p l a t i n u m
3 stories
Clayton by Whiskeyqueenn
Whiskeyqueenn
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2016 Watty Award Winner for Most VORACIOUS Read Sample only. This book is PUBLISHED! How do you tell yourself not to breathe? He is my mate, and she is his everything. But he chose her, against every single instinct that we both know. For that, I have been whipped, shunned, shamed, disgraced, and broken. All for one moment of madness, I could not control. After two years, I left, unable to bear the pain and loneliness anymore. That was then. This is now. I am back, and I am not the juvenile I was. I am now a fully grown female. I feel his eyes on me, but I can't. I won't. I shouldn't. Time has healed my wounds, but not the deep scars the whip seared into my flesh or his indifference to my heart. Each breath is a pain, and his scent overwhelms me. But I can smell her in it. He still will not give her up, despite his own body crawling with a deep, physical desire that only a mate can satisfy. I breathe: I exist, barely. I am a midwife. I bring life into a cruel world that haunts me every day, and the Doctor I work with is the only one in this pack who holds faith in me. He is the one person who stands up for me - and I feel light again when I am with him. What kind of life is this when two mates cannot be together, yet every part of their primal soul yearns for it infinitely? What kind of cruel moon would torture a she-wolf like this? I can't go on, but I must. Whatever happens, I must attend to my purpose and give my miserable life some meaning; perhaps I can snatch some joy in pieces, but now I see that he needs me - but he also wants her too. How do you tell yourself not to breathe?
Cassius by Whiskeyqueenn
Whiskeyqueenn
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SAMPLE ONLY. This book is PUBLISHED! Cassius Denver Valentine lost his mate. . . Now he thinks he's a monster. I just think he's broken. There's old blood on his hands and despite his efforts, it sticks to him like a second skin. I see the blood, but more so. . .I see him. And for some reason, he doesn't hide from me. I want to kiss his scraped-up knuckles. I want to tell him that he doesn't have to keep suffering. He's already bled enough. Problem is, when you love someone so fiercely, you also run the risk of being burned to ashes. Let the unraveling begin.