Washington Square Novels & Stories

"No, this is a mistake! A wolfless, overweight werewolf can't be my mate." His words hit me hard. Whispers erupt from the crowd, murmurs of disbelief and judgment that swirl around me like a storm. But I won't let them see how much it hurts. I won't give him the satisfaction. I square my shoulders, forcing a smile that feels like it's going to crack my face. "Well, Bran, I guess the Moon Goddess has a sense of humour after all," I say, despite the pain running through me. "Too bad she didn't give you one." Everywhere is silent now, shocked by my words. Bran's eyes turn red with anger. But I hold my ground, refusing to let him see how much I'm breaking inside. "Talia," he begins,

My husband, Luca, had a childhood sweetheart named Sophia. Years ago, during a brutal gang shootout, Sophia shielded him from the worst of the bloodshed, and since then, she had suffered from severe PTSD. Because of that, Luca would push aside family business every year and fly to our estate on a secluded island off the coast of Sicily to spend three months “helping her recover.” “Victoria, she lost her mind because of me,” he told me. “I’m responsible for her. I hope you can be magnanimous.” So, I nodded. And eventually, I got used to the fact that every year, my husband would disappear for three months to fulfill what he called a moral obligation. That was until the day I flew in without