The Wilder Women Novels & Stories

“Daddy told us. That’s what being W.I.L.D. really is. We don’t stop loving, even when it’s scary. We don’t stop fighting, even when it hurts.” Kael leaned forward, looking at each of them with eyes that seemed too old for his years. “If we stay together, if we love each other, we can win. We will win.” Serenya smiled to herself knowing that Cheyenne had told her differently what it meant to be W.I.L.D. but she wasn’t about to discredit both Jax and the twins in front of everyone. It can mean different things to different people. Solana reminded her. The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it thrummed with the pulse of something greater, something ancient. Serenya felt it before anyone else, a

The comments section was a war zone. @SocialJusticeQueen: That blonde woman was CLEARLY the aggressor. The wife was just defending herself. Props to her for not backing down. @RealityCheckPod: This is what happens when mistresses think they can publicly humiliate wives. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. @BusinessInsider2024: Isn't that Damien Castellan's wife? And his secretary? This is going to be a PR nightmare for Castellan Enterprises. @GossipGirlNYC: THE WIFE DISLOCATED HER SHOULDER. I'm both terrified and impressed.

“You really spoiled your wife, Vercel. Look at her—she only appears when the banquet you prepared for her is about to end.” “She’s only been married for three years, yet she already doesn’t know her place. She’s even more arrogant than us now.” Most of the comments came from the women the men had brought along. Well—what was new? It was always women who dragged other women down. I didn’t bother looking at them. My gaze rested solely on Vercel, who was already looking at me. He wore only a white shirt, the top buttons undone, exposing his chest—exactly where Antonette’s hand rested.

Chapter 47 : Isabella Sinclair groaned and palmed her head as she opened her mobile and unblocked Jessica Williams. Her eyes rounded in shock seeing the super hot Mathew Hill with another woman. She had been busy visiting top designers for the super rich and shopping for her attire and accessories for the evening dinner with the Hills through the past few days which had left her exhausted. She was getting a body massage at a luxe spa when Jessica’s irritating phone calls started disturbing her.

“It remembers, Sean. There are all these images—beautiful, wild forests and ancient civilizations in their heyday.” Concentrating on it, I flip through the sensations it houses, feeling them flood through me. “My God, Sean. You have no idea how deeply she loves him. There aren’t words for it.” Something dark and tumultuous flitters over his countenance, then disappears. “I’ll bet I do. It’s the same way he loves her. Are they only Darby’s memories?” “No. There’s someone else here. A woman with long, black hair. She loved open spaces—fields and crops. Contests and games.”

It wasn’t every day I got to see the Savage himself at one of these races. I tilted my head skyward, spotting rows upon rows of werewolves lining the rooftops of the buildings–the onyx sky dappled with the brilliant glow of their eyes. It was a kaleidoscope of color as they peered around, leaving warped, mystical shapes in their wake. My attention snagged toward a woman standing a few people to our left, raising her candy-red blouse and flashed her chest toward the bikers. Her shrill voice carried over the crowd despite the noise as she shouted, “Savage! Hey Savage! Look here, baby!”

**The Wild Wolves** Aria meandered through the lush, vibrant forest, a world alive with an intricate tapestry of sights, sounds, and scents. Each step enveloped her in the rich aroma of damp earth and blooming wildflowers, the vibrant hues of greens and browns intertwining like an artist's brushstrokes across the landscape. Having spent the past few weeks in this enchanted new home amidst the towering, ancient trees and dappled sunlight, she had cultivated a deep affection for the tranquility and solace the wilderness offered—a cherished escape from the chaotic clamor of her former life.

Claudia, for instance, looked cold and distant, but this only made her seem extraordinarily elegant as if she were a bard. Martiny, on the other hand, was curvy and fair. Her appearance gave off the vibe of lightness as a cloud, like a goddess that had descended to Earth. Both Luna and Freya were absolute beauties as well. One was passionate, sexy, and bold, while the other was your gentle, typical girl next door. ‘This is amazing.’ “Boss, it’d be a shame to sacrifice such women.” “That’s right, boss! We couldn’t possibly get such beautiful women back in the sect, but so many Wasteland natives have come to us. This is simply paradise! Why wait when we can have them for ourselves now?”

"There are girls that are just whores for real men to fuck. Sluts who do p**n and star in movies and strip in clubs. They're not marriage material. They're gold-diggers. Trophy wives. Sluts who go wild in Cancun on Spring Break or in New Orleans on Mardi Gras. We need to mold these wild girls so they can be ready to show their tits for a few shells on a necklace. Ready them for their future of whoredom instead of motherhood." "You can't mean that," gasped Ms. Kwon. "Natalie, that's insane. That's not what women should be like. That's a step back. A giant step back." I smiled at her. "Have you ever gone wild, Ms. Kwon?" "No!" "I didn't think so. You're all so buttoned up. You're not a good gi

"Yeah, he's coming back in two days. And he’s bringing his wife. Supposedly a beautiful musician from England. What was her name again?" “Anna Witherspoon,” the man in the wide-brimmed hat said, his voice low. "Yes, Anna Witherspoon," the bold man echoed. "And why do we care?" Bisila asked, raising an eyebrow. "Well, because Andrew was the one we all thought could steal your heart, but now he's married. We’ve all tried, and you’re not interested in any of us!" the bold man grinned. "You’re all like fathers and brothers to me. Please, Travie, I’m years older than you!" she said, rolling her eyes.