Villainous Threads

Adrian woke to warmth, too much warmth. His heart nearly stopped when he realized his head was resting against Kaelen’s chest, their legs tangled beneath the sheets. Panic surged. He shoved himself upright, only to freeze when he saw it, thin, glowing red threads coiling around his wrist, binding him to Kaelen. His blood ran cold. “What the hell…?” Adrian whispered, staring at the unmistakable bond mark. Kaelen stirred, blinking awake. For a moment, confusion flickered in his eyes, then shock. He tugged the sheet up to cover himself, gaze darting between Adrian and the red mark linking them. “What did you do? Adrian hissed, his voice breaking. You’re my sister’s fiancé! You’re supposed to be her mate, not...” He trembled as he scrambled for his clothes. Kaelen sat up, still staring at the line as though it mocked him. “I… I don’t know. But this—this isn’t a mistake. Adrian, you’re my mate.” “No!. Adrian’s hands shook as he pulled his shirt over his head. Whatever happened last night...forget it. This is wrong. You hear me? It never happened. Don’t you dare breathe a word of this to anyone.” Kaelen’s voice softened, almost pleading. “Adrian…” But Adrian couldn’t bear to listen. His chest ached as he turned away, slamming the door behind him, leaving Kaelen staring at the red bond that refused to fade. Two souls tied together by fate. One forbidden connection that could destroy them both.

During the ten years since I was found and brought to my biological family, Sonia Baxter, the girl who took my place, and I have been as close as real sisters. Even Mom says that Sonia cares more about me than a real sister would. I once swore I'd give my life to protect our special family of four. When Sonia is rushed into emergency surgery with a ruptured cerebral aneurysm, I am in my office, calmly practicing a basic suturing technique on a surgical simulator. On the screen, the robotic arm threads the needle with such precision that it looks like a work of art. A few minutes later, my boyfriend, Oliver Lyons, slams open the office door and shouts at me, "Amelia Baxter! Sonia's in critical condition. Only your micro-dissection skills can save her! Every expert in the hospital is waiting for you! We've got less than an hour before the window closes!" He looks at me with hopeful eyes. I'm the only person in the country capable of performing a surgery this complex. My hands are even known as the "Hands of God". However, I simply reply with a hum and continue fiddling with the model. Suddenly, my parents rush in. Mom grabs my arm and cries out, "Amelia! That's your sister in there! How could you just stand by and watch her die?" I gently pull away from her and hold my right hand out in front of them. This hand, which had once created countless medical miracles, is now trembling slightly. "Unfortunately, since yesterday, I've been showing symptoms of essential tremor. Dad, Mom… this hand is ruined."

“Desmond,” I breathed out, “don’t.” But he didn't listen to my plea. His lips found my neck, his teeth gently grazing the frantic pulse that betrayed my panic. My skin instantly lit up beneath his mouth, a complete traitor to my mind. When his hand slid lower, tugging at the drawstring of my skirt, a terrifying mix of panic and deep heat crashed together inside me. “Desmond, please. This is wrong.” “Nothing about you has ever been wrong to me,” he growled out against my throat. Clothes instantly fell away as if they had never mattered. My shirt. His shirt. My skirt. The last threads of my will to fight. He settled heavily between my thighs, a burning hot weight. I felt him hard against me, thick and urgently insistent. My breath hitched sharply when the blunt head of his cock nudged my entrance. “Tell me to stop, Ana,” he said, his voice ragged, his eyes desperately locked on mine. “Say the word, and I will immediately.” I opened my mouth to speak. No sound escaped. He pushed in, moving with agonizing slowness, stretching me open inch by painful inch. A broken, strangled sound left my throat as he filled me completely, buried deep to the hilt inside my most intimate space. My inner walls instantly clenched around him, shocked, aching, and intensely alive. He stilled his movement, letting me fully register every powerful throb of him inside me. “Fuck, Ana,” he groaned, his forehead dropping to mine. “You feel completely like mine.” Then, he moved again.

We all have an inspiration to live. We all have that one person who keeps us from fighting and moving. That someone who keeps our heart beating. That someone who keeps on giving us a blissful morning. But what if one morning while laying in the dark, the person you loved the most is the person you can't remember anymore? Fall Navarez never thought that this day would come. Never did he think of losing the memories of that someone in his head. Later did he realize, he came up with a question: "Who's Grace?" There's a lot of variations in their testimonies. Some have scarlet threads attached. Some had loose strings which means a dead end. Fall Navarez didn't know what story he had to believe. He wanted to believe them all, but every person he asked, died the day after. "Grace is your girlfriend, Fall." "Hell no! Grace is your wife." "That would be gross, but I only know was that Grace is your sister." "Oh my God, you really don't know, do you? Grace is your f*ckin' psychologist!" Why would Fall had a psychologist, assuming that Grace is indeed one? "You're hell-bent, Fall! You're crazy!" "Who's Grace?! Answer now or I'll f*cking kill you!" He smirked. "As you did to your mother?" he held his tongue and spit saliva at Fall. "Hell yeah! YOU KILLED YOUR F*CKING MOTHER!" Maybe there's someone who's deceiving. Maybe someone had asked them to deceive Fall! But wait, where was the lie? To the you-killed-Grace part or the Grace-is-your-mother part? Hmm, did Grace really fall from grace? "Put the gun in your mouth. . . pull the trigger." FALL FROM GRACE by ANONYGLITCH