Stolen Bond Novels & Stories

"Stolen, renamed, raised to perform loyalty. But not Laurent. Not blood. Not mine." Catherine flinched. The words landed where I intended. We had never spoken it aloud, not in twenty-two years. The secret that bound us, that defined every decision, every preference, every cold glance at the dinner table when Clara demanded attention and Celine sat quiet, waiting. "Don't," Catherine whispered. "Don't say it." "Why not?" I moved to the desk, unlocked the hidden drawer, pulled the leather ledger. "Because you forgot? Because you look at her now and you see the child you raised instead of the child you stole?"

In the end, I told myself it was wrong to be petty toward a grieving widow, so I was the one who gave in and apologized. Later, when Ryan wanted to put his ring back on, he couldn't find it anywhere. Luckily, I still had the original design sketches. Since my own ring was getting worn out, I decided to order a brand-new set, identical to the first. But before the rings even arrived, our bond had already shattered. I instinctively rubbed the faint pale mark where my ring used to sit. My old band was still sitting on that table back at the Pack House. "I don't want them. Even if they're brand new and identical, our bond is fractured. There's no going back."

The officer closed his notebook, his expression turning stern. "Wayne Whitmore, you're suspected of identity theft, assault, and multiple other criminal offenses. You'll need to come with us for questioning." Standing off to the side, Travis finally understood what had happened. He shot to his feet and pointed at Kelsey in disbelief. "So when you told me your cousin was paying for our honeymoon, you meant you stole the money from your own family?" Panic flashed across Kelsey's face. She grabbed his arm. "Honey, let me explain..."

“I love this place and, most importantly, your leader. He's a sweet guy, y'know?” They both laughed. “Who?” “That one? That lady?” I heard the snicker in her voice. “I don't care about that lady. She can go fuck herself if she wants. And don't pretend you don't know that bonds can really be stolen.” “Stolen?” her friend whispered, but I heard it clearly, even with my eyes closed and while standing some distance away.

I think stolen moments were better than a normal relationship. “Finally, I can eat the manager’s money. You rarely pay for our lunch, anyway.” I laughed at her. “Who told you this is his money? I am paying for you because I need some information.” “I should have known. So this is a bribe?” “Do not take it that way. I wanted to ask about Alfredo, I know she hates my relationship with you but to poison me there has to be something behind that.” “So Mr. Manager didn’t tell you?”

The Lycan and werewolf mating bond is like a drug, the most addictive drug possible, all-consuming that no amount of rehabilitation can truly free you from it. Like any enslaving drug, it takes away what you truly feel and think and replaces those with illusions, compulsions and an endless unwarranted longing for another. You are a slave to it and it lures you in with passion and lust. You Suddenly love, and lust, are totally connected with someone that before the bond existed was nothing to you, possibly even an enemy, or not the gender you prefer. It takes away choice, independence and most importantly individuality. It also rides in tandem, is complicit with the rank system of Lycans an

I'd think that he'll just piss me off. When our class ended, I immediately left the room. I'm the one who steps out of the room first since I'm sitting next to the front door. But to my surprise, someone grabs my arm and when I turn around, I just wanna shriek in annoyance when I see Charles. "What?!" I hissed. I just told myself that I won't talk to him but what is the meaning of this? I'm betraying myself. "Hey calm down, you owe me something." He said, straightly. Wait, did I just hear the word ' owe '?

The bond had felt strange all day dull, muted, like a radio station playing through static. I hadn’t been able to feel her properly since last night. Now I knew why. I closed my eyes, reaching through the bond. Nothing. A faint pulse, like the echo of her heartbeat but far, far away. She wasn’t just gone from the house. She was blocking me. Which meant she didn’t want to be found. I stopped pacing, rage boiling beneath the surface. “What happened while I was gone?” I asked Marco, my voice low. Dangerous. He hesitated.

But just as fast, the cold slams back into his voice. "But I love Roxy," he says, pulling away, and the cold rushes in to fill the space between us. "I made a promise I do not intend to break." He swallows hard. "We will have to reject the mate bond." His words slice me open. I stagger back a step. "What? No," I whisper. My vision blurs with hot tears, but I force myself to look at him, to plead one last time. "Why will you not believe me?" I plead. "I was the girl you met that night by the river. I am your mate!"

"She was his mistress for eighteen months, helped him launder money through various charity foundations. Then she got greedy, skimmed half a million from one of his accounts, and disappeared." "And Kozlov doesn't forgive theft," Luca said grimly. "No," Matteo agreed. "He's been looking for her ever since. That's why she's been so careful about maintaining her false identity, why she moves in circles where Kozlov doesn't typically operate. She's been hiding in plain sight among wealthy socialites who would never associate with arms dealers." Luca processed this new information, its implications spreading like poison through his understanding of the situation. "So when I kidnapped Sienna..."