Inanimate Insanity Scratch Novels & Stories

"After hiding from me for three years, I've finally found you," I say to her, my eyes scanning her from head to toe. "I wasn't hiding. I was simply living my life without you," she scoffs at me, crossing her arms. "It doesn't matter anyway, because here you are now. You look beautiful." "Mr Partridge, I'd appreciate it if we kept things between us strictly professional." There she goes again, calling me by my last name, which was once her own. "We're not working right now. Let's just talk." "Mr Partridge, have a good evening." As she walks away, I'm so captivated by her confidence that I only stand in place and watch her the entire time. I see no trace of the vulnerable woman who was once my wife. Not only is she bold and beautiful, but she hates me. ~~~ Three months after her miscarriage, Layla is served divorce papers by her billionaire husband, Nathan. He wants her to leave because he's reconnected with the girl of his dreams. This leaves Layla shattered and no amount of begging can make him change his mind. Though she starts from scratch in a new town, they meet again three years later. He's now her new boss and this time, he's desperate to win her back With only a thirst for revenge in her heart and a new man in her life who's also a billionaire, is there even the slightest possibility of Nathan getting a second chance to make things right with her? Or is he too late and will live the rest of his life wishing he should've cherished her?

The day the Thorne family announced our engagement, the New York underworld let out a collective sigh of relief. Because I was set to marry Daemon, the most straitlaced Don in the city, which meant I could no longer be the wild rose who tore up the racetrack. But I resisted with every fiber of my being, finding creative ways to test his limits. During his ten-million-dollar card game with a rival family's Capo, my hand "slipped" and sent a bottle of 1945 Romanee-Conti spilling across the ancient map that outlined their territories, sabotaging the entire negotiation. Daemon, however, just slowly and deliberately wiped the wine from the back of his hand. He didn't even frown as he cleaned up my mess. Then I "accidentally" let my spirited Arabian stallion loose in his immaculately manicured courtyard. The beast went wild, trampling his prize-winning rose garden into mud. But he arrived with his private doctor in tow, crouching before me as his long fingers gently traced the scratch on my arm. "Did the beast hurt you?" Just that one question, and my heart melted completely. "Daemon, I can marry you. But before that, has there ever been another woman who owned your heart?" "I don't share my man. Not in any way." He pointed to his heart, his gaze unwavering as he met my eyes. "Before you, this was empty." After we married, the word on the street in New York's circles of power was this: If you angered Don Thorne, his Donna might plead your case. But if you angered the Donna, you were on your own. Even I began to believe that Daemon, that mountain of ice, would eventually melt for me. Until the day I went to find him, clutching a positive pregnancy test, bursting with joy. Only to hear the family's Consigliere ask him, from the top-floor study, what the best lie he'd ever told was. Daemon chuckled and said casually, "She asked me if anyone had my heart before her." "I told her no."

I'd had a crush on my brother's best friend, Ethan—the most powerful Alpha of our Northern Territory—since I was twelve years old. When I was fifteen, I boldly confessed my feelings to him. He laughed and patted my head, casually promising, "When you turn eighteen and shift, if you're my mate, I'll mark you." That offhand promise became my greatest hope for three years. I spent every day waiting for my wolf to awaken, praying to the Moon Goddess that she would designate us as mates. But on the night of my eighteenth birthday, after my wolf first awakened, I was shocked to discover that Ethan truly was my mate! Ignoring the intense shifting pain coursing through my body, I immediately shifted into my wolf form and ran toward Ethan's training grounds. I clutched the gift I'd prepared long ago, but instead heard Ethan urgently confessing to his Omega assistant Victoria: "Who would be stupid enough to actually care about a true mate? The bond between her and me is just the Moon Goddess's mistake. I only love you. I'll only mark you as my Luna." The words hit me like silver bullets to the chest. My wolf whimpered in pain, the mate bond burning like acid in my veins. I stood frozen behind the trees, watching the man I'd loved for six years dismiss our sacred connection as if it meant nothing. Later, Ethan introduced Victoria as his "fiancée." When Victoria demanded that I publicly bless their marking ceremony, Ethan remained completely indifferent to my humiliation. "Sylvia should give us her blessing," Victoria announced at the pack meeting, her voice sweet as poison. "After all, she's been like a little sister to Ethan all these years." Every wolf in the room could smell my distress. But Ethan said nothing, refusing to even look at me. When rogue wolves attacked our territory and I was surrounded, Ethan didn't hesitate to scoop up Victoria—who had only a tiny scratch on her finger—and carry her away to find the pack healer. He left me bleeding and alone, silver claws ha