Rose Diamond: Roland by Issac Brooks

A man who’s lost everything makes a devilish deal for a ring that grants him three wishes—and soon finds out that getting what you want can be worse than losing what you had.

A man who’s lost everything makes a devilish deal for a ring that grants him three wishes—and soon finds out that getting what you want can be worse than losing what you had.
She retrieved the sponge and began washing my furry arms. She felt like she was attempting to scrub my fur off. That’s a weird sentence I never thought I would say. I have fur. Let’s just staple that to the list of things I need to accept as my new normal.
She accomplished her goal of getting the mud off of me. The bathwater was so full of dirt, blood and whatever else was on me that it had thickened. Nora pulled me out of the bath and drained the tub. There was a small tube at the bottom that ran into the floor. She pulled a handle connected to that small pipe, and the water slowly drained.
I looked at myself now that I was a lot less covered in mud and blood. Gray fur. I’m a little girl, and I have gray fur. I guess since I likely have some canine traits, gray is a normal color for wolves. Unfortunately, after looking at myself, I could see that we weren’t done with my bath. I stood still, examining myself while soaking wet and creating a puddle at my feet. Nora cleaned most of my fur, but my tail and legs still need work. I wonder what color the hair on my head is. Is it the same as my fur? I pulled some in front of my eyes to see that it was the same color as my fur.

You’re goddamn right I mean business. I’m over two hundred years old, so my days of enduring narcissistic, lying, cheating assholes are over. Did I overreact by destroying an entire township in Jersey? Maybe, but sometimes you have to weigh consequences against comeuppance and scorch some earth. Sue me. I occasionally get a little stormy when someone rubs me the wrong way, but cheat on me, and you’re gonna catch my claws. Fortunately for others, that didn’t happen often. My heart wasn’t as black as my long, straight hair or as pale as my alabaster skin, but I could be hard and unforgiving when it came to infidelity. I’m working on it.
Naturally, my shenanigans meant they would be coming for me, but it’s okay; the just desserts were worth the calories. Besides, I’m finally ready to face them; it was long past due anyway- but that’s a story for a little later.
I’m not the least bit ashamed to say I was deeply in love with a miserable phony prick for four years (a blink of an eye for me) or that I had recently agreed to marry said miserable phony prick a few days ago. When people are profoundly disingenuous about who they are, one can’t be blamed for trusting them. I wear my heart on my sleeve; being powerful and ageless allows me to be vulnerable in ways others can not. However, the downside is that you tend to go to extremes when someone fucks you over.
Morristown, New Jersey? Collateral damage. Honestly, it was worth it. There’s little left in the world that commands my full and total rage, and unfaithfulness is one of them. Not to mention, in all my years, I’ve known only one thing sweeter than love, and that’s revenge.

The lasses of the Rivenloch clan are Scottish warrior maids, born to the blade…Firstborn Deirdre of Rivenloch never shies away from a fight, even against overbold men who consider her a prize. But she’s never met a man quite like Pagan Cameliard, the fierce knight commanded to wed into her clan, and when she marries him to save her sister, she soon finds she’s losing the battle over her heart.
“Sir, do you accept my challenge or not?”
“Since you won’t engage me in our bed, my lady, I suppose engaging me in the tiltyard is a reasonable alternative.” He held her gaze and slid his sword from its sheath with suggestive languor.
Deirdre swallowed hard. The man was incorrigible. Even on the field of battle, he attempted to seduce her. And God help her, it was having some effect. His eyes burned into hers with the smoldering promise of pleasure. And his mouth, set in that self-assured grin…she remembered too well how it felt upon hers, warm and sweet and demanding.
Nay! She wouldn’t think of that. She had to fight him.
Moreover, this time she had to win.
“Mutiny, eh?” said {M}. “Just one moment, before you go and do something irreversibly stupid …” he added, walking briskly to the junk drawer. He threw it open. There were rubber bands abounding, and an absolute mess of earbud headphones, many that only specifically worked on a specific airline, for the specifically-sized plane that used them. They had specifically tied themselves to each other for all time. There was loose change, half a dozen takeout menus, and a subway map. And then, there was what {M} needed at the moment. He smiled at it.
{M} pulled a massive handgun out of the junk drawer and laid it on the counter. The isterlings all jumped at the sound of it. It was a laser gun, the kind that someone like Captain Dan Solo would carry on his hip. He slammed the door shut and picked up the blaster.
“Scallywagger enough for you, dickwads?” He pointed the weapon at the crate. “Okay, proceed with the friggin’ shenanigans.”