Dannesya brings you a thrilling romance tale of human girl x Lucifer. Read free sample of Book 2 below!

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TW: 21++, SA

Chapter 19

Ruby was small when she approached her mother that night. Fourteen years had carved themselves into brittle bones that seemed too fragile to hold the weight of what she carried. 

The hallway stretched before her like a tunnel with no end, each step toward the living room a battle against the instinct to turn and run.

She shook—not from cold, though the house was always cold, but from something worse. Something that lived under her skin now, coiled and waiting. Her voice, when it finally came, emerged thin and fractured. Barely there.

"Mom, he—he came into my room again."

The words hung in the air between them. Ruby watched her mother's profile, silhouetted against the flickering blue light of the television. Waited for her to turn. Waited for her to stand. Waited for arms to reach out and pull her close and say the words every child needs to hear: 

I believe you. I'll protect you. This isn't your fault.

The mother didn't move. Didn't even turn her head. Just stared at the screen with eyes like dirty ice—clouded and impenetrable.

"It's your fault."

Each word dropped heavy. Cold. Final. Like stones thrown into a well too deep to hear them hit bottom.

Ruby's breath caught somewhere in her throat, sharp and painful. Her fingers twisted together until the knuckles went white, nails digging crescents into her palms. The pain was something concrete. Something real to hold onto.

"Your attitude is wrong," the mother continued, her voice staying flat. Clinical. As if she were reading from a diagnosis she'd made long ago. "Your clothes are too tight. The way you stand—it's too open. Too inviting."

She turned then, finally, and her eyes swept over Ruby's body with something that looked like assessment. Clinical and cold. She gestured vaguely at Ruby's figure. At her youth. At her face. At everything Ruby had no control over.

"You're pretty, and young. That's the problem." The words came out bitter, twisted. "You made him do it."

Ruby felt something crack inside her chest. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a quiet snap, like ice breaking under weight. Like the sound a bone makes when it finally gives up.

The mother's eyes lingered on Ruby's black hair, thick and glossy in the lamplight. On her smooth skin, unmarked by time. On her face, which still held the softness of childhood even as it was being carved into something harder. Her lips pressed into a hard line, bloodless but thick.

The look wasn't just blame. It was hunger. Bitter, twisted hunger dressed up as righteousness. She hated Ruby's youth with a ferociousness that made the air feel dangerous. 

Hated that Ruby was fifteen and she was forty-three, with lines deepening around her mouth and eyes that had grown dull. 

Hated that men looked at Ruby now instead of her. Hated that she could see her own obsolescence reflected in her daughter's face. The jealousy wore a mask of morality, but it was transparent. Ruby could see through it, even at fourteen, even with her world crumbling.

Ruby stood frozen, her voice dying in her throat. All the words she'd rehearsed—the pleas, the explanations, the desperate bargaining—evaporated like water on hot stone.

"Get out of my sight," the mother said, turning back to the television. The dismissal was absolute.

Ruby left. The gravity itself had intensified. She walked back to her room on legs that didn't feel like her own. Locked the door with shaking hands, knowing the lock was meaningless. It had never stopped him before.

She sat on the floor with her back pressed against the door, knees pulled to her chest. Her hands shook. Her whole body shook with tremors that came from somewhere deep and wouldn't stop. 

She wrapped her arms around herself and pressed her face against her knees, trying to make herself smaller. Small enough to disappear. Small enough to not exist.

Outside, she heard her mother turn the TV volume higher. Drowning everything out. Drowning Ruby out. The canned laughter from a sitcom echoed through the thin walls, grotesque and inappropriate.

Ruby sat there until the shaking subsided to trembling, and the trembling subsided to numbness. 

She learned to live in that numbness. It was safer than feeling.

Ruby learned the truth in pieces over the following year. Fragments overheard and slowly assembled into a picture so ugly she could barely look at it directly.

Overheard phone calls, her mother's voice low and venomous. Hushed arguments late at night that ended with her mother's triumphant laugh. 

Envelopes that arrived every month, fat with cash that her mother counted with careful, greedy fingers.

Her mother made calls. Always to men. Always married. Always rich. Ruby heard the pattern emerge from behind closed doors.

"I'll tell your wife about the love child," her mother would say, voice smooth as poison. "I'll ruin you. Your career. Your marriage. Everything."

And the money came. Every time. Neat stacks of bills that paid for the house, the food, the television that drowned out everything else.

Ruby didn't have one father. She had a rotating list of frightened men who paid to keep secrets buried. Men who'd had affairs with her mother years ago, maybe decades ago. Men who wanted nothing to do with the aftermath.

She was the secret. The leverage. The transaction. The proof of their indiscretion, monetized and weaponized.

Nobody wanted to claim her. Nobody wanted to save her. She was alone in a way that had no bottom, falling through darkness with nothing to catch her.

Chapter 20

At fifteen, Ruby tried to ask for help. Tried to believe that someone, somewhere, would care.

She went to a neighbour first. Mrs. Patterson, who had a kind face and tended roses in her front yard. Ruby waited until she saw her outside, then approached with her sleeves pushed up deliberately. Showed the bruises on her arms. Purple-black fingerprints. Fresh enough that they still hurt to touch.

The woman looked at her. Really looked. And for a moment, Ruby thought she saw recognition there. Understanding. Help.

Then the woman looked away.

"You're that woman's daughter, aren't you?" Her voice had changed, grown careful and distant.

Ruby nodded, hope dying in her chest.

The woman's face closed like a door slamming. "I can't get involved. I'm sorry." But she didn't sound sorry. She sounded relieved to have an excuse.

Ruby tried a teacher next. Mr. Harris, who taught English and sometimes said encouraging things about her essays. She stayed after class, heart pounding, and tried to explain. But the words came out wrong, tangled and desperate, and she saw his face change as he realized who her mother was.

Then a school counselor. Mrs. Elizabeth, who was supposed to help students in crisis. But every time, the same look appeared. The same withdrawal, like watching someone step backward through a door and close it in her face.

Daughter of a woman like that.

They didn't see a victim. They saw a problem. A bad kid from a bad home. Probably lying. Probably exaggerating. Probably deserved whatever she got. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, after all.

No hands reached out. Ruby became invisible in a new way—not ignored, but actively avoided. People looked away when she approached. Conversations stopped when she entered a room.

She stopped trying. Learned to carry it alone.

Ruby saved money for a year. Every coin she found. Every crumpled bill from waitressing shifts after school, working at a diner where the cook yelled and the customers left lousy tips. Her feet ached. Her back ached. But she counted every dollar like it was salvation.

At sixteen, she ran.

Straight to her boyfriend. Jake. Twenty-two years old, with an easy smile and smooth words that had made her feel special. Chosen. He said the right things. You deserve better. I'll take care of you. You're safe with me.

She thought he was safety. She thought he was love. She was so desperate for both that she couldn't see the truth.

He was just a different cage.

He knew she had no father to call. No mother who cared. No one looking for her. No one who would come if she screamed. So he did whatever he wanted.

He gave her pills. Powders. Little white tablets that he said would help her relax, help her forget. Things that made the room tilt and her voice disappear and her body feel like it belonged to someone else. Like she was watching everything happen from very far away.

Her body stopped being hers. It became something he used. Something he shared with his friends. Something that existed for other people's pleasure while she floated somewhere above it all, disconnected and drowning.

She'd traded one hell for another. The locks on this door were tighter. The walls were higher. And this time, she'd walked in willingly.

The shame of that nearly killed her.

She ran again. Barely. More like crawled away while he was gone, moving on legs that felt like rubber.

This time to Social Services. The building was gray and institutional, smelling of disinfectant and despair. The woman behind the desk looked tired. Looked at Ruby like she was paperwork. A file number. Another runaway with a sob story.

"Living with an older boyfriend?" The woman's eyebrow lifted, judgmental and cold. "That's illegal, you know."

Ruby wanted to scream. Wanted to reach across the desk and shake her. He hurt me. He drugged me. He sold me. I need help.

"He—he hurt me. He forced me to—" The words stuck in her throat, too big and ugly to say out loud.

"We'll look into it." The woman was already writing notes, not looking at Ruby anymore. Already moving on to the next case.

They did investigate. Eventually. The boyfriend got six months in county jail. A slap on the wrist for destroying a girl's life.

Ruby got sent home.

Back to the small house with its cold walls and colder inhabitants. Back to her mother's glare, harder now, blaming Ruby for the attention, for the questions from social workers. Back to the man who watched her with dangerous, familiar eyes and now had even more reason to rape her.

The terror clamped down on her chest like a fist, squeezing until she couldn't breathe. Panic attacks came nightly. 

She stopped sleeping. Stopped eating. Became a ghost in her own home.

A Werewolf Romance “The Alpha’s Curse and The Mark that Bounds Us” is out. Read Free Sample of Book 1 here!

                                          

Chapter 1

The room stank of sweat and blood, the air thick enough to choke on. Papers were scattered across the floor, a chair lay overturned in the corner, and I could hear my own ragged breathing. My fists pounded against the wooden door, each blow sending a jolt of pain up my arms.

“Help!” I screamed, desperation cracking my voice. “Is anybody out there? Please!”

A voice answered from the other side, sharp and venomous. “You’re not going anywhere, Selene. Open the door, or I swear, I’ll—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish. My fist slammed against the door again, harder this time. The impact shot through my body, and I staggered back, gasping for air. My eyes darted to the small window in the far wall, my only hope.

I ran to it, fingers fumbling at the rusted latch. It wouldn’t budge. Years of neglect had sealed it shut, but I refused to stop. My hands burned as the metal dug into my skin, the sharp edge slicing into my palm. Blood smeared the frame, but finally, with one last desperate shove, the latch broke free.

“Selene!” his voice roared from behind the door, louder now, filled with venomous satisfaction. He knew I was trapped—or at least he thought so.

The wood began to splinter under his fists, sharp cracks echoing in the suffocating room.

My pulse thundered in my ears as I hauled myself through the narrow opening. The glass bit into my shoulders, tearing my skin. I hissed in pain, but there was no time to stop, no time to care. Blood smeared the sill as I pulled myself free, falling hard onto the frozen ground below.

The cold bit into me immediately, a brutal slap to my senses, but I didn’t slow down. I scrambled to my feet and ran, the icy air burning my lungs.

“Come back here!” his voice bellowed behind me, echoing off the walls of the alley.

I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. My legs pounded against the pavement, the dim lights of the city blurring into streaks of yellow and white as I ran faster. My heart felt like it would explode, the sound of my own pulse drowning out everything else.

The night was freezing, each breath a sharp, stinging reminder that I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever.

……..

Many years later, I sat at the rickety table in my tiny, suffocating apartment, my eyes fixed on the scar running across my hand. It stretched from my palm to my wrist—a thick, crooked line that refused to fade no matter how much time passed. A permanent reminder of the night I lost everything, the night I abandoned who I used to be.  

I rubbed it absently with my thumb, the rough texture of the skin grounding me in memories I didn’t want to revisit. My thoughts drifted far away, to places I hadn’t allowed myself to linger in years.  

“Everything okay?”  

Clara’s voice startled me, pulling me back into the present. I glanced up to see her leaning in the doorway, her hands firmly on her hips. The smell of burnt toast wafted in from her apartment, as it always did.  

“I’m okay,” I said, forcing a small smile to soften the lie.  

“You don’t look okay, though,” Clara shot back, crossing her arms. “When was the last time you slept?”  

I sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m fine, Clara. Just… sorting things out.”  

Her gaze slid past me, landing on the half-packed bag sitting on my bed. The contents barely filled it, yet it felt heavier than anything I’d ever carried.  

“I see,” she said, her voice quieter now. “You’re really going this time, aren’t you?”  

I nodded. “I need a new beginning.”  

Clara frowned, her brows knitting together in confusion. “A new beginning? Where to? Selene, you’ve been running since the day I met you.”  

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit, and my jaw clenched. “It’s not running,” I said through gritted teeth. “It’s living.”  

I expected her to argue—she always did—but this time, she just stood there for a moment, studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. Then, she sighed and stepped back into the corridor.  

“Just… take care of yourself, okay?”  

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I simply got up and shut the door behind her.  

For a moment, I stood there, leaning against the door as though it could hold me up. My eyes closed, and I let out a slow, shaky breath.  

I wasn’t meant to live like this—always looking over my shoulder, staying in one place just long enough to grow restless or afraid, and then packing up to leave again. But whether I wanted it or not, this was my life now.  

Running wasn’t survival. It was existence. Barely. And yet, it was the only existence I had. 

*

The trip out of the city was uneventful, the hum of the car engine and the occasional crackle of the radio my only companions.  

“…several residents reported missing near Blackwood Forest… authorities suspect wild animals…”  

I reached out and switched the radio off, my fingers trembling against the dial. The silence that followed was deafening, but I didn’t want to hear any more. I couldn’t.  

My eyes darted to the rearview mirror, scanning the empty road behind me as if the past might be chasing me, hidden in the shadows. I exhaled a shaky breath, trying to calm the tightness in my chest.  

“You’re okay,” I whispered to myself, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. “Everything is behind you. He’s not there.”  

But the words felt hollow, like a lie I couldn’t even convince myself to believe.  

The road grew darker as towering trees closed in, their canopies weaving a suffocating dusk. The car sputtered, jolting me forward in my seat.  

“No. No, no, no,” I muttered, my eyes darting to the fuel gauge. Empty.  

The engine coughed one last time before giving out completely. I cursed under my breath, steering the powerless car to the side of the road.  

Dropping my head against the steering wheel, I let out a frustrated groan. “Perfect. Just perfect.”  

I fumbled in the glove box for the flashlight, its cold metal handle slippery in my sweaty hand. Stepping out of the car, the chill of the night air hit me like a slap. It seeped through my jacket, biting at my skin.  

The beam of the flashlight was dim, barely cutting through the darkness as I stood on the shoulder of the road. I glanced up at the imposing woods, the shadows within shifting like restless phantoms.  

“Lovely,” I muttered, forcing myself to step forward.  

The quiet was oppressive, the kind of silence that pressed against your ears and made you hyper-aware of every sound. My boots scraped against the gravel, the noise sharp and grating in the stillness.  

A sudden crack of a branch froze me in place. My heart leapt into my throat as I swung the flashlight toward the sound, but its weak beam revealed nothing but shifting shadows.  

“Hello?” I called out, my voice barely louder than a whisper.  

Nothing answered.  

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe. My legs moved faster now, driven by the primal need to get away from whatever might be lurking in the dark.  

Then I saw them—footprints. Massive, clawed impressions in the dirt that didn’t look like they belonged to any animal I’d ever seen. My pulse quickened, fear tightening its grip around my chest.  

Another sound—a low, guttural snarl—rumbled from behind me.  

I spun around, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. “Who’s there?” I shouted, my voice cracking.  

The flashlight flickered, then died, plunging me into complete darkness.  

“No, no, no,” I whimpered, shaking the useless thing in desperation.  

Heavy steps crunched through the underbrush, growing louder, closer. Panic overtook me, and I ran, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps.  

I didn’t see the snare until it was too late.  

The sharp snap of metal teeth clamping around my ankle sent searing pain shooting up my leg. I screamed, collapsing to the ground as tears blurred my vision.  

“Help me! Somebody, please!” I yelled, clawing at the trap with trembling hands. Blood coated my fingers as I struggled, but the metal wouldn’t budge.  

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the silence pressing down on me like a weight. Then it came—a roar so deep and primal it shook the very earth beneath me.  

I froze, my breath hitching.  

Two glowing yellow eyes emerged from the darkness, unblinking and fixed on me. The beast’s heavy, wheezing breaths filled the air, louder than my own frantic heartbeat.  

It stepped closer, its massive shadow swallowing me whole. Its fur was thick and dark, its claws gleaming in the faint moonlight.  

“Stay back!” I screamed, my voice trembling as I held up a hand, though I knew it was useless.  

The creature paused, tilting its head as if it understood me. For a moment, I dared to hope, dared to believe it might leave me alone.  

But then it growled—a low, rumbling sound that sent chills racing down my spine—and took another step forward.  

Tears streamed down my face as my hands worked frantically on the trap, my blood-slick fingers slipping against the cold metal.  

“Please,” I whispered, the word barely audible over the pounding of my heart.  

The beast didn’t move, its piercing eyes locked onto mine.  

For a fleeting second, I thought it might spare me. But then, with deliberate intent, it pushed closer, its breath hot and foul against my skin.  

I was out of time. 

Chapter 2

I stopped dead in my tracks, breath hitching as my eyes locked on those glowing yellow orbs cutting through the darkness. The shadowy creature stepped forward, and as it emerged from the inky blackness, my heart threatened to burst. Its body was massive, covered in thick, dark fur, and its claws gleamed like polished steel under the faint moonlight.

It growled, low and menacing, the sound vibrating in the pit of my stomach and sending a chill down my spine.

“No,” I whispered, barely recognizing my own trembling voice. The beast crept closer, its gaze never breaking from mine.

My hands fumbled for the trap clamped around my ankle, sharp metal teeth biting deep into my skin. The pain was blinding, a relentless throb that had my head spinning.

“Come on, come on!” I hissed at myself, my fingers scrambling desperately in the dirt. They brushed against something solid—a branch. It was rough and splintered, but it would have to do.

I seized it, my hands shaking as I held it up like some pitiful shield.

The beast let out another rumble, a sound that seemed to mock my efforts. Its lips curled back, revealing rows of sharp teeth, and I could see the faint sheen of saliva glistening in the moonlight.

“Stay back!” I shouted, my voice cracking, but it only kept coming, slow and deliberate, savoring my fear.

Then it lunged.

I screamed and swung the branch with every ounce of strength I had.

CRACK!

The wood connected with its side, and the beast stumbled back, letting out a deafening roar that echoed through the trees. My ears rang, but I didn’t stick around to see if it would recover.

Biting down on the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming, I yanked my leg free from the trap. Pain tore through me as the metal ripped at my skin, blood pouring down and soaking my jeans.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

Dragging my injured leg behind me, I crawled, each movement sending fresh waves of agony shooting up my body. My breath came in ragged gasps, and tears blurred my vision, but I kept going.

The sound of the beast’s heavy footsteps sent my heart into overdrive. It was close. Too close.

Then I saw it—a river, its surface glinting faintly under the moonlight.

“There,” I gasped, my voice barely a whisper. I clawed at the ground, forcing my body to move faster even as every muscle screamed in protest.

The growls grew louder, the crunch of its steps closing in.

“Come on, move!” I begged myself, panic clawing at my chest.

When I reached the riverbank, I twisted around just as the beast pounced again. With a wild cry, I swung the branch, missing its snapping jaws by a hair.

Its claws raked the ground where I’d been moments before, and it snarled in frustration.

Without thinking, I turned and threw myself into the water.

The cold was like a slap to the face, stealing the breath from my lungs as the current dragged me under. I thrashed, fighting to keep my head above the surface, but the icy water was relentless.

The beast roared from the riverbank, pacing and swiping at the water, but it didn’t follow me in. Relief flooded me, but it was short-lived.

The current was stronger than I’d anticipated, pulling me under and tossing me like a rag doll. Water filled my lungs as I choked and gasped, struggling to resurface.

“Help!” I screamed, though I knew no one could hear me.

Rocks slammed into me, each one sending fresh bursts of pain through my battered body. My injured leg felt like it was on fire, and the cold was seeping into my bones, sapping what little strength I had left.

Finally, the current slowed, and I was spat out onto a muddy bank. I collapsed there, gasping for air, my body trembling violently from the cold and the pain.

I tried to sit up, but my strength was gone. The world spun around me, and darkness started creeping in at the edges of my vision.

I lay back against the mud, chest heaving, the forest spinning above me. My last thought before everything faded was simple and despairing.

I’m not safe yet.

“Is she alive?”  

The voice reached me like a whisper carried on the wind, muffled and distant, barely cutting through the roar of the river still pounding in my ears.  

“Barely. Look at her leg—it’s a mess.”  

I forced my eyes open, the effort draining what little strength I had left. The world above me was a blur, dark shapes moving against a canvas of endless night.  

“We can’t leave her here,” another voice said, softer than the first but tinged with hesitation.  

“She’s trouble,” the first voice shot back, sharp and annoyed. “We don’t need more problems.”  

Trouble? They were talking about me. My head lolled to the side, and I caught a glimpse of boots stepping closer.  

“She’s hurt,” the softer voice insisted, pleading now. “If we leave her, she’ll die.”  

I tried to speak, to tell them I wasn’t trouble, to ask for help, but nothing came out. My throat felt raw, my body too weak to obey even the simplest commands.  

“She might’ve seen it,” the first voice muttered, low and cautious.  

Seen it? My sluggish thoughts tried to piece together what they meant. The beast—they were talking about the beast.  

“Even more reason to take her,” the softer voice argued. “If she saw it, we can’t risk her talking.”  

There was a long pause, the air thick with tension.  

“Fine,” the first voice finally relented, though there was no kindness in it. “But if she causes any trouble—”  

“She won’t,” the softer one interrupted, firm but gentle.  

A shadow loomed over me, and I felt strong arms slide under my battered body. Warmth enveloped me as I was lifted from the cold, wet ground, cradled against a solid chest.  

Through the haze, I heard the soft voice again, this time closer, laced with quiet concern.  

“Hang on, stranger. You’re safe now… for a little while.”  

The words followed me into the darkness as I let it take me, too weak to resist.

*