Wives Novels & Stories

He says before leaving me with a group of young adults looking up. I follow their gaze and almost immediately, my face shows up on the screen along with some information about me. Name: AVA COLLINS Age: 21 Crimes: Mass Murder, Arson, Kidnapping etc Qualities: Pro in weaponry, Skillful, Has Anger issues, Dangerous and conniving nature. Grade: A* Well, I guess I know why that woman was asking so many questions. Everyone seems shocked apart from the dangerous clique. They just seem impressed. After a while, Everyone goes back to whatever they were doing and the girl Rhea walks up to me wearing black workout clothes.

a female warrior questioned. “I know we can,” Jessica responded confidently. “Do not believe them! They are just going to get you killed!” the female warrior on the ground shrieked. The crowd ignored her and started to nod their heads, before some howled, acknowledging their support and recognition for the two women standing in front of them.

my wife answered in a husky voice. Joan leaned forward and took one of my wife's nipples in her mouth and started to suck on it. My wife groaned softly at her touch and held Joan's head against her breast, throwing her head back, her eyes closed. Denise, in the mean time, was washing my wife's ass and was soaping up and down her crack, between her cheeks.

She definitely did her research on us. “Well,” Triston placed a smile on his lips, “My beautiful wife, Iris, isn’t some breeder, but when god is willing, we will make some.” We will never have children. I knew that. He knew that, but at least he would never embarrass me in public. We continued to make our rounds, Triston handling most of the speaking. Most of them were his distant family, wondering how business was, what was going on at the business, money-related topics. Stuff that bored me to hell and back. On times, I would speak, and I was asked once again why I looked so pale, vampire-like… And why did we have no children? Understandable. Most of them were old-fashioned, so why would T

Vivienne We're having another meeting with Alpha Quirin, Luna Kennedy, and my team that will go out on the streets Monday night to try and find these she-wolves who need help. When Luna Kennedy asked me about the medical centers for women on the streets, I laughed. “I wouldn’t call them medical centers, Luna. If your idea of those facilities is anything close to a pack hospital, then you are sorely mistaken. Those places are lucky to find the instruments needed to care for pregnant women or treat the injuries that their abusers cause them. Sterilization is boiled water that never gets as clear as it should, and discarded bars or containers of liquid soap found in trashcans. If we were lucky,

Vivienne shakes her head, “He took advantage of me. When I saw you in that hospital bed, your back was covered in burns, and the doctors said you might not survive. It broke something in me. I’m not the type of woman who cheats.” “You never came to see me,” I say through gritted teeth. “I did. When they first brought you in. Before the surgery. They were still trying to remove your clothes. I ran away when I saw it.” I scoff, “So you are the type that runs when things get hard. I’m glad I didn’t marry you. I deserve a woman who accepts all of me, even my scars.” “Do you think your wife could stomach it. I’d like to see what her reaction would be. What does she do when she sees your scars?”

"But remember—victory belongs only to those who fight. Not all battles are won with claws and fangs. There are many roles as vital as the warriors—chefs who will keep us fed, medics who will save lives, those who will guard the palace, and care for our young. I will not demand that anyone fight. Only volunteers will step onto the battlefield with me tomorrow. So—those willing to face the enemy stand now." Chairs scraped the floor. Everyone, without exception, stood. Darina’s throat tightened. She was impressed and moved beyond words by their courage—their burning will to win, to risk everything. She shook her head slowly. "I am proud—proud of every one of you. You are brave beyond measure. B

His dead body was laid on the floor covered with a white sheet with people surrounding him and a woman over his chest as she wept like a woman who is sincerely in vain at his departure. While me. I sat out of all those people away from the body leaning back to the pillar with my legs cuddled to my chest, my hands around my legs as I looked at her with zero expression as the tear strains on my cheeks itched. I'm outcasted from his people while I'm his wife. I don't understand anything. I was married just yesterday and I became a widow today. And no one came to console me but strangely three women who are his mother, aunt, and sister were consoling that particular woman while I am staring at t

When women are oppressed, it's tradition. ― Letty Cottin Pogrebi “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” ― Margaret Atwood “Life affords you infinite possibilities to pay more attention to what is actually happening. Not just around you but what is Inside you.” ―Jeff Warren

“It's no surprise. Our guesses are almost always right. You know, right? Srwijaya’s foresight and everything.” Mrs. Maya snorted, her forehead covered in cold sweat from the pain. “You? From the witches of Sriwijaya? I will never believe!” the woman shook her head violently and cried out loud, “For whatever reason, I won't tell you where it is or she is! I'd rather die than give wolvire to you!” The man with the deep voice sighed. “It's up to you, Maya,” he said softly. A person who was standing beside the man suddenly thrust his weapon as fast as lightning. The sharp weapon stuck right into Mrs. Maya’s heart. The woman gasped loudly.