Brianna grew up among the socialites and the Occult of New Orleans. When her adoptive father dies when she is only 10 she discovers just how sinister her mother can be. Now 21 she is in a race against time to get out before the Vipers find out exactly what they are losing. So that one day she can return and seek the retribution owed for the death of her father and to keep his coven's legacy from falling into darkness. Following her fathers divine word as a seer she takes to the Bayou to discover "The Beast that is her heart," What she finds is a whole lot of testosterone and a struggling family trying to keep a foothold as their pack dies out. They too have a vendetta of their own, for an old wound that Brianna's presence dredges up in their hearts. Can Brianna avenge herself and her father? Can they each protect their hearts? Because there's more than one beast in the swamp that she is falling for. Will she choose wisely or will she even choose at all? Being tangled in a web of friendships, family and broken souls, will they find their way together? or will the Vipers devour her soul?
Bri
My fingers brushed the smooth stone of the mausoleum. The tips traced the words of the machine-hewn inscription.
Sabastian Piere La' Blanc,
Dutiful Husband,
Leader, and Humanitarian.
The symbol of the coven etched beneath it. A coven raised within New Orleans meshing the world of cajun hereditary witches with the deep roots of voodoo practitioners. My fingers traced the dates from his birth to the day life ended in 1994, ten achingly long years ago. He deserved to have a craftsman etching his stone crypt, not some effortless, heartless machine, chiseling out empty words void of empathy. The pads of my fingers caressed each chip in the stone,I felt he deserved. There was nothing in the inscription, to note the little girl he left behind after his death. The only soul who still visited his grave every weekend, placing flowers in the vases at the door. The only one who still mourned his insurmountable loss. There is nothing here besides the lilies I attentively place and the tears that have been shed into the soil, washed away by rain and hurricanes alike. He had been everything to the little girl he saved out of the trash in the ninth ward. A tiny infant whose power and magic he said called him to stride through the filth of New Orleans' poorest district, following his divine gift through the drab streets and alleys in his tailored suit. Collecting the wailing child, he brought the innocent babe home to his barren wife to raise as their own.
The once vivid memories faded. Afternoons singing Cajun French ballads as we picnicked, on crab boil in the sticky heat of the Louisiana summer sun. Wandering the lush garden district while he gave me history lessons on the occult and non-occult happenings of our culture-rich home's past. Sitting with him in his study as he toiled away at his old tomes, looking for new ways to combine the strengths of multiple types of magic as I did my homework, or him helping me meditate to control the myriad of gifts developing in my young mind. I wondered what he would make of my many new, yet untested developments. I sighed before I spoke to him,
"Papa, there.will be a point where I will have to stop coming for a while. I can't stay to live out the Viper's will." That's what he called her as I sat by his bedside mopping the sweat from his brow. Her possession of him was now broken, yet another gris-gris, a foul curse, to steal his life now replaced it.
"Brianna," he said, his breath faltering, "Beware the Vipère (Viper) you are caught in her nest, this is my fault ma petite (my little one)." I had tried to hush him to save his strength but he wasn't having it. "Bide your time enfant de mon coeur (child of my heart), you must endure for a time before you flee. But when the time comes, fuis n'attends pas (flee don't wait), ma fille tu seras notre revanche (my daughter you will be our revenge). trouves la bête qu'est ton coeur (find the beast who is your heart)." Soon the jumbled English and French of his old-school Arcadian upbringing in Cajun country became intelligible, I only made out the French word for safe and bayou as he mumbled about beasts in the swamp, protect my Bri, but there was nothing I could make sense of. His eyes shut before he passed and I wept clinging to his hand. It had probably been hours before she found me there. A 10-year-old girl clutching the cold hand of the only person to ever show her true kindness. She grabbed me by the hair, dragged me out into the hall, and slammed the door shut. I could hear her screaming and cursing my father's corpse, blaming me for ruining everything. I tried to get into the door but I had little fight left after hours of tears. I heard smashing and destruction as, in a tantrum, she laid waste to the room. She would strike down anything in her way.
The mother who never wanted me. A woman jealous of a child's love, a mistress to darkness, who I once let hurt me with her words and actions. No more. I had been rebelling for a long time in tiny measures Lorraine or her minions couldn't hold against me. How would it look if they pulled me from school? Or forced me to quit a job where everyone in the coven and neighboring ones, humans and witches alike, had come to know me. My loophole was their images and I teetered dangerously on that ledge. I had a whole other life outside of their house of grotesque expectations. I pushed the envelope with what I wore and what I chose to study, and I slipped past their wide arching network of cameras or tracking devices to plot and plan my way out of this mess. Once I was out, I had a short window once I was 21 to accept my inheritance. It was something my mother didn't even know about. Something my father told me about when he had started to notice my mother's lashing out becoming more venomous, brash, and unhidden. It had been one thing for her to not want to rear me, a completely different one to outright punish my existence.
Once, he had walked around the corner and caught her slapping me so hard across the face my nose bled. I hadn't done anything, my mere existence goaded her, spurring her rage. She had attacked me over the tan shoes that I had paired with a yellow dress, called the combination a tasteless abomination, and whined about how I was trying to ruin her image at her party later that evening. I had thought she would be pleased I had worn the horror of yellow tulle she had picked out but it seemed I would never be good enough for her. I had once so desperately wanted her to love me, that beautiful woman with perfect blond hair, the lean length of her, the grace with which she moved. She was smart and calculating. I later realized the brightness in her blue eyes I had once seen as restrained warmth, was a cold kind of cunning ready to snatch your soul, your essence, your magic, and hand it over to the highest bidders of power. After seeing how I was treated behind his back, her hold on him began to dwindle. They fought and with his love for me he held on for a few months before his health declined, some putrid magic of hers no doubt. A gris-gris of sorts I would never understand, at least not without the right teacher.
My magic was natural and instinctive, reacting to my environment. My father had poured over books, looking for answers to my unusual abilities to no avail. He said it was old, ancient, and strong. I was unable to stretch my wings in that department with too many hungry eyes looking to cage and devour me. I had to find 'the beast that was my heart,' that was safety, whatever The Beast was. Was it something within myself or was it someone or something else, I didn't know? My father's random bouts of divinity were always vague riddles. So I would go to the bayou. snakes and alligators were less offensive than what I faced here each day.
'Tick, Tick, Tick,' my internal clock was nearing the time of my alarm, the end had come to my duration of inaction and submission to what I was subjected to. I didn't know what lay beyond my escape, that is if I made it out. 'Shut up Bri, you are making it out,' I chided myself. 'You have a job to do.' I will then return with vengeance for my father's death and for the monstrosity my 'mother' intended for me to be involved in.
My boyfriend called, "Baby!" as he jumped out of bed and scrambled to pull his pants off the ground. "Please, I can explain my love." Shutting my eyes, I inhaled deeply and tried not to cry when I realized that my dream of the man not being my boyfriend had been dashed. "What?" I asked, "What do you want to explain?" How did you lie about having a business meeting while you were in bed enjoying yourself with my best friend, even though I told you I was in serious pain, is that it?" I stood there, my heart pounding, and tears streaming down my face...
For as long as Emily can remember, she has wanted to overcome her shyness and explore her sexuality. Still, everything changes when she receives an invitation to visit one of the town's most prestigious BDSM clubs, DESIRE'S DEN. On the day she chose to peruse the club, she noticed three men, all dressed in suits, standing on the upper level, near the railing. Despite her limited vision, she persisted in fixating on them. Their towering statues belied the toned bodies concealed by their sharply tailored suits-or so she could tell. The hair of two of them was short and dark, and the third had light brown-possibly blond-hair that reached the shoulders. The dark, crimson background incised their figures, exuding an air of mystery and strength. They stood in stark contrast to the unfiltered, primal energy that pulsed through the club. Shocked by the desires these men aroused in her, she was disappointed to learn that they were masters seeking a slave to divide and conquer. She couldn't afford the fee, and she also realized that they were outside her league. Emily hurriedly left the club, feeling disappointed and depressed, unaware that she had also caught the group's attention. A world of wicked pleasure, three handsome men. Over the years, they have lived a life of decadence, their lavish lair serving as a stage for their most sinister desires. But despite the unending parade of willing subjects, one woman sticks out. A mysterious stranger with white porcelain skin and a killer body, a slave, a name with no address, the first lady to attract their eye and they will go to any length to obtain her no matter the consequences.
After two years of marriage, Sadie was finally pregnant. Filled with hope and joy, she was blindsided when Noah asked for a divorce. During a failed attempt on her life, Sadie found herself lying in a pool of blood, desperately calling Noah to ask him to save her and the baby. But her calls went unanswered. Shattered by his betrayal, she left the country. Time passed, and Sadie was about to be wed for a second time. Noah appeared in a frenzy and fell to his knees. "How dare you marry someone else after bearing my child?"
Allison fell in love with Ethan Iversen, the soon-to-be Alpha of the Moonlight Crown pack. She always wanted him to notice her. Meanwhile, Ethan was an arrogant Alpha who thought a weak Omega could not be his companion. Ethan's cousin, Ryan Iversen, who came back from abroad and was the actual heir of the pack, never tried to get the position nor did he show any interest in it. He was a popular playboy Alpha but when he came back to the pack, one thing captured his eyes and that was Allison.
22-year-old Evelyn Carter is attempting to start over in California while avoiding her past. She will be embarking on a new career path as a private school teacher. She is smart, attractive, and doesn't put up with nonsense. Who wouldn't notice her? However, what happens when she attracts the attention of someone unwilling to let her go? Who wants her and nothing else after falling in love at first sight? A 25-year-old billionaire CEO and single father, Lucian Carrington. He takes what he wants and he is also a very dangerous man. All it needed was one look at a stunning woman to realize she was HIS, even though he doesn't believe in relationships because they always end. Preview: Miss Carter, you will be mine. I say firmly. "Release my arm, Mr. Carrington, before I force you to." She says, seeming to smile at me. I give her a sly smile. Squeezing my wrist with her other hand, she twists it uncomfortably. I gave a painful hiss. "Don't underestimate me, Mr. Carrington." "This is the only time I will allow you to walk away from me, Miss Carter." She glared at me as she turned. "Mr. Carrington, I am no possession of yours." I was left standing there when she opened the classroom door and left.
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."