Spike Spiegel Cigarette

The moment I was born, I took her life. They called me a murderer. Marcus used to burn me with cigarette butts, and Dad would say it was my fate. “You’re a curse. If you had any conscience, you’d have gone to join Mom a long time ago to repay what you owe.” When Marcus was diagnosed with kidney failure, that same cold, distant father knelt in front of me. “Please… save him…” I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder. “Dad, I’ll do the surgery. But can you promise me one thing?” Dad performed the surgery himself. It was a success. He saved the son he loved most and took the life of the daughter he hated. But after I died, Dad turned himself in to the police, and Marcus lost his mind.

“Get off me! Brian would have your head in a spike if you touch me!" Bella screamed as the big bad wolf Henry had her pinned on the grassy floor deep inside the woods trying to have his way with her… Bella, a beautiful, young maiden werewolf, is betrothed to the future alpha, Brian who happens to be her boyfriend. Her life seemed simple and perfect until a powerful, wayward werewolf in her pack Henry started fantasizing about her and eventually would make a move on her, even going as far as trying to force himself on her. Brian would show up but would he be strong enough to defeat Henry? Regardless, that encounter who change everything in their lives forever as one seeking revenge would make a deal with a demon creature who harbors a deep hatred for the werewolf kind and this would lead to the massacre of an entire pack. What happens when the demon responsible for the death of everyone she loves happens to be Bella's fated mate? That's not even the worst part yet. Wait till you see what he had in-store for her.

Damon curled a hand into her hair and pulled back, savouring the startled yelp she let out and the exposed line of her throat. He took the opportunity to bite down on her pulse, feeling her heart rate spike beneath his lips before licking a stripe over it to soothe the sting. "Beg me to make you come, Mia." She scoffed. "In your dreams, maybe." *** Mia Grace's life would have been picture perfect if not for her new boss, Damon Rossi. Hes demanding, insensitive but also completely irresistible. After Damon Rossi returns from his trip to Spain, he fills the position as the new CEO, replacing his father. Mia expected him to be sweet and kind like her, also a lot older but he's completely opposite. Almost instantly, she hates the man yet lusts after him all together. As they continue working together, everything around them is put to test, from their will to remain professional to their feelings, desires, only to reach a point where nothing ever will be the same again. ***

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

The day Jack Prescott's family went "bankrupt," he dumped me on the spot. "My mom's house is getting auctioned. I don't want you dragged into this." I actually bought it. Went against my family and stuck by him, slinging street food just to scrape by. "Don't stress. I'll help you buy it back." Three years of nonstop work—burn scars up and down my arms—and I finally scraped together a small fortune. The day we were supposed to sign the papers, I caught him on the phone. "Jack, you coming back?" some guy asked. Jack flicked his cigarette, all smug. "What's the rush? I'm still milking this sad little simp. She's totally whipped. It just keeps getting funnier." All that time, all that love? Just a joke to him.

Nine years into my "non-cohabiting partnership" with Simon, his father passed away. The first condition in his will was simple: Simon and Ella had to conceive a child. On the day the child turned one month old, Simon would inherit his father's fortune. Simon told me this himself—the night I walked in on them tangled in our bed. Afterward, as he took a slow drag from his cigarette, he murmured, "Lily, just wait a little longer. Once I get the inheritance, I'll marry you." But he went back on his word. From then on, every time Simon planned to meet Ella at our house, he would hang a string of bells on the door. Since his father's passing, those bells had chimed ninety-nine times. After the ninety-ninth, the news arrived—Ella was pregnant, and their engagement party was set. My daughter saw the invitation, hesitated, then softly asked, "Mom, is Daddy's name on this?" I forced a smile and gently smoothed her messy hair into a neat ponytail. "Daddy is marrying the one he loves," I said. "And I'm taking you home." Simon never understood—I never cared about that marriage certificate.

Sam and I have been married for ten years. He always said he would give me the wedding of my dreams. However, three days before the ceremony, my eyes, which had been blind for the past six months after saving Sam’s life, miraculously regained vision. The first thing I saw when I opened them was Sam tangled in bed with his pretty secretary, Alisa. The bed was still shaking while Alisa typed on her phone. She showed it to him, smirking. [Sam, we're out of condoms. Why not ask your blind wife to grab one for us?] Sam’s veins bulged at his temple. His eyes darted toward me in panic. Alisa, however, scoffed and typed again. [What are you so scared of? Your wife’s blind. What’s she gonna see?] Sam sighed in resignation. “Hazel, can you pass me the box of cigarettes from the nightstand?” That cigarette box he mentioned was clearly labeled: Durex Ultra-Thin—Bare Feel. My heart shattered, and I booked a flight to Rockbridge before the wedding. When Sam came running after me, hysterical, I said coldly to him, “Sam. I can see.”

Three days before the wedding, the church called to inform me that my fiancé had changed the date. When I went to ask him why, I walked in on him throwing a bachelor party with his friends. "Samuel, this was the day Claire personally chose. Why would you suddenly change it?" someone asked. Samuel Gordon stubbed out his cigarette, looking utterly nonchalant. "Because that day happens to be Janet's birthday," he said. "I need to celebrate it with her." The room fell silent in shock. "Aren't you afraid Claire will find out and kill you? Have you forgotten what she did before?" At the mention of my name, Samuel gave an icy snort. "That was all in the past. Claire loves me to death now. She even took three bullets for me once, so how could she ever bring herself to hurt me?" I stood at the doorway, watching the snow fall behind me, and let out a long sigh. Five days later, he stood in an empty church, frantically calling my phone. "Did you forget? It's our wedding day!" "I didn't forget," I said. In another church, wearing a wedding gown, I was saying "I do" to another man.

On the wet sand beside the seashore, the strong, tall man was laying with a cigarette in his hand. His bike parked a few feet away from him. The environment there was serene and noiseless as no one was allowed then on the beach that he owned. It was not a big deal for a billionaire like him. He had a lot more than that. Wealth, power, the respect he had all of them but lacked the most important thing that couldn't be bought with money. He lacked inner peace. He inhaled the vinous smoke as the corner of his lips twitched in a sad smile. His eyes deceived him being moist and a lone tear slipped down his face on the sand. The sand sucked the water as soon as it fell on it, and he wondered if his pain disappeared in thin air like that. He breathed out a puff of smoke through his nose and mouth. Looking up at the sky with the sad smile plastered on his face he spoke up, "Why so hatred for me, ya Rab?" Miles away from him the girl with a cuddling baby in her arms uttered looking up at the sky, "I express my deep gratitude to You for sending this angel to me, Ya Rab."

La neuvième année de notre relation, le père de Cédric est mort. La première clause de son testament ordonnait à Cédric de concevoir un enfant avec Mireille. Et le jour où cet enfant fêterait son premier mois, Cédric hériterait. Comment je l'ai su ? C'était Cédric lui-même qui me l'avait avoué, alors que je les surprenais, enlacés dans notre lit ! Ce soir-là, une cigarette entre les doigts, la voix encore rauque après l'amour, il m'avait murmuré : « Aude… attends un peu. Dès que l'héritage sera à moi, je t'épouserai. » Depuis, chaque fois que Cédric recevait Mireille chez nous, il accrochait une guirlande de clochettes à la porte. Depuis la mort de son père, ces clochettes ont tinté quatre-vingt-dix-neuf fois.