Two Perfect Strangers Novels & Stories

I just knew she was the key to everything. I found myself excited for the first time in awhile. To celebrate, I wanted to fuck a stranger, someone who didn’t look like Tiffany or Julia. I found a nice red head sitting alone at the bar and I introduced myself. “I’m Travis.” I gave her a wide smile. She looked me up and down before softly grinning, “Beth.” She didn’t smell quite human, but I couldn’t place the scent, however it didn’t matter, it was only for one night. She wasn’t thinking about what she was either so I couldn’t figure it out from reading her mind.

"We do this wrong, we don't walk out." Lena's gaze met his. "Then we don't make mistakes." The clock ticked away. Four hours, three, two. Then it was time. They stepped into the night, heading toward Pier 17. The docks stretched out before them—rows of piled-up shipping containers, faint security lights throwing long shadows. Kane's men were everywhere. Armed, alert. Evelyn exhaled. "Looks like a small army." Lena crouched behind a crate. "Then we take them apart."

No honeymoon to chase. Just a contract. And a man who never blinked first. He walked in without a word, straight to the elevator. I followed. I always followed now. When the doors closed, the mirror caught our reflections. Two strangers in matching scars. He didn’t say anything. But he was standing close. So close that I could hear his breath, even when he didn’t want me to. When we reached the top floor, he stepped out and turned right. I waited, uncertain. The hallway was dim, long. Like something out of a place where dreams go to die.

One moment of love at a time. Until it became this. This beautiful, chaotic, imperfect life. Theirs. Completely, utterly theirs. And neither of them would change a single thing. Not the struggles. Not the pain. Not the fear. Because all of it had led here. To this moment. This peace. This love. Perfect in all its imperfect glory. Exactly as it was meant to be. Forever. Their forever. Always.

The Stranger For one terrifying second— nobody moved. God. Not Adrian. Fair. Not Elena. Reasonable. Not Lily. God. Because Peanut was standing beside a stranger. Fair. A complete stranger. Reasonable honestly. And she looked happy. God. Perfectly happy. Fair. Which somehow made everything worse. Reasonable. Then Adrian crossed the distance. God. Immediately. Fair. Not running. Reasonable. Not walking. God. Something in between. Fair. The speed of a father who had spent the last fifteen minutes imagining every nightmare possible.

Madison and I walked out the door and out the gate. We headed to a park, which had a clear view of the street. "How will we know when EJ gets here?" "I have no idea. I guess they'll start yelling," I answered with a laugh," We should have called the cops." "Bad idea. The McCalisters control most of them in and around London." "How are you and Anton brother and sister?" I asked as I got a kid's swing. "His father impregnated my mother. End of story."

"We've been together for a long time, but this might be it. I don't know." "Hmm." Chloe wasn't sure what to say to him. She wasn't sure why he was even telling her. Maybe he didn't need to think. Maybe he needed to talk. So she just did her part and listened awkwardly. "We get along great, really. Until we don't, and then all hell breaks loose, and it's like we are oil and vinegar or something." "Hmm," Chloe added a nod which seemed to encourage him. "It's like we are the perfect couple one day and the next we're a mess. We might as well be strangers. No more than that, we act like we loathe each other for no reason."

Strangers. One was pale as frost, with silver hair slicked back and a navy suit tailored to cruelty. The second had black curls, loose around his shoulders, with a half-lidded gaze that screamed danger. The last moved with a cane, but his posture said he didn’t need it—he just liked the authority it gave him. They weren’t looking at the art the way others did. They were searching. Their eyes swept the room like weapons. And then they stopped. At mine. Number 27.

It is an upgrade from the shelter that was my home for the past four months. We are at the entrance when a tall rough looking guy on a grey suit comes out of a car parked right at the entrance approaches us. It’s as if he was waiting for us, or more like her. “The newlyweds. I guess congratulations are in order,” he smirks with a scowl before scanning me from head to toe with his murderous eyes. It’s only been a minute, yet I already hate him. Amari does not respond but continues to push my wheelchair forward.

The sky was a perfect, cloudless, clear blue. Victor and Dynasty sat and listened to the sound of the waves crashing just over the banks. The only other sound was an occasional vehicle passing by here and there. It was truly a quiet little spot on the outskirts of Miami—a perfect hideaway that would offer the two of them the freedom to just be normal lovers.