While Monday came to an early start, I’m glad to be back at school. It’s the one constant I have in my life that remains predictable. The squad still keeping me busy.
The jocks , back to practicing for the national competition.
Reagan still his recently moody self. Christopher still my best friend who never shuts up.
Well, except for Sabastian, who is surprisingly avoiding me like the plague since I arrived at school two hours back. I didn’t know why.
Something is wrong with him. I am going to get to the bottom of it as soon as I speak to Reagan.
My weekend with Kylie didn’t pan out the way it was supposed to. I ended up spending most of my time with Mason, Kylie’s brother and while we never really got along , this weekend we got along quite well. I didn’t know whether it was because he was my babysitter. OR did he genuinely like me but I was glad to have the company. It was better than just staying at Kylie’s house doing nothing.
Kylie up and left, ‘apparently’ she had an emergency. But the weekend turned out pretty good until my return yesterday evening.
When Mason and I arrived home late last night, Jace was more than happy to inform us that Reagan and Sabastian had a fight. By this morning when I arrived at school it was all over the school.
While this wasn’t the most surprising thing, I can’t say that I am not hurt.
Comments and suggestions can be emailed to email@example.com.
“Sweet thang, I thought it was you.” Storm’s voice has me spinning so
fast I almost tumble and fall. Instead of falling and tumbling to the hard
ground and damaging my new dress and perfect skin, Vincent grabs my
arm, pulling me into his chest.
“This conversation is far from over Kylie, you and I are not done.” His
whispered words are heard clearly in my ear before he gives me a gentle
Just as I right myself, Storm’s arm is wrapped around my waist.
“Miss me Sweet girl.” His words aren’t just a question to me but a statement and warning to Vincent.
Storm is territorial, he is claiming me like the biker he is. I think it is sweet, cute but really unnecessary.
It is Christmas and I don’t want to ruin anyone’s mood so I let it slide
and walk with Storm to the bonfire ignoring the man with the face that
owns my soul staring daggers into my head.
“Thought you haven’t seen the guy in a while.” Storm points out as his fingers flex around my waist.
“I didn’t, guess he decided to show up for Christmas this year, past him as I was leaving.”
He chuckles, “When I sent the invite didn’t think you would show.”
“Gotta keep a man on his feet if he wants you in his bed.” I drawl, knowing he likes it when I do that.
He shakes his head with a big grin to his face, “Does that said man get a kiss.”
I stop walking. We are on the corner of the farm house, the bonfire just on the hill with at least forty bikers. I hear their lively shouts and curses and howling laughs.
I look at Storm, slip my backpack off my shoulder and shove it in to his chest.
Storm laughs and I admit the guy has a really good laugh, who knew a biker could be so darn cute with dimples. More so today, I can see he is glad I made it, and I admit I am glad I came too. Though my reasons are very different. It is refreshing that tonight I, Kylie Bray have a man who is happy to see me. Even if it isn’t the one I want.
I move to carry on with our trek, he stops me by grabbing my arm in a gentle yet firm caress, his eyes serious as he looks at me under the
Storm drops my bag, pulls me by my arm until I am plastered to his body, capturing my chin between his roughened fingers.
I tilt my head, staring at him, I don’t think a thought and neither does he as our mouths meet in a languid dual of star crossed lovers. His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and we kiss for the first time like we are more than just us.
Storm takes my mouth like I am his, and I don’t stop him. I don’t even allow myself an opportunity to come to my senses and slow things down.
I kiss Storm like we could have something, I kiss him with a false sense of hope.
That night was the night I would say Storm moved himself into my life.
It was on that day on the corner of the Satan Snipers clubhouse, under bright lights and watching eyes of a man that I didn’t know was watching
did the Satan Sniper’s vice president and I start our story.
I’m not going to say that it didn’t end well, I am not going to say that It wasn’t my fault he turned out the way he did.
Truth is, we are all pro choice, but sometimes our choices become duty,
sometimes those duties have consequences that alter so many peoples paths. Changes so many lives. Sometimes our choices are not our own, they are the outcome of peoples actions.
A few years back I started Kylie Bray. It was just a basic story about a girl in love with her billionaire brother.
The story was bland and I quickly got bored of it and continued to write the sequel to House of Legions.
After I published Beggar I started the blog of Liston Hills (school me) and I needed more characters. Then came in Kylie Bray and her siblings.
Once I brought her in, my obsession for the familia came to play then one thing led to another and before I even understood it myself I was writing three different series that all linked to each other because of one girl ‘Kylie Bray’. Her story kept bugging me, and I wrote it up in stages. On and off until I completed it a month back.
She is and will always be a character I can relate too as well as many women and men who have experienced unrequited love.
Below is a small piece of Kylie Bray 😊😁
People look at me and see a monster. They look at me and see a killer but no body knows I am so much worse.
I was once Kylie Bray , billionaire heiress, a Southern belle until Mafia boss Vincent Stone walked back into my life.
He was my obsession, I was addicted to his darkness and instead of nurturing it , he used it as the worst form of torture.
I knew Vincent was a bad person , but I never knew how bad he really was until I was already too deep, lost to the maze of obsession.
I couldn’t find my way out no matter how hard I tried.
He tainted me, marked me as his knowing that he would never be mine.
You see , Vincent Stone wasn’t just my stepbrother. He was a made man and I was his muse