat alone on the fence, absentmindedly twisting a small flower stem between her fingers. As I approached, she looked up. “You look terrible.” I dropped beside her. “Good morning to you too.” Rachel smiled slightly.

Compared to how Andrew behaved with me, he and Ian were the ones who truly seemed like a couple in love. Eventually, I transferred a final sum to James and said, "You should leave to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Stay away from here for the time being." James responded right away. "Will do." I got in touch with Marissa and sent her the photos, asking her to draw these scenes in her graphic novel. I also asked her to publish it as soon as possible. "But no one will want to read the work of an obscure artist like me," Marissa replied. Just then, I got a call from Charlotte. Keeping her voice down, she said, "I did what you asked me to do. Is there anything else?"