Romans & histoires Zara Muskura Mere Gumshuda

‘Damn I have a hot husband’ I said, fanning myself with my hand. ‘I hope you have some concealer with you’ Sasha said seriously. I frowned as I touched my face trying to find the offending culprit. Sasha chuckled at me. ‘Your boob, prekrasnaya’, he said pointing out the dark purple mark that stood out against my pale white skin. I looked through my makeup bag frantically to discover I had not brought any concealer and immediately sent a message to Darcy, Ruth and Kate.

Zara We arrived at the Duncan Pack, where a welcome ceremony was held for Alpha Caleb and his new Luna, Elisa, by their head omega, Madam Vicky, who was Alpha Caleb’s favorite in the pack. “Take her to the omega’s quarter,” Alpha Caleb told Madam Vicky, who turned to look at me. “What kind of work do you do the most?” Madam Vicky asked as we walked towards the quarter. I do all the work back home, but cooking is what I like most, I thought. I was lost in my thoughts, and she had to ask again.

I hissed. If she thought I was going to stand and watch her try to degrade me, then she had no idea of the Azelea she was meeting. This one had grown teeth, she can bite. “What? You suddenly think you are better?” she sneered, her hands crossed over her chest as she stared at me, glared more like. A stall opened; Jasmine walked out. Like minds really do thing each other. “Azelea, hi?” she smiled. I didn’t miss the way Zara’s head snapped towards her direction. Shock written on her face as she watched her. I almost laughed, “Be careful of this one, she will betray you… she isn’t as reliable as you would think,’ I said.

Chapter Thirteen Zara POV The mustard silk of my gown was suffocating. It clung to my ribs like a trap, tightening with every breath I forced into my lungs. Every single time the heavy oak doors swung open, a treacherous, humiliating jolt shot through my spine. My wolf lunged toward the gap, desperate and pathetic, sniffing the air for the scent of crisp winter rain and expensive scotch. Hunting for Lir.

“Maybe not, but right now? It’s all mine.” Kade grinned, leaning in. “Shall we leave this sad excuse for a party, Zara? There’s something better waiting for us.” Without looking back, I answered, “Yes, let’s go. I’ve had enough of this place.” As we turned to leave, Mila’s voice rang out again, dripping with venom. “You may have won this time, Zara, but I know your secrets. Don’t think you’re untouchable.” I glanced over my shoulder, satisfaction gleaming in my eyes. “Oh, Mila, go ahead—try me.”

I attended all my lectures before making my way to the cafeteria to have some much-needed coffee that needed to get into my system after a hectic day. I bought a coffee and as I was about to make my way towards an empty table I saw Maverick coming towards me. I knew I couldn't talk to him any longer and I turned around ready to rush out of the cafeteria when instead I bumped into a guy spilling all my coffee on his white shirt and branded white shoes. "What the fuck?" Way to go, Arabella.

If it got ruined, Damian Cole would probably march her out himself with a cardboard box and a fake smile. Idiot. Worrying about a spreadsheet while people are shooting. “Get down!” somebody yelled. But Zara didn’t listen. She crawled under the table because her favorite pen had rolled away and she couldn’t just leave it there. She was that kind of mess. A strong hand suddenly grabbed the back of her blazer and yanked. She landed flat on her back on top of someone warm and solid. He smelled like gun oil mixed with that cheap cedar soap they sold at Oshodi market for five hundred naira.

Today, however, the silence was broken. Zara was wheeling Begum Salma along the sun-dappled path. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine. Zara had let her hair down for the first time since arriving. Usually tied in a strict, professional bun, it now cascaded down her back in dark, wavy silken tiers, catching the golden highlights of the Oakhaven sun. "The air is so much better out here, Begum Sahiba," Zara said, her voice bright. She stopped the wheelchair near a bed of parched-looking roses.

"Dressed in white like she's some kind of pure, untouchable queen. She really thinks a fancy dress can wipe away the stench of being a broken, discarded mate." ​Zara glowered at the dais, her eyes narrowed into two hateful slits. Her gaze fixed entirely on the prominent curve of Elara's stomach, her jaw clenching so tight the skin around her mouth went white. The raw envy vibrating off her was palpable; she looked like she wanted nothing more than to tear that white silk to shreds with her bare hands. She let out a low, hostile hiss under her breath, her fingers twitching at her sides as if she were resisting the urge to shift right there on the polished floors.

CHAPTER TEN POV: Zara Marcus’s words dropped into the room like a match on dry grass. “No more secrets in this house, yeah?” He leaned back in his chair by the fire, that easy big brother grin on his face, completely unaware he’d just lit the fuse. Zara’s phone burned in her lap, the unknown number’s message still glowing: “Marcus knows more than you think. Ask Zara about the green dress.” Her stomach twisted so hard she thought she might be sick right there on the rug.