Story cover for  The Silver Mirage   by slickt244
The Silver Mirage
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Laufend, Zuerst veröffentlicht Jan. 09
The faint glow of city lights filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the lavish penthouse. Nadia adjusted her shimmering silver dress, the fabric clinging perfectly to her curves as though it had been sculpted just for her.
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The door opens and closes thirty times in five minutes, the table clutters endlessly. What's happening? Why am I being held by two officers in the corner of a counseling clinic? Is this an interrogation ground now? Shadows race past me, like mirages in a desert, faces flicker into view only to vanish the next second. The officers speak, but I can't hear them. My senses are failing me. Something inside me is taking control, and I might faint. If I wake up in a hospital, will this still be a nightmare, or something scripted? The city woke to devastation. The news spread like wildfire-Dr. Nadia, a champion for human rights, had been murdered in this very clinic. Yesterday, she voiced her fear for her life; no one listened. Now, she's gone. The press churned out articles minute by minute, TV channels broadcast live updates, and the internet roared with outrage. Police teams haven't slept. Top agents were deployed. That's how I met Inspectors Carla and Javed-while being held as both the prime suspect and the sole witness to this chaos. Dr. Nadia wasn't just a leader; she was a symbol of hope. She fought tirelessly for the oppressed, for justice, for rights the government ignored. Yet, she seemed to know her time was near. A week ago, she hinted at it but continued her fight. Yesterday, she paid the price-her life. Now, the city mourns her loss, consumed by guilt for ignoring her cries for help. The last time I saw Nadia, she was here, in this clinic. She didn't want to live. She seemed tired, desperate for respite. How does someone so adept at convincing others to hold on end up wanting to let go? Her death feels like a betrayal. She trusted us, and we failed her. I failed her. Now, it's on me to prove this was no accident-a cold-blooded murder. Or was it?
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Luna Rosewood, a flunking Psychology major was living the high-life with her best friend Rachel, in the big city. Nothing could get in her way. However what was mean's to just be a fling, ended up throwing her whole world upside down. Liam Greyson, heir to the Greyson Pack's title, was notorious as a womaniser, but something about this human was different. He felt drawn to her, the call of fate, tugging their strings together. ============================================================================== "Let's get this off you," he murmured against her mouth, his voice a low growl that sent a bolt of desire through her. She nodded, her breath coming in shallow gasps as he began to lift the fabric over her head. The dress slid off, pooling around her waist. The cool air kissed her bare skin, and she felt more alive than she had in years. He pulled away to look at her, his eyes roving over her body with a hunger that was both terrifying and thrilling. "I want you," he said, his voice a rough whisper. The words seemed to hang in the air, charged with a power that made her tremble. His eyes burned with a need so intense it was almost painful to look at. Luna's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she reached behind her and unhooked her bra, letting it fall away. His gaze dropped to her breasts, and she watched as his pupils dilated, his grip on her hips tightening. "What's taking so long?" she teased, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Let's take this to the bedroom." Liam's eyes snapped back to hers, the human in him momentarily forgotten. "Are you sure?" His voice was hoarse with the effort of controlling his instincts. "Hell, I'm sure," Luna said, her voice steady. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want you." --------- Hit 14k on 12/12/25 Hit Number 2 on Wolf stories tag! 16/12/25 [This story is a heavily smut-filled werewolf story. Please read at your own discretion and enjoy!]
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My eyes betrayed me, drifting down to her boobs. Fuck. I had always wanted to touch them, feel their weight, and lose myself in the softness. She wore an armless gown, dangerously short, with a plunging V-neck that left very little to the imagination. Her boobs spilled generously, teasing me with their fullness. She noticed my gaze, caught me staring, and instead of pulling away, she bit her lips-her eyes daring me to act.DA