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Her Life Her Wolf

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Blurb

Corrine is raised in America. Believing herself to be an outcast, unwanted and unloved, she simply wishes for her freedom. What will happen as she enters the world beyond her childhood door? will she ever discover who she truly is? will she ever find someone who sees the real her?

Jeremiah has spent his life training to be the leader he was meant to be, respected by his pack, feared by his enemies. The only thing missing is his one true mate. Will he accept his missing piece, or will all of their differences tear them apart?

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Chapter 1
The hallway was dark, and I listened to the sounds of my parents sleeping. Slowly, carefully, I picked my way down the hall, pausing at any slight sound. The seconds passed as I crept towards the stairwell. “Come on, Corinne, you can do it. Let's go, just one foot in front of the other,” I thought. Gripping the straps of my bags with renewed determination, I stealthily approached the staircase and silently opened the door. Closing the door behind me with a barely audible click, I waited. Hearing no movement, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I descended the stairs as quietly as possible, my sneakers padding on the carpet, and left the house. Running to my car, I threw my bags in the passenger seat and started the engine. Adrenaline racing, and my heart pounding, I left the driveway, glancing once in the rearview mirror at my childhood home before turning on my headlights and driving away. I drew in a shaky breath and composed myself. It hadn’t always been this way. When they adopted me, Deana and Willard were loving, doting parents. It all changed after Deana got pregnant, and they had my brother, Darnell. At first, it was minor insults, but the abuse escalated as the years passed. I was treated like a house servant, often starved and beaten when they felt I wasn’t doing my part. I had suffered silently for years, trying to make myself invisible. It all finally blew up yesterday when I turned 18. We argued for weeks before my birthday, them insisting we had to have a party and me insisting I did not want one. I didn’t see the point to it. I didn’t really have any friends and wanted to be alone. Every birthday since I was ten ended in an argument about how I was ungrateful, spoiled, and wasted their time and efforts. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that they threw a party anyway, which had again devolved into an argument. This year, the fight happened in front of the guests: a collection of wealthy acquaintances from high school and work colleagues. As soon as the argument occurred and people began to leave, I knew I would have the worst punishment. The beating was almost instant to the last guest leaving. Willard yelled about how I was constantly provoking my mother. At the same time, Deana slammed my head into the floor repeatedly as she choked me. But what finally broke me was Willard pinning my body and making me watch as Deana burned my adoption papers in the fireplace. It was the only record of who my birth family was, and I had never seen it. It was promised to me at 18, but they destroyed it and every chance I had of finding out my origins. It was why I fled in the night while they slept. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I wiped it away. I knew for years I needed to get away from Deana and Willard, and I had planned my leave since I was 16. I’d even opened a secret bank account and hidden cash. I saved every dime from any work I did, waiting until I was old enough to finally leave. Even though they treated me like garbage Deana and Willard had made it abundantly clear I was never allowed to leave. “They probably just wanted to keep the servant and punching bag,” I thought bitterly. It certainly wasn’t out of love. Shaking myself from these spiraling thoughts, I continued to drive towards the city. I’d never lived in one before, but I thought the bustle and people could be enjoyable. I also figured it was easier to disappear. I arrived in the city at about 3am. Exhausted from the stress and adrenaline crash, I went to a Holiday Inn. I looked around while the front desk person, a chipper girl named Amie, and her manager Arlon booked my two-night stay and printed my key. My room was on the 5th floor, and I requested no one to share my room number or answer any inquiries about me if someone called and headed to the elevator. Once in my room, I hung the do not disturb sign on the door, checked the locks, and closed the curtains. Snagging a nightgown from my duffel bag, I quickly changed my clothes and fell into the queen-sized bed. Within moments, I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Hours later, I was startled awake, disoriented, and with a massive headache. All the previous day’s events came flooding back to me, and I remembered I was in a hotel room in the city. I groaned and stretched, my throat parched and my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I was also still dirty, having been too exhausted to shower when I got here. I swung my legs over the bed's side and went to the bathroom. Filling a plastic cup in the sink, I drank deeply and looked in the mirror. “OMG,” I said out loud, taking in my appearance. My hair was matted and sticking up all over the place, I had scratches on my face, and my arms, neck, and chest were dappled with multiple bruises. I had dried blood on my triceps from Deana digging her fingernails into my skin and a massive bruise on my thigh from when Willard pinned me down. Sighing, I turned on the shower as hot as possible and stepped in to scrub away the blood and memories as best as possible. Once I was clean, I stepped out and wrapped myself in a large fluffy towel. Grabbing a second towel, I began drying my long curly red hair. I kept it in a tight bun since Deana cut it short whenever it was loose, chopping into it and leaving me with an uneven, jagged mess. “If you can’t be responsible enough to style your hair, you aren’t responsible enough to grow it out,” she’d say as she cut and cut, ignoring my pleas for her to stop. As I got older, I realized that these outbursts seemed to come shortly after someone would pay me a compliment. I guess any nice words about me were a call for punishment. Letting it fall down my back to dry some more, I got my duffel bag and grabbed some clean clothes for the day. I chose an Emerald Green maxi dress with a lightweight black cardigan and a pair of gladiator sandals. It was too hot for long sleeves, but I preferred not to show off too much skin. Besides, I wanted to cover up as many bruises as possible without looking suspicious. I knew that the night had gotten out of hand because Deana and Willard had never left bruises where they showed before. Usually, it was my thighs and back and around my ribcage. Sighing, I got dressed and pulled out my laptop. I was going to buy a cell phone, stop by some rental offices, and try to find a place to live today. I quickly jotted down the name of the first leasing office that appeared in my search: RG Property Management. I grabbed my purse and my keys and headed to the elevator. Just as the elevator door was closing, a hand appeared, and the doors opened again. I was face to face with one of the most attractive men I had ever seen. His brown hair was smoothly coiffed into an intentionally messy state. His well-chiseled face sported a scruffy five o’clock shadow, and his lips were in a smirk, revealing one dimple. “Room for one more?” he asked in a deep, commanding voice. I looked around at the empty elevator and said, “Provided you don’t exceed the maximum weight limit on your own, I think you’ll fit.” He laughed, a deep rumble in his chest, and stepped onto the elevator. “Headed to meet your boyfriend?” he said as we rode down to the lobby. I glanced at him, utterly disinterested in being trapped in an enclosed space with a flirtatious stranger. “No,” I answered curtly, “I was headed to meet my breakfast and then meet my boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes and focused on the elevator door until it finally opened in the lobby. Turning towards the conference room, I surveyed the continental breakfast options. Grabbing a yogurt, banana, and a cup of coffee, I sat at a table away from the crowd and began eating. A moment later, that same man from the elevator sat at my table, holding a pen and a pad of paper. Annoyed by the sudden intrusion, I looked around at other available tables when he said, “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for my comments in the elevator. I’m in town on business and have been here for a week, bored out of my mind. When I saw a pretty lady, I couldn’t help myself,” he explained. I nodded my head once in acknowledgment and continued eating. He slid a piece of paper across the table. “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’d like to make it up to you by buying you dinner. My number is on the paper, call me. I think you’re interesting, and it could be fun.” Regardless of his attractiveness, I had zero interest in dinner with this man. Everything about his attitude reminded me of a taker. I’d had enough takers to last me a lifetime. I met his gaze and simply said, “noted.” He nodded and left. I grabbed the paper, threw out my trash, and headed for my car. Hopefully, I wouldn’t run into him anymore. I drove to a shopping center I saw last night and headed for the cell store. I picked out a brand-new Samsung Galaxy phone and a case covered in butterflies and vibrant red wildflowers. I left the store about 20 minutes later, activated phone in hand, and typed the leasing office into the navigation system. "Here goes nothing," I said as I parked in front of a clean, modern-looking building. The walls were all mirrored glass, and the placard across the doors read RG Property Management in bold black. Taking a deep breath, I hurried across the parking lot and entered the front door. Cool air and gentle music greeted me. "Hello, and welcome to RG Property Management. How may I help you?" a cheerful voice called from my right. I turned to see a striking woman, about 5'3" inches tall coming toward me. Her black hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her golden skin seemed to sparkle, even indoors. She held her hand and announced, "I'm Stephanie, the property manager, and you are?" I shook her hand and said, "Hi, Stephanie, I'm Corinne. I was hoping to speak with someone about available rentals?" Stephanie glanced at my bruises but kept a smile on her face. "Of course, Corinne, right this way!" Ushering me into her office, she sat at the desk and began typing into her computer. Nervous, I blurted out, "I am looking for an apartment just for me. It doesn't have to be big or anything. I turned eighteen yesterday. This is my first place since leaving home. I already have a new job lined up here in the city at the animal shelter, and I can pay the first and last month up front and the deposit. My main priority is moving in as soon as possible, and hopefully, the rent doesn't exceed 800 dollars a month." I took a breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my nerves. Stephanie smiled at me. "A little nervous, huh?" she asked. I nodded my head. Leaning in, she said quietly, "You don't have to answer this, but did your parents do this to you? I can see your injuries and want to ensure you're safe." I looked into her eyes and nodded as traitor tears escaped my eyes and fell on my lap. "Please don't tell anyone," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I fled last night and am staying at a hotel now. I understand if you don't have any rentals, and I'll be on my way." I stared at my lap until I heard her say, "Hmm, you know, I think I actually have a property that would be perfect for you. It's not a rental through our company, but my husband and I own some cottages next to a nature reserve that we also own. Usually, those cottages are just for guests or some of the sanctuary workers that would rather live off-campus. The rent is 650.00 a month, all utilities included, and you'd just pay us as a private landlord instead of the rental company. Would you like to see the cottage?" she asked soothingly. I wiped my tears and nodded, “I would very much like to see it, please.” With a radiant smile, she clapped her hands and said, “Perfect! Let’s go!” I followed behind Stephanie’s black Lexus until she pulled into a driveway. I parked behind her and gazed at the most enchanting cottage I’d ever seen. Wildflowers in various colors gently swayed in the summer breeze, accented by a plush creeping sedum blanketed around stepping stones. The house was made of pale blue wood siding, with a covered porch and a porch swing. The windows looked airy, with stained glass accents at their tops in purple, midnight, and white. If the inside matched the outside, I could live here forever. Stephanie unlocked the front door and gave me a tour of the interior. The house was already furnished and as beautiful as the outside. It even had a small office I could convert into my craft room. The gourmet kitchen came with all the appliances I would ever need, a restaurant-grade sink, and a garbage disposal. There was a finished basement with a state-of-the-art laundry room and a fireplace on each floor. In all my days, I never imagined I would live in a place as lovely as this. I turned to Stephanie and said, “It’s perfect. I love it.” She smiled at me and said, “I just knew this place was right for you. I’ll let my husband know this evening, and we can meet back here tomorrow and sign the papers.” I walked toward her and held out my hand. “Thank you so much,” I said, tears filling my eyes. Grabbing my hand, she pulled me into a hug. “No need to thank me, sweetie. You’re safe now, and we will help do everything we can to keep you safe.” I stiffened out of reflex, unaccustomed to being touched without a consequence. After a moment, I relaxed and hugged her back. I was so happy that I’d found such a kind person. We said our goodbyes and I headed back to my hotel, a weight lifted off of my shoulders. I pulled up to the Holiday Inn and headed towards the main entrance. Looking through the glass doors, I stopped in my tracks, and my blood ran cold. Deana and Willard were at the front desk, arguing with the clerk. I didn’t know what to do. My body and my brain would not cooperate. I wanted to run, scream, and fight back, yet I stood there paralyzed with fear. What are they doing here? How did they find me? WHY did they find me? All these questions circled in my head, and I started to get angry. Taking in a huge gulp of air, I squared my shoulders and walked into the lobby to confront them. One way or another, this ended today. As I walked through the doors, Deana turned and looked at me. “There she is!” she exclaimed, marking toward me, her rage palpable. She reached forward to grab me, and I slapped her hand away. “You do not have permission to touch me,” I said, keeping my voice as even as possible. “Permission?” Deana scoffed. “You are mine. I do not need your permission to do anything.” Deana reached for me again, and I stepped back and shouted, “I am telling you for the last time you do not have permission to touch me. Do. Not. Touch. Me.” Willard stood next to Deana, with his hand on her shoulder. “Corinne, quiet down. You’re causing a scene.” I laughed bitterly. “I’m causing a scene? Oh please. You two beat me until I was unconscious less than 24 hours ago.” I took off my cardigan, revealing all the bruises, scratches, and injuries I had received. “YOU,” I said, pointing at Deana, “are the cause of these injuries.” I heard an audible gasp from bystanders in the lobby. “AND YOU,” I said, pointing at Willard, “not only blamed me, but you also participated.” Lifting up my dress, I revealed the injuries on my legs. “You are personally responsible for these.” Letting my dress drop again, I pointed at them and said, “You do not have permission to be in my life. I am an adult, and you do not own me. I do not belong to you. I never did. You’d best go get in your car, drive home, and never contact me again.” I heard police sirens approaching the hotel as Willard grabbed Deana's hand and began pulling her towards the exit. Deana seethed, a look of pure hatred in her eyes as she said, "This isn't over, Corinne. We will be speaking again soon," as she stomped towards the exit, out of the hotel. As my adrenaline finally waned, I felt my legs were made of rubber. I shakily walked to the lobby seating and put my cardigan back on. After an exhaustive interview with the police officers that responded to the scene, I declined medical treatment. I did allow the officer to photograph my neck and arms as evidence of abuse. Although I didn’t want to press charges and have to take Deana and Willard into my future, I did acknowledge that I was in danger. The police officer advised that he was putting in a request for an emergency protective order and that he strongly recommended I follow up with a long-term Order of Protection. I nodded numbly and thanked them for their help. I took his business card and promised to call if Deana or Willard attempted to contact me again. I headed to my room and lay across the bed, crying into my pillow until I fell asleep.

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