Romans & histoires Spicy Chapters Fourth Wing

Chapter 2 Autumn’s POV “What the hell do you mean by that?” I shot back right after his words landed, my voice shaking but pushing through anyway. My wrists still burned from the zip ties they’d cut off only minutes ago, and my legs wobbled in the middle of this smoky room full of bikers who all looked ready to eat me alive or worse. Jax didn’t answer right away. He just jerked his head toward a hallway and two of his guys grabbed my arms again, marching me down a narrow corridor lined with closed doors.

Chapter 17- Life Turning From Bad To Worse LENA She spat the words, then turned and stormed off, her footsteps echoing down the hall. As soon as her footsteps faded and I was sure she had left, I broke down. Tears streamed down my face as I sank to the floor, my shoulders shaking.

I, meanwhile, realized with a lurch of shame and horror… I didn’t even know the other man’s name. And right now, it didn’t matter. Not when four walking gods of sin and leather were pressed around me, their heat searing through my clothes, their gazes burning me alive. My body was burning. Heat licked through my veins, too sharp, too fast. Shit. Think, Evelynn. Think. There has to be a way out. But every time I tried to tug my hand free, every time I shifted my hips away from the broad palm at my waist, sparks lit up under my skin, traveling straight down to where I already throbbed. My wolf pressed harder against me, furious at my resistance.

“WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THE LODGE.” I didn’t open them. Not until I was home. Showered. Alone. Back in the armor of city lights and sharp suits. Then I did what I always do. I poured a glass of red. Opened my laptop. And braced for the mess. But I wasn’t prepared for this. Title: “Locked In: A True Story of Lust in the Storm” By: Jax Hart I blinked. Then clicked. The bastard had published a preview. A whole fucking chapter. On his newsletter. To over two million subscribers.

Spitfire, on the other hand, looked like royalty. She sat perched on the edge of a lounge chair, wearing a floral collar around her neck, with white and yellow fabric flowers that Amaya insisted made her “look festive, not annoyed.” Spitfire looked deeply annoyed. But regal. Regal and displeased. Which, to be fair, was her default setting. I stood under the awning, half-watching the chaos unfold and half-trying not to cry into my plastic margarita cup. This was my family. Not the flawless sitcom kind. The real kind. Loud. Messy. Overprotective. Mine.

I want to apologize to all of my readers... As of late I have been messing up my chapters big time. I have gotten engaged recently and I have also sprung a rather sudden wedding on everyone. Needless to say, I have been up to my ears in planning and organizing. (Who knew a wedding was so much work!) All of that combined with a rather strict loadshedding schedule (I live in South Africa and have frequent power cuts) I have been neglectful. I want to ask you to please forgive me for my sins as a writer.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 4 "𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑀𝑟 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑒....𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼'𝑚 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ~~ 𝑆𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑎 𝑅𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑣

, he said out loud. Rinzen whined already feeling that tug; *Ugh… here we go again* xXxXx (End of Chapter 4)

The inner part of my body screamed at me. “You are a fraud, a betrayer, just like your mother. Of course, an apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. At last, you showed your true color. You are the worst.” The voice was getting louder, and I couldn’t bear to listen to that. I tried to avoid the words that were buzzing in my head, but it was an impossible task. When the food arrived, someone positioned ahead the plate of sushi of me, and that was the last clue. The raw fish and its smell stirred my entire body, my organ wobbled, and I covered my mouth with my hand.

She pinched her nose and said, “So that’s where this rotten stench is coming from, you little sc*m? You don’t seriously think your worthless father can protect you? Fabian snickered, sliding his hand straight up Tiffany’s skirt. He gave it a grab, then pressed his fingers to his nose for a deep inhale. “Consider this house cleaning. Today we’ll dispose of these two pieces of trash!” With a wave of his hand, I was pinned to the ground once more. “Tiffany Jefferson, you’ll regret this!” “Regret? I think you’re the one who’ll regret it!” She stepped on my injured palm before grabbing a bottle of liquor and pouring it over the wound. The moment it touched my skin, it felt like it was being torn