THE LYCAN'S GOLD DIGGER WIFE

y's

t to hunt for a m

club, a steady rhythm of deep s

ts dance about, di

my heels, shine some

at a clearance sale, and my golden anklet g

es around my shoulders, f

this, looking good is everything, espe

nervous. I'm never n

a living: captivated

never

rowd, careful not to

some drunk thinking my pr

ter with rows of expensive liquor lined up, an

gh, remembering my mother's

worse. You spread your legs to survive, an

on in the tiny, cracked mirror as I applied my eyelin

alk around like you're someone, but yo

om smudging my mascara. Her words shouldn't hurt anymor

k on this bed as a sickling; you're also the

entually got bedridden. Father had overworked hi

d digger with no high school cert

no matter how many tim

gnoring her curses, and lean

pillows. Her eyes, though, were still full o

way, my eyes bri

a deep breath, shaking off the

the suffocating wa

searching for a prince to

expensive suits whispering into the ears of women who pretend t

us

shoulders, a standard suit, and shoes that att

class,

rth my

a gold digger. They

myself an oppor

opportunity is for rich and stupid men wh

s sur

m tells me there's no o

ion as I massage my temples, wi

ut of here empty-handed, rent is go

ith the mother's new,

ready to try my luck elsewhe

the farthest co

flashing lights and

ke a second skin, but it does

g energy that makes hi

athing for

bout him scr

rich...

n't need to be flaunted beca

l, tells me he's used to people comi

geous- drop-

t crafting him. His dark hair blends into the shadows, and he re

as finall

straps of my dress before runni

p gloss, a push of

se

with each step I take. The club fades arou

favourite game

y leave me; I can'

st the polished surface, offering him my best flirtatious

s me, a frown settles in on his handsome fea

ilting my head slightly and pouti

stretches

mirk tugs at the

. It sends a shiver down my spine. "Are you l

nkle, sending foreign

w this was going to be