Violet Lightning

Violet eyes with piercing sight. Mane of gold in pale moonlight. Skin so hard and lily white. Voice so soft, yet filled with might. He comes to me in the dark of night. Flash of teeth, smile so slight. There is no fear, no need to fight. In his embrace, I crave his bite. -S.R. Michele, or Shelly to those closest to her, is a typical 21 yr old, trying to find her way in life. She has good family, a close circle of friends. She's outgoing and friendly, and a bit reckless and impulsive sometimes. And she has certain gifts...when she touches things, she can see into the past, she can feel what was felt by others, and she can sense things before they happen. Ok, so maybe she's not so typical. An impromptu trip to New Orleans, a party on Bourbon Street, and an attempted assault in a dark alley lead her into a world she didn't know existed...but one she's not afraid of. She doesn't know if the violet-eyed stranger that comes to her rescue, and follows her home, is a friend or a foe - and honestly, she doesn't care. Once you've had a taste of the darkness, it's hard to pull away... **** This book was written in the late 1990's - early 2000's, and originally published in 2004, under the title: Diary of a Vampire by S.M. Royston. It was my first book, and it wasn't long until I came to hate it! (Please, don't look it up - I promise you, it's terrible) So here we are, years later, and I've decided to throw out my original work, and re-write it. Because I'm the author, and I can do that. The story, characters, and settings are the same - but the writing style is different, and in my opinion, much, much better. I hope you enjoy it. ****

On our seventh year anniversary, my girlfriend, Rachel Winters, forces me to drink a glass of drugged champagne before dumping me onto the bed of an 80-year-old widow. "It's Bryon's first time attending a business meeting. He's still pure and oblivious, so he doesn't know how to satisfy an older widow's insatiable desire. "I have no choice but to ask you to seal this business deal on his behalf. Think of this as your way of helping me repay Bryon's family for raising me since young. "Don't worry, Corey. No one will know about this." After that, Rachel turns off the lights and leaves the room while ignoring my pleas for help. But the next day, the video of me and the widow going at it is spread across the Internet. My colleagues look down on me for resorting to such underhanded methods just to get promoted. They can't believe that I'm able to stomach the idea of sleeping with an 80-year-old widow. Thanks to the video, the company's reputation is greatly affected. Rachel holds a press conference immediately to address the issue. I thought she'd defend me, but I didn't expect her to change her tune. "I've already discussed this matter with the Dalton family. Corey Dalton shall take responsibility for what he's done to the widow. As for me, I will get engaged to Bryon Parson." I feel as though lightning has struck me on the spot. I've founded this company with Rachel and has stuck by her side through thick and thin, resulting in us rising as the new-time business moguls. But in the end, she decides to ditch me. "Corey, if you really want to stay by my side, you can remain as my side piece. In exchange, I'll help you shake that old woman off your tail." As I meet Rachel's smug gaze, I shake my head decisively. "I've already thought things through and decided that I'll be marrying the widow."

When I'm paying the pension for my jobless wife, Lilith Ingram, I accidentally find out that she's had a job this whole time. She's paid a salary of two thousand dollars, which is wired into her personal bank account. Every month, the money will be transferred elsewhere, leaving her without a single cent. I've never seen the money before. Back when our daughter, Maisy Ingram, was severely ill, we were 200 dollars short to pay for her hospital bills. I was so poor that I had to sell my blood and beg everyone around me just to get them to lend me money. But during that time, Lilith never thought of sharing the burden with me. She merely comforted me with empty words before transferring two thousand dollars to her first love, Hayden Grant, the next day. Our marriage of 30 years is reduced to nothing but a laughingstock. I place the divorce agreement that I've printed out in front of Lilith. It's a silent confrontation between us. "Must you really resort to this method?" Lilith snaps impatiently. "It's just two thousand dollars! You have an annual salary of 200 thousand dollars! Why care so much about chum change?" Even Maisy takes her side by calling me a petty, stingy geezer. "Everyone has an unattainable first love when they're still young! You should be grateful that Hayden has been holding back his urges without crossing the line for so many years!" I feel as though I got struck by lightning at that moment. It's then that I belatedly realize I'm the only outsider in this family. "Getting a divorce is fine by me. Hayden's getting on with the years. I just want to take care of him and send him off when his time eventually arrives." Maisy adapts a righteous tone. "As compensation for me, I get the house, the car, and the savings. You're leaving this marriage without a single cent under your name."

“You! What do you think you're doing?” She squealed, her eyes wide as she scrambled backwards in a panic. He didn't stop and instead, backed her up until she was sandwiched between the wall and himself. His hand grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him before leaning down till his lips was level with the her ear. “What do you think I'm doing?” His voice was a deep baritone that made her tremble. Her face flushed as she felt the signs of her arousal. He stuck out his tongue and lapped at her earlobe making her tremble and whimper. “Of course, I'm trying to get closer to my Luna.” With that, he didn't wait for her to say her usual protest of “I'm not your Luna” before he captured her lips in his, kissing her till her knees turned to jelly. Laila Reeds felt like her life was the happiest it could be and that nothing could go wrong. Her Alpha loved and cherished her. Her pack was flourishing and she was happy. But good things always come to an end. Laila suddenly finds that everything that her world was built on were lies and what she thought was love was only a ploy to get something from her. Shattered and condemned to death, she thought she wouldn't make it. But then he came. With his silver hair and violet eyes, he descended and killed her enemies while saying “Who dares to touch my mate?” Even with this, Laila wasn't moved as her heart was already dead. “Dead? Her heart is dead? What a joke. Watch how this Luna doting Lycan nurses her heart back to health. Soon, her heart would be beating again and it will be beating only for me.” he proclaimed with a confident smile.

As beautiful and desirable as Jenna is, she cannot be my mate. I break eye contact and turn to dismiss the crowd, determined to keep my distance from Jenna. As the crowds disperse, I begin to move towards the building, abandoned thousands of years ago by humans, a place that has become home. A shadow falls into step beside me, and I turn to regard them. It's my beta. Years older and more experienced, the beta had taught me all that I had needed to know after my father had been brutally killed in war. Even though he's my beta, I look up to him more than I'd care to admit. “The last thing I expected today was the announcement of a feast. I didn't know we had something to celebrate.” “It will be a small one,” I say, after I quickly turn. I am almost in my bedroom now, I have never been a prude, and I don't care that I am in the company of another, even though there's not a stitch of clothing on me. I move towards my wardrobe to make a selection, noting the dwindling collection in my closet. I really need to learn to shrug off my clothes before I turn, like the others do. “What shall we celebrate?” He asks, his eyes filled with curiosity. “The announcement of my mate,” I say, avoiding the wise eyes of my beta, a little afraid that if I were to make eye contact, he'd read the truth in them. “Your mate? Have you found her?” He asks, his voice tinged with excitement. “No.” I growl. I hate that I have to lie to my beta about this. But it's for the best. I am doing this for the pack. “Tonight, I, chose Violet as my mate

"Violà, listen to me," "No, hear me out Vivianna." Mason cut Valentino off, earning a glare from him. "Violà," Valentino started again. "Ugh I sometimes hate how I don't have a nickname for you." Mason mumbled under his breath. "Just can you both shut up? I am so overwhelmed with everything going on right now. On my one side, is none other than my babys' daddy, whom I used to love maybe still do. I don't know. And on the other hand is - sorry for being blunt, but literally my stalker. Who has been obsessed with me since I was a... well child?" "Well when you put it like that-" "You are the motherfucking stalker?" Valentino took a threatening step towards Mason. "Hey, I know you are involved in mafia and all but I know karate alright? I am a yellow belt... well a pink one but for some reason they made me wear the yellow belt again in my second year. The point is don't underestimate me." "Shut up, you both." I yelled. "But I was just saying-" I gave Mason a warning look, he sighed but still turned to Valentino. "Yellow belt. Remember!" *** A heavily pregnant, Vivianna Violet left her soon to be husband three years ago. She has always been possessive over her baby. She has ppd and thinks anything or anyone would take her baby away. But that wasn't the only reason she left Valentino. Valentino Ivan Morte is the most feared man in the country. He is a cruel, scary and demanding mafia don! He suddenly finds a tip that the love of his life is in New York and decides to stay to find her. Mason Logan is Vivianna's colleague. But he wasn't just that because he always changes work place when she does.

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.