Scorned Woman Novels & Stories

LIKE A WOMAN SCORNED . "Oh shit, did we walk in on a lover's quarrel?"

Evelyn Brooks sat at a secluded booth dressed in all black—a fitted blazer, gloves, and a pair of dark-tinted sunglasses she didn’t remove even indoors. To anyone watching, she looked like a woman in mourning. In reality, she was a woman plotting. Across from her sat a man known only in whispers. Scorpion. He was lean, sharp-eyed, and carried the type of tension that came from living on the wrong side of the law for too long. His fingers drummed quietly on the table as he scanned the bar repeatedly, never looking relaxed, always alert. He finally spoke. “You’re playing a dangerous game, madam. The woman you’re asking about… she is not small. She’s a big target.”

Milady, I know you don't know me and probably will never know me or hear from me after this, but there is something you need to know. My name is Scarlet and I am a bar wench down by the taverns. Your Austin talks about you often, and I know many things about you. The reason I do is because he has slept with me time and again while he was looking for you and assumed you never wanted to see him again. He has no intention of telling you any of this for fear that you will never trust him again. I hope you get all that you deserve, milady. Scarlet

, I’m almost groaning. "Don't get me wrong,” she says slowly, her gelatine-like eyes burned with sincerity as she gazed at me. “There is a beauty in your rebellious spirit and all. Your defiance of women's place in our New Eden. And I admire that. But let's be real, Amber. It's a beauty that women in our position can't afford. Your defiance ain't going to get you anywhere, sweetheart. It’s just a slow, painful sucide," she said

This scandal would not reduce me to whispers and pitying looks. "Let them talk," I said, almost in challenge to the absent crowd of gossips. "Let them see what becomes of a woman scorned." I wiped the last tear from my eye, my gaze catching the reflection in the mirror. There stood a woman who would not cower before deceit and treachery. My, with the fire of tenacity alight in my eyes, began to undress. The lace gown fell to the floor, a discarded emblem of naivety.

Do not let strange things happen, because we were deliberately separated, because he said so, thought this ambitious woman. The Scorpio woman has got her mobile phone. She as soon as possible, widened her eyes when she looked at the screen, where a number was already displayed on it. “Damn! I know this damn number. Why is he still bothering and not just dying?” Abby grumbled under her breath.

“For your scars? Phantom pain streaked up my back as I nodded. The woman clapped her hands, which were speckled with golden rings, and sashayed over to a nearby shelf. As she walked away, I was able to admire the emerald gown woven over her body, revealing hints of her breasts and full hips. She returned with a small jar full of what appeared to be some kind of cream. “Turn around, miss. This stuff will conceal your scars for a few hours. All the madam’s use it—well, those of us with blemishes to hide.” She winked, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. “Sirona herself created it. You could run through every client and still have maximum coverage. It’s truly a blessing.” Sirona was the God

She presses her palms to the snow and lowers her head until her nose brushes the ice. “She walks,” she breathes. A voice like gravel breaking in the fire. “She burns. She bears the mark.” My chest tightens. I look down—at the place where the spiral lives under fabric and scar. Kael doesn’t blink. His stance sharpens. “I think you’ve caught the wrong wolves,” he says, voice low. The woman lifts her face. Smiles. “No,” she murmurs. “We caught the right flame.” The scarred woman rises from her knees like smoke curling up through bone. Her bones creak faintly—too many shifts without full return. Too much time living outside the Warden code.

She smashed a glass and then held the shard up to her throat, threatening to slice her own neck wide open. The man chuckled and snapped his whip. We all watched the woman, wondering if she would do it. Would she take her own life, right here? But her hands shook, and eventually, she put down the shard of glass. The man snapped the whip again and she walked to him, her head hung low. Then it was my turn. The bidding started high—higher than the sold price of any of the other women. I glared out at the men as they tossed numbers back and forth.

The woman before them was tall, clad in leather with messy short hair. She had large, innocent-looking eyes, but the wicked curve of her lips was anything but innocent. An angry red scar ran from her lower left eye to her jawbone — one could only imagine how painful that had been. Liz leaned further into Ashton’s side as if being this close to him would shield her from the world’s troubles. “Aren’t you both the sweetest couple I’ve ever seen?” The woman must be taunting them; her smile never wavered as she circled, like a predator keeping a close eye on her prey lest they escape.