Scarlet Books Novels & Stories

he said. Scarlett looked at Viggo cynically and moved her lips, "Since when?" "Shut up and go along with it," Viggo whispered. "Is that so? Well, it's a small world... Oh, by the way," Karina said, then turned around and took something out of her bag. Karina turned back and handed Scarlett a novel written by Scarlett titled "The Underworld of Werewolves," which had just been written by Scarlett. "Can I ask for your autograph? I've been looking forward to this moment, so I always carry your novel with me wherever I go," Karina requested.

Laylin softly breathed out a sigh at his flaring temper. She closed her eyes in silent, her heart drumming in her chest. “Scarlet was the daughter of a Rakhbar Princess and Sansy so it made her the perfect medium: the blood of both, Red Witch and White Wolf. You said the Old Mistress sees the future, did she see it?”

SCAR'S POV. Red. Then it's black. Who am I? Who am I? What am I? Kill. Kill her. No....stop it stop talking to me. Moonlight? Where are you? It's like loosing control. The darkness slowly evolving. No... stop. Stop it. Who are you Scarlet...? Control. Everything. Control. Scarlet is Scarlet. (Authors mid-note: it's kinda confusing I know. Bit that's the whole deal. To be confused ;) )

Scarlett confidently replied, "Nope, they're fascinating. You'll know if you read them." "I'm not interested." Wayne scoffed. Scarlett pouted, "You just don't appreciate them " "There are many books here, rare editions that I treasure. You're the one who doesn't appreciate them." Wayne was not willing to back down. Neither was Scarlett She'd rather sleep than read those books. She curled up on the sofa and closed her eyes. Wayne, "..." Hadn't she already slept? How could she sleep again? Wayne asked, "Are you a pig?"

Michael’s presence is becoming a distant memory, and I’m growing into a woman I can be proud of. --- As I read Scarlet’s entries, I’m struck by how similar our journeys are. We’ve both faced painful relationships and made mistakes, but we’ve also shown incredible resilience and growth. Scarlet’s transformation is inspiring. She’s evolved from a victim to a woman reclaiming her power, and I find myself admiring her. It’s as if we share an unspoken bond, a mutual understanding of pain and recovery. I’m proud of her—proud of how far she’s come and the strength she’s found within herself. In many ways, her journey mirrors my own, and that realization brings me a sense of solidarity and hope.

Her drama with them never seemed to end. As Scarlet scanned the room, she noticed something, on the far end. It was a book she had never seen before, sitting on the end table, beside the other reading chair. It had unusual look to it, and it dew her in. It looked like one of her mom’s rare books, but it was smaller. Almost like…a journal.

‘Master Mikhail’ could go to the unending inferno of hell for all I cared, but I could not tell her that. For the next twenty minutes, she worked some magic on my back, and I wondered if she would succeed in covering the hideous scars. The scars that were an ever present reminder of the hell I had been going through while my mother withered away without me. Tears stung my eyes. I knew none of this was my fault, I knew it wasn't my fault that she had died. I just couldn't help the guilt I felt. Maybe if I had fought harder. If I had tried harder to escape, if I hadn't slipped up. If I hadn't gone on that night shift.

Even when I knew there was little I could do to change the situation. Scarlet wasn’t Arabelle. Once reborn, she took on a new life and identity, her memories erased completely. I was aware of how much effort I needed to get her to fall for me, and I was mistaken that my genuineness would touch her deep inside. Yet, I was so wrong.

Lucian’s POV Scarlett had torn us apart in ways I couldn’t have imagined. She had done the unthinkable—she poisoned the water supply of Redcape, using the same toxic mix she had been accused of using on us. Half the pack lay dead because of her, and all our efforts to clear her name were suddenly, tragically, for nothing. As I looked at her, bound and helpless before us, I felt a twisting in my chest—a mix of anger and sorrow so deep I could hardly breathe. How could she have done something so reckless, so cruel?