Serenade Me Novels & Stories

I wanted to see her grow with the life I put in there, but I also understood if she wasn’t so quick to jump on the baby train with me. The music started, a piece I didn’t recognize, and I turned around, my gaze firmly on the place where Wren would appear. I sucked in a breath when I saw her. She looked like an angel coming toward me, her cream gown making her tits and waist look fucking amazing. Baron was walking her down the aisle, her hand resting on top of his forearm as they made the slow walk toward me. Everything seemed to disappear. I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, other than Wren and the sound of my heart thumping irregularly against my ribs. She was a vision. Baron gave her t

Then Kaelen leaned closer, his silver eyes darkening. Serena was entranced, her body betraying her, turning her into something desperate. She sat up, forcing the voices in her head away. Her hands traced along Kaelen’s fair-toned skin, slow and deliberate, before she leaned closer. Her tongue slipped out, tasting him, licking his soft skin in a slow, sensual drag.

Oh well, I thought, and picked the phone back up. I found some old soul music, stuff I wouldn’t play around anyone else, Bill Withers, Percy Sledge, were all singers my granddad had loved. It was old stuff, but I liked to chill out to it at night. I put my headphones on and closed my eyes. Otis was directing me on what happened when a man loved a woman when a loud ping startled me out of my light sleep. Practice, as always, had been hard and after a long day, I was worn out. That didn’t stop a slow smile from creeping over my face as I looked at the name on the screen. It only grew when I saw her reply.

“You can call me Serene.” He said my name slowly, almost tasting it. “Serene.” It sounded too intimate coming from him, far softer than I expected. None of my exes had ever made my name sound that personal. “So, Serene, what brings you here today?” I shifted again, embarrassed by how small my voice sounded. “My roommate booked this appointment. She thinks I need help with... something at work.” “What kind of something?” His gaze never left mine, and it made it hard to think clearly.

“Me too.” Serena falls silent, and soon enough, she is sound asleep in my arms. Smiling, I close my eyes, allowing sleep to take over me again. There shouldn’t be any more interruptions. I didn’t expect her to show up tonight. I had got it into my head that she was over me and done with me, but I am happy I was wrong, and she came to me to make amends.

Inside the inner lining, I felt a neatly folded piece of paper. I unfolded it to see that it was a child’s crayon drawing of a strong man holding hands with a long-haired woman and a little boy. Next to them, written in words, read, “Papa, Mamma, and I, on top of the Empire State Building.” In one corner of the drawing, a figure had been scribbled over in thick black crayon. Holding it up to the light, I could faintly make out what had been covered. It was a woman in a red dress, lying in a pool of blood, and that woman was me. So it seemed the five-year-old illegitimate son, Antonio, had already been taught how to erase me from the picture.

Something unreadable crossed his face. For a second, Serena thought he might refuse. Instead he said quietly, "Only if you want to." The room grew still. Serena looked at the piano again.Then back at Lia. And finally she nodded. "One song." Lia cheered. Damon looked far too pleased with himself. Serena walked toward the piano slowly. The closer she got, the quieter the room became. She sat down. Placed her fingers on the keys. And took a breath. The first note echoed softly through the room. Then another. And another. The melody was simple. Gentle. The kind that settled into silence instead of breaking it. For a while nobody spoke. Nobody moved. The music filled the room. Warm and soft. And

The Moon Pack Square blazed like a second sun. Floodlights bathed the open plaza in merciless white, washing every shadow away, while the relentless clicking of cameras rose and fell like a mechanical tide. Screens taller than ancient oaks flanked the stage, each one looping the same message in elegant silver script: THE SERENA COLLECTION — A NEW ERA. Serena stood at the center of it all. Velvet draped the stage beneath her feet, crimson and indulgent, as if the entire pack had laid its heart out for her to walk upon. She lifted her chin, spine straight, shoulders back—every inch the woman who believed destiny had finally bowed to her will.