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I'm 43. My bloods came back "normal." I haven't felt normal since my second COVID infection in 2024. My GP asked if I'd tried meditation. Most long COVID advice misses the actual problem. They tell you to pace, push through, or try another antidepressant. They miss what the virus did inside your cells. When SARS-CoV-2 infected you, an enzyme called PARP1 went into overdrive trying to fight it. PARP1 burns NAD+ as fuel. The virus left. PARP1 kept burning. Your cells are running on empty. Reviva™ supports the NAD+ salvage pathway from four entry points — so your mitochondria can make energy again. A 2025 Mass General trial (n=58) showed NAD+ levels rose 2.6 to 3.1 times within 5 to 10 weeks of supplementation. Researchers reported within-group improvements in fatigue, sleep and mood, and called for larger trials. Sarah, 41, from Manchester had been housebound 4 days a week. Couldn't climb her own stairs without her pulse hitting 130. She'd tried NR. Tried NMN. Tried CoQ10. Spent £900 on supplements that did nothing. After 2 weeks on Reviva™: she walked her daughter to the bus stop and didn't crash. After 4 weeks: a full workday plus cooking dinner. No nap. Her 11-year-old looked up at breakfast and said, "You're the normal mum again." You weren't wrong to try NR, NMN or a functional medicine protocol. The precursor pathway that converts them into NAD+ is the same pathway the virus broke. Reviva™ supports that pathway from multiple angles at once. With Reviva™ you get: ✅ NAD+ salvage support across 4 coordinated entry points ✅ Trans-Resveratrol (250mg) to activate SIRT1 — so restored NAD+ actually gets used ✅ TMG (100mg) for methylation support most NAD+ formulas miss Standard bloodwork measures what's in your blood — not what's missing inside your cells. NAD+ depletion doesn't show up on a CBC. Today only — the first 100 readers from Facebook get our biggest discount of the year. Reviva™ isn't sold on Amazon or in Boots. Direct only. Backed by our 90-day money-back guarantee. If your partner, your walking group or your child doesn't notice the difference — send it back. No questions. 👉 Tap below to learn more https://www.zifanna.com/UK/reviva
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Struggling with the upfront cost of custom packaging? With Coffee Bag Collective, you can upgrade to fully printed, eco-friendly coffee bags without tying up your cash. Spread the cost with flexible payment options, including 0% interest over 3 months, so you can improve your packaging now and pay over time. We make it simple with low minimum orders, free design support, and a process built for growing coffee brands. Apply today to claim your free design and sample pack.
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Un aperçu du voyage à Toulouse où les US débarquent le temps d'un week-end ! En 2026, le MEETT ouvre pour la première fois ses 7 halls d'exposition et la rue centrale passe à 500 mètres de long ! Une autre nouveauté parmi de nombreuses ? Allez, je balance l'info : Milwaukee France débarque avec 600 m² de véhicules ! Vous ne venez toujours pas ? Combo Salon Auto-Moto Classic et American Day : plus de 300 stands cette année ! Plus de 30 000 visiteurs ! 4, 5 & 6 septembre 2026 ! www.automoto-classic.com #v8 #voituredecollection #shelby #toulouse #americanday #meetttoulouse 🇺🇸A sneak peek at the Toulouse trip where the US cars roll in for a weekend takeover! In 2026, MEETT opens its 7 exhibition halls for the first time, and the central street stretches to 500 meters long! Another novelty among many? Here’s the scoop: Milwaukee France lands with 600 m² of vehicles! Still not coming? Combo Salon Auto-Moto Classic and American Day: over 300 stands this year! More than 30,000 visitors! @à la une
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Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Struggling with the upfront cost of custom packaging? With Coffee Bag Collective, you can upgrade to fully printed, eco-friendly coffee bags without tying up your cash. Spread the cost with flexible payment options, including 0% interest over 3 months, so you can improve your packaging now and pay over time. We make it simple with low minimum orders, free design support, and a process built for growing coffee brands. Apply today to claim your free design and sample pack.
2010 BMW Z4 - £4,495.00 February MOT 2027, 2 Keys, Drives good, all good tyres, Perfect for the summer ahead, part exchange welcome, delivery available, BMW Z4 2.3I SDRIVE M SPORT 2.5l 19in Light Alloy Wheels- M Double Spoke Style 326M, Air Conditioning - Automatic - Dual Zone, Alarm System Thatcham 1 with Remote Control, Aluminium Carbon Trim, Auxiliary Input, BMW ConnectedDrive- Assist, BMW Connected Drive- Online, Bluetooth telephone CBC - Cornering Brake Control, Connectivity Package, DAB Digital Radio, DSC Door Mirrors - Heated, Drive Dynamic Control, EBD - Electronic Brake-Force Distribution, Enhanced Bluetooth Telephone Functionality, Exterior Trim High-Gloss Shadowline, Headlights - Washer System, Headlights - Xenon with Welcome Light and Daytime Running Lights, Headlining - Anthracite, Heated Front Seats Facebook Marketplace | 2010 BMW Z4 February MOT 2027, 2 Keys, Drives good, all good tyres, Perfect for the summer ahead, part exchange welcome, delivery available, BMW Z4 2.3I SDRIVE M SPORT 2.5l 19in Light Alloy Wheels- M Double Spoke Style 326M, Air Conditioning - Automatic - Dual Zone, Alarm System Thatcham 1 with Remote Control, Aluminium Carbon Trim, Auxiliary Input, BMW ConnectedDrive- Assist, BMW Connected Drive- Online, Bluetooth telephone CBC - Cornering Brake Control, Connectivity Package, DAB Digital Radio, DSC Door Mirrors - Heated, Drive Dynamic Control, EBD - Electronic Brake-Force Distribution, Enhanced Bluetooth Telephone Functionality, Exterior Trim High-Gloss Shadowline, Headlights - Washer System, Headlights - Xenon with Welcome Light and Daytime Running Lights, Headlining - Anthracite, Heated Front Seats
One of my favorite things is the monthly check-up my stepdaddy gives me. Every time, I feel a strange, tingling sensation spreading through me. But Daddy says it's proof of my health. He’s the best OB/GYN and I trust him completely. He really cares about me. But this time, he says something isn't right with my body. “The instrument isn’t working,” he says. “We’ll have to use this to probe around.” Daddy slowly loosens his pants and pushes his thing inside me. ###Chapter 1 Kristi's POV I like the way it feels when my stepdad Patrick gives me these monthly exams. As one of the best obstetricians and gynecologists in the city, Patrick routinely brings his medical exam kit home. Last year, he started doing v@ginal exams on me, and mommy agreed it was important. She had a history of cancer on her side of the family and wanted to make sure there were no problems for me. Mommy had only married Patrick four years ago. He was tall and always impeccably dressed. Everything about him just seemed so composed and in control. I was happy mommy had found a man to make her happy. Still, I never felt close to him. He worked really long hours at times. We rarely saw each other. He was always gone by the time I woke up, and by the time he got home, I was usually out at school events. But Patrick did make time for my monthly exam, saying it was important to make sure I was clean, disease free and still a v1rgin. He always came into my room in the evenings to do the exam. Initially the exams didn’t feel that weird. He would ask me about my period and whether any boy had touched me down there. Then he would pull me to the edge of my bed, bend my knees, and insert a cold shiny thing he called a speculum, peering into me. He always gave me the all-clear. But since I turned eighteen years old, his exams have become more thorough. He has me strip down completely and starts with a bre@st exam, rotating his fingers on both bre@sts feeling for lumps and pinching my n1pples to make sure I don’t have any fluid come from them. Then he follows down to my girl parts and continues his exam. He prefers my mound be completely shaven for the exam, he says he can see more tissue that way. So his exam always begins with him shaving me there. He does a pretty good job, gets a close shave and has never cut me. After the shave, Daddy uses his fingers to spread my l1ps apart, rubbing his fingers on the inside of them, feeling for bumps. I can feel his breath very close to my special little place, he says he needs to take a really close look. Sometimes his thumb brushes over my special button. I always jump a little because it feels tingly and nice. When I moan out, he rubs it some more. “Does that feel sore, baby? Let me make sure it’s okay.” I’ve never told him, but I secretly really like when he rubs me there. It makes my tummy feel all warm and tingly inside. But Daddy always knows. He says my body gives him all the lubrication he needs for the rest of the exam. Once I’m nice and wet, he slides the speculum in, stretching me a little more each month. He says it’s important to stretch me because someday a man will put his boy part there and I will thank him for having prepared me for it. He always looks inside and tells me what a good girl I’ve been, that I still have my v1rginity because he can see the protective barrier inside me. Lately though, since I’ve turned eighteen, he spends more time there. He has even licked me there. He says he can tell a woman’s health by the flavor of her moisture. I always feel so good… like I need something more, but I don’t know what it is. One time I whispered, “Daddy… when you lick me there, it feels really really good… but then I feel all empty and wanting something else.” Daddy smiled big and said, “Thank you for telling me, princess. Daddy will see what he can do to help.” This last time, he took his gloves off his big strong hands and put his fingers inside me and pushed down on my belly. He said he needed to feel whether or not I had any knots or swelling. He had two fingers inside me and he was rubbing in there quite a while. Suddenly I felt the strangest, nicest feeling ever. I couldn’t help pushing my h1ps against his hand. I was having a hard time catching my breath. Daddy looked at me proudly and said, “That was an org@sm, baby girl. Daddy is so proud of you for letting your body cvm during the exam.” He kissed my forehead. “Next month Daddy is going to add a couple of new things to your exam. And after that, because you’re getting older, we’ll need to do this every week instead of just once a month.” ###Chapter 2 Kristi's POV On the day of the exam, Daddy came home earlier than usual and headed straight for my room. “Kristi, I need to do your exam right away,” he said, voice tight with urgency. “Undress for me, princess.” I did as I was told. Daddy stood in the doorway watching me the whole time. It didn't bother me at all—he was my doctor after all and had seen so much more of me than any other man. I got onto my bed and scooted down towards the bottom of it. "I'm ready, Daddy." Daddy started with my mouth, he opened it and looked inside. He slipped his fingers into my mouth, playing with my tongue until drool slipped past my lips. I felt a little embarrassed. He had never done that before. Then he pulled his pants down and freed his boy part. “I need to gauge how much you can swallow, baby.” Before I could even react, he pushed it into my mouth. It felt weird having it there, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Alternate between licking it like an ice cream cone and svcking it like a lollipop,” he instructed calmly. I did exactly as he said, licking and svcking while trying not to gag. While his manhood was in my mouth, daddy continued my exam, checking on my bre@sts. He kneaded them in his hands, pinching my n1pples in his fingers. He suddenly bent forward. “I thought I saw something coming from one of your n1pples.” I was a little nervous. Could there be anything wrong with my bre@st? "Easy, babe. Let me have a check, but the only way I can make sure is to svck on it." Daddy lowered his mouth to my n1pple and svcked it into his mouth, nibbling on it with his teeth and svcking it hard. When he finally released it with a wet pop, he said, “Oh, I must have been mistaken. There wasn’t anything coming from your n1pple, but it was better to be safe than sorry.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “Daddy… my belly feels weird. It kind of hurts.” Daddy smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it go away.” He slid his big strong hand down to my belly, then cupped my mound with his hand. His finger circled the sensitive button between my girl l1ps that he sometimes svcked on. I felt that weird pain in my belly even more. Daddy started circling it faster and faster that I couldn’t keep still. “Daddy… ah…!” But he didn't stop. He pushed two fingers deep inside me, stroking that sensitive spot over and over. The feeling grew stronger and stronger until suddenly I felt a huge gush of wetness. I panicked. “Daddy! I’m sorry—I think I peed!” Daddy chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it, princess. That’s a perfectly normal reaction. I’m very glad your body responded so well.” Then he moved between my legs, his thick manhood pressing against my entrance. “I need to put my man part in there and probe around,” he said, his voice low. “Is that okay with you, princess?”
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
I'm 43. My bloods came back "normal." I haven't felt normal since my second COVID infection in 2024. My GP asked if I'd tried meditation. Most long COVID advice misses the actual problem. They tell you to pace, push through, or try another antidepressant. They miss what the virus did inside your cells. When SARS-CoV-2 infected you, an enzyme called PARP1 went into overdrive trying to fight it. PARP1 burns NAD+ as fuel. The virus left. PARP1 kept burning. Your cells are running on empty. Reviva™ supports the NAD+ salvage pathway from four entry points — so your mitochondria can make energy again. A 2025 Mass General trial (n=58) showed NAD+ levels rose 2.6 to 3.1 times within 5 to 10 weeks of supplementation. Researchers reported within-group improvements in fatigue, sleep and mood, and called for larger trials. Sarah, 41, from Manchester had been housebound 4 days a week. Couldn't climb her own stairs without her pulse hitting 130. She'd tried NR. Tried NMN. Tried CoQ10. Spent £900 on supplements that did nothing. After 2 weeks on Reviva™: she walked her daughter to the bus stop and didn't crash. After 4 weeks: a full workday plus cooking dinner. No nap. Her 11-year-old looked up at breakfast and said, "You're the normal mum again." You weren't wrong to try NR, NMN or a functional medicine protocol. The precursor pathway that converts them into NAD+ is the same pathway the virus broke. Reviva™ supports that pathway from multiple angles at once. With Reviva™ you get: ✅ NAD+ salvage support across 4 coordinated entry points ✅ Trans-Resveratrol (250mg) to activate SIRT1 — so restored NAD+ actually gets used ✅ TMG (100mg) for methylation support most NAD+ formulas miss Standard bloodwork measures what's in your blood — not what's missing inside your cells. NAD+ depletion doesn't show up on a CBC. Today only — the first 100 readers from Facebook get our biggest discount of the year. Reviva™ isn't sold on Amazon or in Boots. Direct only. Backed by our 90-day money-back guarantee. If your partner, your walking group or your child doesn't notice the difference — send it back. No questions. 👉 Tap below to learn more https://www.zifanna.com/UK/reviva
I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
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I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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One of my favorite things is the monthly check-up my stepdaddy gives me. Every time, I feel a strange, tingling sensation spreading through me. But Daddy says it's proof of my health. He’s the best OB/GYN and I trust him completely. He really cares about me. But this time, he says something isn't right with my body. “The instrument isn’t working,” he says. “We’ll have to use this to probe around.” Daddy slowly loosens his pants and pushes his thing inside me. ###Chapter 1 Kristi's POV I like the way it feels when my stepdad Patrick gives me these monthly exams. As one of the best obstetricians and gynecologists in the city, Patrick routinely brings his medical exam kit home. Last year, he started doing v@ginal exams on me, and mommy agreed it was important. She had a history of cancer on her side of the family and wanted to make sure there were no problems for me. Mommy had only married Patrick four years ago. He was tall and always impeccably dressed. Everything about him just seemed so composed and in control. I was happy mommy had found a man to make her happy. Still, I never felt close to him. He worked really long hours at times. We rarely saw each other. He was always gone by the time I woke up, and by the time he got home, I was usually out at school events. But Patrick did make time for my monthly exam, saying it was important to make sure I was clean, disease free and still a v1rgin. He always came into my room in the evenings to do the exam. Initially the exams didn’t feel that weird. He would ask me about my period and whether any boy had touched me down there. Then he would pull me to the edge of my bed, bend my knees, and insert a cold shiny thing he called a speculum, peering into me. He always gave me the all-clear. But since I turned eighteen years old, his exams have become more thorough. He has me strip down completely and starts with a bre@st exam, rotating his fingers on both bre@sts feeling for lumps and pinching my n1pples to make sure I don’t have any fluid come from them. Then he follows down to my girl parts and continues his exam. He prefers my mound be completely shaven for the exam, he says he can see more tissue that way. So his exam always begins with him shaving me there. He does a pretty good job, gets a close shave and has never cut me. After the shave, Daddy uses his fingers to spread my l1ps apart, rubbing his fingers on the inside of them, feeling for bumps. I can feel his breath very close to my special little place, he says he needs to take a really close look. Sometimes his thumb brushes over my special button. I always jump a little because it feels tingly and nice. When I moan out, he rubs it some more. “Does that feel sore, baby? Let me make sure it’s okay.” I’ve never told him, but I secretly really like when he rubs me there. It makes my tummy feel all warm and tingly inside. But Daddy always knows. He says my body gives him all the lubrication he needs for the rest of the exam. Once I’m nice and wet, he slides the speculum in, stretching me a little more each month. He says it’s important to stretch me because someday a man will put his boy part there and I will thank him for having prepared me for it. He always looks inside and tells me what a good girl I’ve been, that I still have my v1rginity because he can see the protective barrier inside me. Lately though, since I’ve turned eighteen, he spends more time there. He has even licked me there. He says he can tell a woman’s health by the flavor of her moisture. I always feel so good… like I need something more, but I don’t know what it is. One time I whispered, “Daddy… when you lick me there, it feels really really good… but then I feel all empty and wanting something else.” Daddy smiled big and said, “Thank you for telling me, princess. Daddy will see what he can do to help.” This last time, he took his gloves off his big strong hands and put his fingers inside me and pushed down on my belly. He said he needed to feel whether or not I had any knots or swelling. He had two fingers inside me and he was rubbing in there quite a while. Suddenly I felt the strangest, nicest feeling ever. I couldn’t help pushing my h1ps against his hand. I was having a hard time catching my breath. Daddy looked at me proudly and said, “That was an org@sm, baby girl. Daddy is so proud of you for letting your body cvm during the exam.” He kissed my forehead. “Next month Daddy is going to add a couple of new things to your exam. And after that, because you’re getting older, we’ll need to do this every week instead of just once a month.” ###Chapter 2 Kristi's POV On the day of the exam, Daddy came home earlier than usual and headed straight for my room. “Kristi, I need to do your exam right away,” he said, voice tight with urgency. “Undress for me, princess.” I did as I was told. Daddy stood in the doorway watching me the whole time. It didn't bother me at all—he was my doctor after all and had seen so much more of me than any other man. I got onto my bed and scooted down towards the bottom of it. "I'm ready, Daddy." Daddy started with my mouth, he opened it and looked inside. He slipped his fingers into my mouth, playing with my tongue until drool slipped past my lips. I felt a little embarrassed. He had never done that before. Then he pulled his pants down and freed his boy part. “I need to gauge how much you can swallow, baby.” Before I could even react, he pushed it into my mouth. It felt weird having it there, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Alternate between licking it like an ice cream cone and svcking it like a lollipop,” he instructed calmly. I did exactly as he said, licking and svcking while trying not to gag. While his manhood was in my mouth, daddy continued my exam, checking on my bre@sts. He kneaded them in his hands, pinching my n1pples in his fingers. He suddenly bent forward. “I thought I saw something coming from one of your n1pples.” I was a little nervous. Could there be anything wrong with my bre@st? "Easy, babe. Let me have a check, but the only way I can make sure is to svck on it." Daddy lowered his mouth to my n1pple and svcked it into his mouth, nibbling on it with his teeth and svcking it hard. When he finally released it with a wet pop, he said, “Oh, I must have been mistaken. There wasn’t anything coming from your n1pple, but it was better to be safe than sorry.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “Daddy… my belly feels weird. It kind of hurts.” Daddy smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it go away.” He slid his big strong hand down to my belly, then cupped my mound with his hand. His finger circled the sensitive button between my girl l1ps that he sometimes svcked on. I felt that weird pain in my belly even more. Daddy started circling it faster and faster that I couldn’t keep still. “Daddy… ah…!” But he didn't stop. He pushed two fingers deep inside me, stroking that sensitive spot over and over. The feeling grew stronger and stronger until suddenly I felt a huge gush of wetness. I panicked. “Daddy! I’m sorry—I think I peed!” Daddy chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it, princess. That’s a perfectly normal reaction. I’m very glad your body responded so well.” Then he moved between my legs, his thick manhood pressing against my entrance. “I need to put my man part in there and probe around,” he said, his voice low. “Is that okay with you, princess?”
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Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
Le cadeau idéal pour la Fête des Mères 🫶 Le Journal : 'Je veux connaître ton histoire' a été conçu pour offrir une expérience de partage unique entre toi et tes proches. 👨👩👧👧 Souvenirs familiaux inoubliables 🥇 Élu meilleur cadeau ⭐ +530 avis avec 4,9/5 étoiles ✅ Livraison offerte à partir de 2 journaux achetés
I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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Kristi's POV I like the way it feels when my stepdad Patrick gives me these monthly exams. As one of the best obstetricians and gynecologists in the city, Patrick routinely brings his medical exam kit home. Last year, he started doing v@ginal exams on me, and mommy agreed it was important. She had a history of cancer on her side of the family and wanted to make sure there were no problems for me. Mommy had only married Patrick four years ago. He was tall and always impeccably dressed. Everything about him just seemed so composed and in control. I was happy mommy had found a man to make her happy. Still, I never felt close to him. He worked really long hours at times. We rarely saw each other. He was always gone by the time I woke up, and by the time he got home, I was usually out at school events. But Patrick did make time for my monthly exam, saying it was important to make sure I was clean, disease free and still a v1rgin. He always came into my room in the evenings to do the exam. Initially the exams didn’t feel that weird. He would ask me about my period and whether any boy had touched me down there. Then he would pull me to the edge of my bed, bend my knees, and insert a cold shiny thing he called a speculum, peering into me. He always gave me the all-clear. But since I turned eighteen years old, his exams have become more thorough. He has me strip down completely and starts with a bre@st exam, rotating his fingers on both bre@sts feeling for lumps and pinching my n1pples to make sure I don’t have any fluid come from them. Then he follows down to my girl parts and continues his exam. He prefers my mound be completely shaven for the exam, he says he can see more tissue that way. So his exam always begins with him shaving me there. He does a pretty good job, gets a close shave and has never cut me. After the shave, Daddy uses his fingers to spread my l1ps apart, rubbing his fingers on the inside of them, feeling for bumps. I can feel his breath very close to my special little place, he says he needs to take a really close look. Sometimes his thumb brushes over my special button. I always jump a little because it feels tingly and nice. When I moan out, he rubs it some more. “Does that feel sore, baby? Let me make sure it’s okay.” I’ve never told him, but I secretly really like when he rubs me there. It makes my tummy feel all warm and tingly inside. But Daddy always knows. He says my body gives him all the lubrication he needs for the rest of the exam. Once I’m nice and wet, he slides the speculum in, stretching me a little more each month. He says it’s important to stretch me because someday a man will put his boy part there and I will thank him for having prepared me for it. He always looks inside and tells me what a good girl I’ve been, that I still have my v1rginity because he can see the protective barrier inside me. Lately though, since I’ve turned eighteen, he spends more time there. He has even licked me there. He says he can tell a woman’s health by the flavor of her moisture. I always feel so good… like I need something more, but I don’t know what it is. One time I whispered, “Daddy… when you lick me there, it feels really really good… but then I feel all empty and wanting something else.” Daddy smiled big and said, “Thank you for telling me, princess. Daddy will see what he can do to help.” This last time, he took his gloves off his big strong hands and put his fingers inside me and pushed down on my belly. He said he needed to feel whether or not I had any knots or swelling. He had two fingers inside me and he was rubbing in there quite a while. Suddenly I felt the strangest, nicest feeling ever. I couldn’t help pushing my h1ps against his hand. I was having a hard time catching my breath. Daddy looked at me proudly and said, “That was an org@sm, baby girl. Daddy is so proud of you for letting your body cvm during the exam.” He kissed my forehead. “Next month Daddy is going to add a couple of new things to your exam. And after that, because you’re getting older, we’ll need to do this every week instead of just once a month.” ###Chapter 2 Kristi's POV On the day of the exam, Daddy came home earlier than usual and headed straight for my room. “Kristi, I need to do your exam right away,” he said, voice tight with urgency. “Undress for me, princess.” I did as I was told. Daddy stood in the doorway watching me the whole time. It didn't bother me at all—he was my doctor after all and had seen so much more of me than any other man. I got onto my bed and scooted down towards the bottom of it. "I'm ready, Daddy." Daddy started with my mouth, he opened it and looked inside. He slipped his fingers into my mouth, playing with my tongue until drool slipped past my lips. I felt a little embarrassed. He had never done that before. Then he pulled his pants down and freed his boy part. “I need to gauge how much you can swallow, baby.” Before I could even react, he pushed it into my mouth. It felt weird having it there, I wasn’t sure what to do with it. “Alternate between licking it like an ice cream cone and svcking it like a lollipop,” he instructed calmly. I did exactly as he said, licking and svcking while trying not to gag. While his manhood was in my mouth, daddy continued my exam, checking on my bre@sts. He kneaded them in his hands, pinching my n1pples in his fingers. He suddenly bent forward. “I thought I saw something coming from one of your n1pples.” I was a little nervous. Could there be anything wrong with my bre@st? "Easy, babe. Let me have a check, but the only way I can make sure is to svck on it." Daddy lowered his mouth to my n1pple and svcked it into his mouth, nibbling on it with his teeth and svcking it hard. When he finally released it with a wet pop, he said, “Oh, I must have been mistaken. There wasn’t anything coming from your n1pple, but it was better to be safe than sorry.” I gasped, trying to catch my breath. “Daddy… my belly feels weird. It kind of hurts.” Daddy smiled down at me. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make it go away.” He slid his big strong hand down to my belly, then cupped my mound with his hand. His finger circled the sensitive button between my girl l1ps that he sometimes svcked on. I felt that weird pain in my belly even more. Daddy started circling it faster and faster that I couldn’t keep still. “Daddy… ah…!” But he didn't stop. He pushed two fingers deep inside me, stroking that sensitive spot over and over. The feeling grew stronger and stronger until suddenly I felt a huge gush of wetness. I panicked. “Daddy! I’m sorry—I think I peed!” Daddy chuckled softly. “Don’t worry about it, princess. That’s a perfectly normal reaction. I’m very glad your body responded so well.” Then he moved between my legs, his thick manhood pressing against my entrance. “I need to put my man part in there and probe around,” he said, his voice low. “Is that okay with you, princess?”
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I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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I ended up at the hospital alone after my werebeast, Jamarion Garrard, scratched me—again. "This is deep enough to leave a scar," the nurse muttered while stitching. "Has your werebeast ever actually been socialized?" I offered a tight smile. "He has. Top of his class, actually." Suddenly, my phone buzzed. For once, Jamarion sent me a bunch of messages. "It's only a scratch. Was it really necessary to go to the hospital?" "I'm hungry. Come back and make me dinner." "I never get enough to eat, not after being yours." "You seriously svck at taking care of me." Was that honestly how he saw things? After leaving the hospital, I headed straight for the Werebeast Exchange. "I'd like to exchange my werebeast." *** The receptionist was very polite as she went through the standard intake questions. "You've been registered with your current werebeast for a full year. You're almost eligible to form a bond. "Why do you want to exchange him now?" A deep pang of sadness hit me. It had been a year already. I still remembered how eager I'd been for our bonding, talking excitedly with Jamarion about what our rings should look like. He'd smirked at me. "Do you honestly think you're good enough for me? "Crying won't change anything. I'm never going to form a bond with you. "Here's a free tip—you lower-class humans look disgusting when you cry." He was right—I was at the very bottom tier of humans, barely qualified for entry‑level work. No matter how hard I worked, I could never afford the lifestyle Jamarion demanded. Honestly, it was pure luck that I'd managed to bvy a pureblood werefox like him in the first place. I swallowed the lump in my throat. "He doesn't like me." The truth was, he hated me. The receptionist blinked in surprise. "Normally, trained werebeasts wouldn't act like this. "They are supposed to be completely devoted to their owners." And yet, somehow, the impossible had happened—to me. I managed a casual smile. "I guess I just have bad luck." Her expression turned apologetic. "The issue lies with our training. "Please don't be too hard on yourself. "Come with me." I'd originally paid 80 thousand dollars for Jamarion, which meant I could pick a replacement from the same price bracket. I flipped through the available options, taking in faces that were slightly less striking than Jamarion's, but still gorgeous. Their files listed them as foxes and leopards. I hesitated. "Do you have anyone else?" I wanted a canine. Specifically, a golden retriever. I'd heard golden retriever werebeasts genuinely liked humans. If that were true, maybe one would even like a lower-tier human like me. The staff member maintained her polite customer-service smile. "Not at the moment. "However, werebeasts mature quickly, and our next group will be available in two months. "As compensation for your trouble, we'll give you priority selection." I nodded. As she walked me toward the door, a loose photo slipped out of her folder and fluttered to the floor. The man in the picture had cold, vertically slitted gray eyes. With a high nose bridge, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist, he was undeniably handsome—but he looked incredibly dangerous. He was a werewolf. The receptionist sighed, picking it up. "He's actually our best-behaved werebeast. "Management wanted to try expanding into a new market, but bvyers are terrified that a werewolf will lose control and attack them. "Our supervisors are worried about losing money, so they're se lling him to the fighting arena today. "The problem is, he was raised to be gentle. If he goes to the arena, the other fighters will definitely ki ll him. "Nobody wants to bvy him, and it's truly sad." Nobody wanted him? Nobody wanted me, either. But still... Her sigh deepened. "I heard that once they go to the arena, they get completely mutilated by the other beasts. "He won't survive." That sounded like an agonizing way to die. And a werewolf technically counted as a canine, didn't it? I stopped walking. "Is he really well-behaved?" She looked up, instantly hopeful. "Yes, absolutely." "Then I'll take him." Chapter 2 The staff told me the werewolf would be delivered in three days. I carefully tucked the exchange agreement into my bag. On the walk home, I spotted Jamarion and Gianna Latimer in the distance. The white-haired werefox stood in the evening light. With his deep-set eyes and distinct features, he was incredibly handsome. Gianna was a high-class human from the neighboring district. She was smart, elegant, and completely unlike me. Ever since she met Jamarion, she'd made a habit of dropping by with premium nutritional supplements, and the two of them had grown unusually close. I slowed my pace. Gianna noticed me. "Deb, off to work again?" She offered a subtle smile. "I have to say, even if you're about to form a bond with Jamarion, you really ought to put a little more effort into your appearance. "Look at what you're wearing. "Walking down the street like that, no one's going to think you two are a couple." I glanced down at my plain t-shirt and jeans, then back at her beautiful dress. "I think I look fine." Jamarion didn't even look at me. "She wouldn't look good even if she tried," he muttered under his breath. "She's better off pretending she just doesn't know how to dress. "That way, people won't realize she's genuinely unattractive." Gianna swatted his arm. "Jamarion, how can you say that about Deb?" Jamarion smirked. It was a flawless, completely mocking smile. "You're trying to help, and she just thinks you're being nosy. "Low-class humans simply can't grasp how high-class humans think. "It was my own terrible luck that she bought me." He never used to be like this. Back when I couldn't afford the premium supplements that high-grade werebeasts need, and the cheap clothes I bought chafed his sensitive skin, he would always insist that he was lucky to have found me. That all changed the day we ran into his former rival—a red werefox werebeast—on the street. I had dropped my bag, and Jamarion was helping me gather my scattered things. The red werefox stepped out of a car and planted his foot directly onto Jamarion's hand. He let out an exaggerated gasp. "Well, if it isn't the highly sought-after Jamarion. "How did you end up with such a plain, low-class human? "I suppose it makes sense, though. A defective product paired with a low-class human is a perfect match." Jamarion locked himself in his room for the rest of the night. I sat outside his door until morning, trying to tell him that dividing people into classes was wrong, and that he shouldn't care about Werebeast Exchange labeling him as defective. We were doing just fine together. When Jamarion finally opened the door, his eyes were red and swollen. "You've never lived in Werebeast Exchange," he said, "so of course you think being considered completely worthless is perfectly fine." Then he met Gianna. Coming from a wealthy background, Gianna could offer him so much more. They grew closer every day. Sometimes, while they talked, she would lean against him. I brought it up cautiously one time. "You're my werebeast. Could you keep your distance from Gianna?" Jamarion stared down at me with contempt. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. "Deborah," he said, "you never would have been able to afford me if I weren't defective. "You just took advantage of my desperate situation. "What gives you the right to act like my owner?" But the truth was, he was the one who had begged me to save him in the first place. Chapter 3 In this new era, male werebeasts existed to reproduce with humans. As a top-tier werebeast, Jamarion commanded a staggering price at the auction house—at least, until he was diagnosed with inferrtility. Nobody wanted an infertile werebeast. Even after his price dropped to 80 thousand dollars, he was entirely useless to humans looking to reproduce. His managers planned to send him to the red-light district just to recoup their investment. I happened to be there that day, intending to bvy a werebeast of my own. Jamarion broke free from his restraints and dropped to his knees in front of me. "Please save me," he pleaded. He looked up at me, large tears spilling from his beautiful eyes. "I'll be so good to you. I'll be your family," he cried. "I don't want to die. Please." Growing up in an orphanage, I never knew what it meant to have a real family. Jamarion's words had struck a chord with me back then. Even though I loved kids, having just one person to call my own felt like enough. I drained my savings and even took out a loan to bvy him. I never brought up his past, terrified it would offend him. I certainly never expected that when he finally brought it up himself, he would accuse me of taking advantage of his misfortune. I argued back, trying to defend myself. In the heat of the moment, I accidentally brushed his hand. He reacted purely on instinct, shoving me away so hard that I slammed into the sharp corner of the table. It sliced my arm wide open, leaving a deep, nasty gash. Jamarion froze for a split second, but he made no move to help me. "You wouldn't be hurt if you hadn't tried to grab me," he said. "You did this to yourself." He wouldn't even drive me to the hospital. "I'm going shopping with Gianna today," he told me. "Besides, my being there won't make it hurt any less. "You can walk perfectly fine on your own. Stop depending on me for every little thing." At the hospital, the nurse sighed as she wrapped my arm. "A cut this deep is going to leave a scar, and it'll probably ache when it's damp out," she said. "You and your werebeast really don't get along. Maybe you should just leave him." It hit me all at once—she was right. I could just leave. Jamarion and I didn't have to be chained to each other forever. My focus snapped back to the present. I spoke up, stopping Jamarion just as he was closing the door. "Jamarion, does being with me really make you that miserable?" He paused. When he looked back over his shoulder, he wore that same mocking smirk. "Yeah. "But someone of your low status got incredibly lucky acquiring me, so you'll never let me go. "I'm going to be stuck with a clingy annoyance for the rest of my life." I let out a slow breath, washed over by a sudden, intense wave of relief. It seemed I really had made the right decision. When I didn't answer right away, Jamarion thumped his tail impatiently against the floor. "What do you want?" I looked down, picking at my cuticles. "I got you a gift. You'll see it in a few days." An unreadable expression crossed his face for a fraction of a second. He almost looked hopeful, but quickly slipped right back into his usual mocking tone. "I hope it isn't more of that cheap nutritional supplement. "It's absolute garbage. I'll just end up pouring it down the toilet." I looked at him, dead serious. "No. It's what you want most." Freedom. "It better be," Jamarion muttered, shutting the door firmly behind him. Chapter 4 Gianna showed up bright and early the next morning. "Jamarion and I agreed to go shopping," she announced. "We just have similar tastes, and we always have so much to talk about when we go out. "You aren't mad, are you, Deb?" She watched me closely, testing the waters. Normally, I would sulk and refuse to let him leave. It always ate at me that he refused to go anywhere with me, yet constantly went out with her. But today, I had my own plans. "I don't mind," I said casually. Jamarion had been getting a look of disgust ready, but my answer stopped him in his tracks. His expression turned awkward. "Deborah... you really aren't angry?" I pulled on my jacket. "Not at all. Go wherever you want." There was a massive end-of-season salle at the mall today, and I needed to get moving to bvy some essential supplies for a werewolf. Gianna linked her arm through his, her voice delicate. "Isn't it better that she isn't causing trouble? "Let's stop talking and just go." I watched how physically close they were, but I didn't feel my usual stab of jealousy. I simply slipped on my shoes and walked quickly out the door. The regular mall was packed, just like it was all year round. It was mostly lower-class people out shopping with their ordinary werebeasts. Shoppers bumped into each other in the crowded aisles, but they all wore happy, genuine smiles. Their upbeat energy started to rub off on me. Once I bought a new werebeast, I'd probably be just as happy. I would never again have to hear Jamarion say that worthless people deserved cheap things. He wouldn't loudly make fun of this mall in public before ditching me, leaving me standing there humiliated. All I really wanted was a normal, affectionate werebeast. If I hadn't stumbled across Jamarion begging for help back then, I could have been living that life a long time ago. I didn't get back until after dark. Surprisingly, Jamarion was actually home—he and Gianna usually stayed out late. He was planted on the couch with his arms crossed, visibly fuming. "Where have you been? You didn't even make dinner," he snapped. "It's bad enough living in poverty with you, but now I'm starving. "You do a terrible job taking care of me." I took a sip of my coffee and set my shopping bags on the counter. "I figured you'd just eat at Gianna's. "Plus, I didn't think you wanted my cooking anyway. "I spent all afternoon making your birthday dinner, and you threw the whole thing in the trash." That shut him up. I focused entirely on unpacking the supplies I'd bought for the werewolf—chew toys, a grooming comb, and fish oil. I didn't hear Jamarion walk up behind me. "Are you treating me like a dog?" he scoffed. "I don't need cheap trash meant for some low-grade werebeast. "A comb like that is going to ruin my hair, and this fish oil isn't even pure. "But whatever. Since you already bought it, I guess I can try it out." "These aren't for you," I cut in. He froze, his hand hovering just over the comb. "What do you mean?" I turned to look at his flawless face. "I'm not good enough for a high-grade werebeast like you. "I've already filed the transfer paperwork. "In a couple of days, you'll never have to see me again."
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