Unordinary John Vs Seraphina Novels & Stories

Each line was a small, precise amputation. Jonathan's hand hesitated over the documents as if he were about to sign away an old promise in a grocery shop. "Sera, think about Oliver." "I am thinking about Oliver," I said. "If the press publishes doctored clips of him saying he is happier with Miss Sterling, do you really want his childhood to be that soundbite? No one wins there. Not him. Not us." I folded my hands over the envelope that held my mother’s painting certificate. I had wrapped the painting in cloth and hid it under my coat. It was the only thing I would not let them touch.

Before she moved to Dinuh she was a carefree little girl that spent her parent's money and spent her time shopping , partying and having fun and that was because it was all her parents allowed her to do , as their only child Seraphina wasn't allowed to work , she wasn't allowed to do anything that they felt would stress her , all they wanted from her were grandchildren to spoil even more than they spoiled her , although she still didn't care about public opinion she wanted a chance to prove to herself to her parents , to prove that shecshe survive in the big world without her their money . When she first arrived in Dinuh she'd opened a new account and had refused to use the one her parent's

The world thinks Seraphina is the luckiest woman alive. A famous supermodel and married to Maximilian Thorne, the richest man on earth. She lives in a mansion and wears diamonds every day. But behind closed doors, her life is a nightmare. Her husband treats her like a toy he can break. His two brothers and sister treat her like a servant. Even his mother joins in on the abuse. She has no one. No way out. Until the new bodyguard walks in. His name is Killian Cross. Six years ago, Seraphina was his whole world. Then she ran away, leaving him alone to raise their baby daughter. He spent every day for six years hating her. He didn't take this job or hide his identity to protect her, he took it

Nova seemed resolute, and for the moment, that was enough. But as she sank back into the bed, exhaustion still pulling at her bones, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the storm outside had nothing on the one brewing inside the walls of this mansion. --- The next morning came far too quickly for Seraphina, her dreams filled with flashes of faces she couldn’t place, sounds she couldn’t understand. She woke with a sense of unease, her heart still pounding from the events of the night before. She sat up, stretching, when a knock at the door startled her once again. This time, there was no hesitation, no silence before the door opened. Instead, it swung wide, and a tall, lean figure stepped ins

I breathe heavily as he pins me to the wall, his hands wrapped tight around my throat I could barely breathe. ‘You hear me, Sera? I found you first. I noticed you first! I fell for you first. No one else, I mean, no one should put their hands on you, because if they do, I swear to God, Sera, I'll fucking break their arms and legs and serve it to you to eat!’ He growls. Seraphina Puckett is the perfect definition of trauma. A walking trauma. She tries to navigate her life, trying to bring in sunshine but as the world is determined to make it rain on her, what does she do? Does she get beaten in the rain or walk through it? When her abusive father gets out of prison and is out t

But the thought had my wolf pushing to come out, itching to kill any male who'd even dare be within fifty feet of her, looking at her romantically. Trotting back into the study, I walk over to my desk, open a hidden drawer, and pull out an old leather-skin book—a personal journal from centuries ago. The pages are filled with inked ramblings about a woman named Seraphina, the first and only woman who ever made me feel anything strangely romantic or affectionate… and who also died because of it. But the more I read, the more an unsettling truth dawned on me: Seraphina had a striking connection to Scarlett. They were fierce in their own way, strong women who couldn't easily be controlled. If my

"Clara, that's blasphemy!" "It's only a story," Clara defended, grinning. "Besides, didn't you feel it? The way the air changed when he entered? Like even God was listening." "You're impossible," Agnes muttered, though her lips twitched as if hiding a smile. Laughter bubbled up again, bright and dangerous, like children caught playing at the edge of a cliff. From her cot, Seraphine lay utterly still. Her rosary twisted tight in her hand, beads digging into her palm. She kept her gaze on the ceiling, refusing to be drawn in. But their voices crawled through her ears, tugging at the corners of her restraint.

The next day, [Rina P.O.V] Seraphina brought her to my rooms just before dawn. The girl was a first-year, human by scent, small and trembling with the particular fragility of someone who had seen something that rewrote their understanding of safety. She wore the gray uniform of the unaffiliated houses, the ones without noble blood or supernatural lineage, the ones who survived by being invisible. Her hair was brown, her eyes were gray, and her hands shook so badly that the cup of tea Emberlyn pressed into her fingers rattled against the porcelain.

But the Beta, Declan, suddenly appeared at my side as the people filed out. “I need to tell you something, Luna,” he said to me in a quiet voice. Then, he helped with my bag and walked me to my car, where we spoke. “What is it?” “I have been noticing strange things about Seraphina, especially the inconsistencies in her story and gaps in her background.” My heart leaped in my chest. “What kind of inconsistencies?” I asked as my eyes narrowed in curiosity. “She claims she was living in the Silver Creek Pack before coming here?” I nodded because it was the same thing that Alaric had told me.

A sickening crack came from there, enough to tell me that she was dead. “Kaden Caelthorn. I was hoping to reduce our audience but it seems the girl still has a lot to learn,” Seraphina said, stepping fully into the light of the Moon. She was completely naked save for a small scrap of red clothing that hung loosely off her arms. When Seraphina looked at me, anger flooded my veins. This was not family resemblance. She was wearing my mate’s face.