Hazel

Hello my girlies
          
          I am gonna be busy this week...won't be able to post chapters of any of the books. But I promise y'll I'll be coming back with double updates and more fun the next week.
          
          Luv, 
          Your author

SNEAKPEAK:
          Honey
          (Are you excited coz I am) 
          
          They stared—rage and heartbreak colliding in silence. Then Evelyn whispered, “You destroyed me.”
          
          Harry’s throat bobbed.
          “And you saved me. And I hate you for it,” he said, voice barely steady.
          
          “I hate you!” she shouted again, tears streaming.
          
          “Then why are you crying?”
          
          “In three bloody years,” he shouted, his chest heaving, “you never left my head, Evelyn! Not once! I tried everything—music, tours, crowds, every damn distraction I could find—but you were there. Always there!”
          
          His voice cracked on the last word. He gripped the shirt tighter, knuckles white. “I hate you for that,” he hissed, stepping up another stair, his face drawn with fury and pain. “I hate that you’re still here—” he thumped his chest hard “—when I begged myself to forget you!”
          
          “I hate you!” she cried, voice cracking mid-word. “I hate you for always trying to protect me—like I’m some fragile thing that’ll break without you! I didn’t ask for your protection, Harry—I needed your trust!”
          
          Harry’s eyes glistened, his jaw tight, breath ragged.
          “Oh, you think I wanted to protect you?” he roared back, voice hoarse. “I hate you for making me! For making me care when I swore I wouldn’t. For making my heart go insane every damn time you so much as breathe my name!”
          
          Her tears fell harder. “I hate you for confusing me! For saying you love me one second and destroying me the next!”
          
          He stepped closer, his voice raw. “And I hate you for making me lose control—of everything I am! I can’t think straight when you’re near! I can’t breathe, I can’t sleep—every time I close my eyes, you’re there!”
          
          Evelyn shook her head violently, crying harder. “I hate that you still make me feel safe! Even when you’re the reason I’m bleeding inside!”
          
          Harry’s voice cracked, his anger crumbling into pain. “And I hate that I can’t stop loving you—no matter how much you hurt me, no matter how much I try to hate you back!”

SNEAKPEAK
          To pluck a primrose
          
          He turned away, his jaw tightening. “Because punishment,” he said quietly, “means nothing if it doesn’t come with mercy.”
          
          Her brow furrowed in confusion. “That makes no sense—”
          
          He looked back at her sharply. “It does to me.”
          
          The room went still. The candle flame flickered between them like a heartbeat.
          
          Primrose’s voice softened, fragile now. “What goes on in that mind of yours? What makes you hurt the very people you protect?”
          
          He gave a faint, bitter laugh. “Because kindness is weakness in a world like this. They taught me that early. Every time I tried to be good, someone used it to break me.” His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice low and rough. “So I learned to be the villain first. The feared one. That way, no one can touch you.”
          
          Her throat tightened. “But they do touch you,” she said softly. “Every cruel word, every frightened look — it kills something in you. You build walls thinking they’ll keep the world out, but all they do is keep you alone.”
          
          He looked at her then — truly looked — and for the first time, the mask slipped.
          
          Something raw flickered in his eyes, almost pain. “You think I don’t know that?” he whispered.
          
          Primrose swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. “Then stop. Stop trying to be hated when all you ever wanted… was to be loved.”
          
          He stared at her for a long moment — silent, unmoving — before turning away again, hiding his face in the shadows.
          
          “Go,” he said quietly, almost pleading. “Before I say something I can’t take back.”

Hi can you check out my story ms.mcgraw? and vote it? I’ll highly appreciate your support thank you!

SNEAKPEAK
          honey
          
          Harry stood a few steps behind, silent. The anger that had once shaken the walls had now burned itself out, leaving only a heavy stillness. Evelyn tucked the blanket under Winnie’s chin, leaned down, and kissed her daughter’s forehead.
          
          “I’ll be right back,” she whispered.
          
          She turned to leave, but Harry stepped forward. He crouched beside the bed, his eyes softening as they rested on the little girl’s sleeping face. He reached out, hesitating for a moment—then gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. Her tiny lips twitched, almost smiling in her dreams.
          
          Without thinking, Harry bent down and pressed a tender kiss on Winnie’s forehead.
          
          “Goodnight, love,” he murmured.
          
          Winnie shifted slightly, the faintest sound escaping her lips—half a sigh, half a sleepy word. Then came the softest murmur, barely audible:
          
          “...Daddy…”
          
          Harry froze. His breath caught in his throat.
          
          "Daddy..."
          
          The room suddenly felt too quiet, too real. His hand lingered near her hair, trembling faintly. He stared at her, at the small rise and fall of her chest, at the innocence that trusted him without hesitation. Something in his chest cracked open—something he hadn’t even realized was still locked away.
          
          He swallowed hard, his voice a whisper barely escaping him.
          “I’m here, bee.”
          
          He brushed one last kiss against her temple before standing. His eyes shimmered with something unspoken—regret, love, and a fragile hope he was afraid to name.
          
          

SNEAKPEAK
          To Pluck a Primrose
          
          Harry turned the diamond between his fingers, its cold brilliance catching the flickering light of the chandeliers. It wasn’t just a gem—it was the kind of stone whispered about in auctions and locked behind glass in royal vaults. Rare. Exquisite. The kind of creation that seemed too perfect for mortal hands, as if God himself had carved it from a fallen star.
          
          But even its beauty paled when his gaze lifted across the ballroom.
          
          There she was—Primrose.
          
          Soft and elegant, dressed in a gown the color of midnight and moonlight stitched together. The satin clung and flowed in perfect balance, whispering with every graceful step. Her laughter—a soft, tinkling sound—mingled with the music as she leaned closer to Annabelle, the faintest curl of a smile playing on her lips. The pearls at her throat glowed faintly against her pale skin, and for a fleeting moment, she looked like something the heavens had forgotten to reclaim.
          
          Harry’s grip tightened around his glass. The red ale glimmered like blood beneath the candlelight, and his dark-green eyes—deep, restless, consuming—fixed on her with something that wasn’t quite admiration. It was possession, thinly disguised as wonder.
          
          “It’s a rare thing,” murmured a voice beside him, nodding toward the diamond in his hand.
          
          “Harry own every rare and exquisite thing God ever made," Harry said, his gaze didn’t shift from Primrose. His smile curved, slow and dangerous.
          
          
          The man chuckled lightly. "Who said that?.”
          
          Harry turned, his voice low, threaded with something unsettling. “Harry himself.”

SNEAKPEAK
          To pluck a primrose
          
          Harry’s lips curved into a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
          “So, my brave little wife, hm?” he drawled. “You were trembling like a leaf a moment ago. Scared of a little pistol.”
          
          Primrose sniffed, rubbing at her damp eyes. “I wasn’t scared,” she mumbled. “Just… surprised.”
          
          “Surprised?” His brows lifted, amusement flickering. “Have you seen your face?”
          
          She blinked up at him, then hesitantly turned toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back — tear-streaked cheeks, trembling lashes, and lips pressed tight in embarrassment. Quickly, she wiped her eyes again and tried to smile, though it wobbled.
          
          Harry stepped closer, his reflection appearing behind hers. “Good heavens,” he murmured, pretending to inspect her. “You look like a little potato.”
          
          Her mouth fell open in offense. “I do not!”
          
          “You do,” he countered, grinning now. He reached forward and caught her chin between his fingers, gently squishing her cheeks until they puffed up. “See? All soft and round and squishy.”
          
          “My Lord!” she protested, her voice small and muffled between his fingers.
          
          He chuckled, tilting her face upward. “Rosy cheeks, tiny nose, pouty lips — a perfect little potato face.”
          
          Primrose frowned harder, which only made him laugh more. He leaned down, his voice dropping to a murmur near her ear. “Don’t make that face, sweetheart. You’ll make me want to eat you whole.”
          
          Her cheeks burned crimson, and she quickly turned away — which, of course, only made him laugh again.

Sneakpeak
          Honey:
          
          The air grew heavier — thick with warmth and something unnamed.
          Evelyn’s pulse quickened. She could feel every inch of distance between them and how close it wasn’t. Her body tensed, caught between wanting to move closer and being too afraid to.
          
          Harry shifted behind her, breathing uneven. The faint brush of his arm against her back sent a shiver down her spine. He leaned closer without meaning to, drawn by instinct more than reason. His breath grazed her skin, and she froze.
          
          For a moment, neither moved. The tension pulsed like a heartbeat between them.
          Then Harry caught himself — his hand tightening in the sheets. His voice came out rough, low, almost pleading, “Evelyn… don’t.”
          
          She didn’t turn around. Couldn’t. The heat between them was unbearable, aching. Her eyes stung, chest tight, because she knew — this wasn’t the right time, even if every part of her wanted it to be.
          
          He exhaled shakily and leaned back, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m sorry.”
          
          “I know,” she whispered.
          
          Her hand trembled as she turned toward him. Their eyes met, dark and searching. He lifted a hand, almost touching her, then stopped—his jaw tight, breath rough. The pull was unbearable.
          
          Harry’s control snapped for a heartbeat. He leaned over her, his hands braced on either side of her, caging her in without meaning to. The world narrowed to the space between them — her quickened breath, the tremor of her chest rising against his.
          
          Evelyn’s eyes lifted to meet his, wide, uncertain.
          He froze, realizing how close he was — how easily one more second could destroy the fragile line they’d both held.
          
          Then he exhaled sharply, forcing distance, pressing his forehead to hers instead.
          “Don’t,” he whispered, voice unsteady. “If I start, I won’t stop.”

SNEAKPEAK
          To Pluck a Primrose
          
          He leaned back in his chair, studying her with a strange mix of exasperation and tenderness. “You could have asked me to let you go,” he murmured, almost to himself. “To give you back your life, your name. And yet—” he gave a soft, incredulous laugh, “—you ask only for that?”
          
          Primrose lowered her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper. “Because… that’s all I want.”
          
          For a long while, he said nothing. The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock and the quiet rustle of paper between them. Then, almost reluctantly, he reached across the table and brushed his knuckles against her hand.
          
          “You truly are impossible,” he muttered. “And yet…” His tone softened. “We’ll see.”
          
          Her heart fluttered—half in hope, half in fear—as she whispered, “Thank you, my lord.”
          
          Harry’s hand paused midway between irritation and tenderness. He brushed his fingers lightly through a lock of her hair, then let them fall to her cheek. His touch lingered—gentle, but charged.
          
          “You could have chosen freedom,” he said quietly. His gaze dropped to the thin silver chain resting at her throat—a mark of the bond that bound her to him. “Yet you ask for something so small.”
          
          Primrose swallowed, her voice trembling. “I never thought to leave, my lord.”
          
          He searched her eyes, expression softening, but there was still a shadow in it—something almost pained. “You don’t even see the bars,” he murmured. “That’s what frightens me most.”
          
          For a heartbeat, neither moved. Then he drew his hand back, the warmth of his touch fading as quickly as it came. “Go,” he said quietly. “Before I forget what mercy feels like.”

SNEAKPEAK
          Honey:
          
          He leaned closer, so close that his nose nudged hers gently, a soft, tantalizing brush that made her close her eyes instinctively. She felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek and the gentle press of his chest through the wet fabric of their clothes.
          
          His lips traced tiny, careful paths along her neck again, never daring to touch hers. Every movement was slow, teasing, meant to draw out the tension without breaking the line into anything bolder. Evelyn’s hands hovered over his chest, fingers curling slightly, caught between wanting to push and wanting to stay.
          
          She breathed unevenly, cheeks flushed, the cool water clinging to her damp hair and clothes. Her pulse raced, and yet the soft, teasing contact—this “almost kiss” along her jaw and neck—left her suspended between panic and a strange, thrilling desire.
          
          Harry held her there, smirking faintly, letting the slow intimacy speak for itself, their closeness charged with unspoken tension.
          
          Harry’s lips brushed along her jaw again, light and teasing, but this time Evelyn felt it differently—an unexpected spark igniting low in her chest. Her pulse raced, breath hitching as the urge to let him go further, to close the tiny space between their lips, flared like a silent fire.