The Wrong Valentine Novels & Stories

She informed filling my glass with orange juice. “With Victor.” I scoffed hearing his name and she nodded with a questioning look. “Sometimes I feel like, this Victor is his first wife.” She laughed at my statement and Valerie sipped her coffee. “Victor is Valentine’s right hand. He never goes out without him. Don’t be jealous of that lad, I can tell you that Valentine is straight. He isn’t interested in guys like Harman.” Valerie assures me like it was some serious issue earning a slap on head from Lola. I spit the juice ruining my dress and laughed hard.

In two years at most, I would be completely free of that disgusting pack. But some people were like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. Disgusting, sticky, and impossible to shake off. After I moved back to my birth pack's territory, Damien came to see me again after he was discharged from the healing den. His face was still wrapped in gauze, and one of his legs was in a cast. The moment he saw me, he actually started crying. "Selene. I… I know I was wrong. I finally understand now. You're the only one who truly loved me."

Their quenching anger would soon spread to an all out flame that would consume everything should anyone lead any further hands-on attempt at Valentine again. Valentine then pulled his hand from Martin’s hold, in a forceful sense after which he massaged it to ease the minute pain that might’ve surfaced in those few seconds. “You are naive, May.” Valentine began. “And your heart is in the right place. But you must be down right stupid” He added. There were all at a loss for words as to what could have warranted they be awarded a speech.

I instantly objected, perturbed that she'd even think of letting that traitor into my private solitude. “You're wrong, Valen,” she spat out, sending me a disgusted look like the sight of me repelled her. “Just like you were wrong about Mercedes.” Her dreary blues crystalized, and every word that came next was laced with enough bitterness and anger to make me flinch. “Just like you promised never to break my heart. Yes, Valen. You were wrong. Just like you ensured that I understand that I don't mean a damn thing to you.”

Her hips were practically perfect, fitting her tall slim figure. She adjusted her shirt properly, and cleared her throat a little trying not to stare at anyone. For hell sake, it was Valentine's day and Sam was being a jerk, how could he not even care when it was also her birthday. Valerie sighed when she looked at the glass of wine. Just one more sip from it, and that would be all. She decided to take just another glass and then leave if he still doesn't show up. Taking the last sip of her wine, Valerie poured a little more quantity inside the glass and dropped the bottle on the table.

he teased, laughing. Valentine smiled quietly from the floor, where she was flipping through some bridal magazines. Neat and efficient she was; her hair was tied back without undue fuss, and her cheeks were blessed with the unmistakable, dyed early-pregnancy hue of cravings. "Tell me about it my love. I swear, finding the right shade for flowers is going to be more difficult than anything I've ever done, Arnulfo." Arnulfo slumped forward, his elbows lying on his knees. "We could always elope you know," he teased, the glint in his dark eyes all too tempting. "Fly somewhere private, just us. No stress, no seating charts, no arguments over what dessert to serve."

I murmured, while I lifted a glass filled with vodka, as soon as the vodka found its way down my throat, my face turned squeezed, like someone who had tested aloe vera juice. I'm not getting any better! “Am I not deliberately punishing myself with this? What else can I do to lose the memory of this heartbreak?” I asked while gulping more vodka! My five years with Miguel were just a waste. He never loved me. He should have made this known to me earlier. Not promise to marry me only for him to shatter my heart on all other days but on my wedding day! “Am I supposed to let it chill?” Like a flash, the purple gown Linda was wearing on that day of my miserable and unrealistic wedding looked the s

I was shaking all over with anger, gripping my phone so tightly it felt like it might crack in my hand. The post was still gaining traction, and the comment section was filled with filth—vile, disgusting words that were hard to even read. "Girls these days really know how to play. Valentine’s Day with no protection, just chasing thrills." "She looks so innocent. Didn’t expect her to be this wild, roleplaying the whole ‘sister-brother’ thing."

I whirl around to glare at him, but he just leans casually against a nearby tombstone, smirking. “Something like that,” I mutter, turning back to the grave. “She and her little crew said I looked like crap, so I told her she didn’t exactly look impressive either.” There’s a loud, theatrical hoot behind me. “Well, well!” Valentine exclaims, clapping his hands. “North finally grows a spine! Shame it’s made of Styrofoam.” I snap my head around. “Excuse me?” “Come on,” he says, grinning. “That’s the best you could come up with? ‘You don’t look impressive’? She’s probably crying herself to sleep right now.”

"Dad, Mom, you’ve got it wrong. Amanda is now—" "Scott, shut up!" Elaine might not have understood everything, but she wasn’t blind. She shot Amanda a vicious glare, then turned to me. Her voice wavered, lacking conviction. "Katie, this must all be some kind of misunderstanding. Scott has always been soft-hearted. This woman must’ve tricked him. "And besides, you’re always so busy with work. All you ever do is stare at your reports. You don’t even have time to pour him a cup of coffee.