Sarah Needlemouse Novels & Stories

"You’ve been at that for three hours, Sarah. Usually, you complain after ten minutes that the pedal makes your ankles ache." "I’ve found my calling," Sarah replied, a small, secretive smile touching her lips. "I’m a woman of the arts now. A creator of connections." What Sarah didn't realize was that every wolf in the room could smell her intent. To a human, she was just a girl spinning yarn. To the residents of the Black Ridge, she smelled of desperate ambition, cheap rosewater, and the metallic tang of a secret. "She’s up to something," Fenris whispered, leanings toward Elara.

Nate Sarah stood up and waded across the water, her perfect little body calling to be touched. I knew she wanted me. She just needed a reason. I sat straight back, and spread my legs, giving Sarah room to sit in front of me. She turned slowly, letting my eyes take her in. Sarah lowered herself between my legs, resting her hands on my thighs. When she was settled, I reached up and moved her hair away from her neck. I started off soft, rubbing my hand up and down her neck, and then the back of her head and her scalp.

On the ID is a twenty-one years old Penelope Macklemore with curly red hair. Sarah had drowsily walked into my room assuming it was hers. Who could believe sixteen years old Sarah went clubbing with a fake ID. Penelope Macklemore's ID added a stamp to the fact that Sarah went clubbing back in Britain too. And I'm certain she'd been doing it for a year or so. Sarah is untamed, a wild girl in disguise. I'm wondering if I can wake her up, or go call one of her siblings to come get her out of my room. But a part of me instructs me not to.