by Eden Rose
Ashes To Dust
The Secret Wives Series Book One
Eden Rose
Copyright © 2019 by Eden Rose
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Dedication:
To everyone who is looking for a different kind of love story. This one is for you.
XoXo-
Eden
Acknowledgments:
Shannon: My amazing Personal Assistant, my backbone, my everything. Thank you for being the best PA a girl can ask for. Sorry, it’s not mafia-but I think you might like it anyway!
Ellie Midwood: It’s not often we come across people who have the same interests we do. Thank you for allowing me to bounce ideas off of you.
My Family: You know I love you.
Readers: Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my stories. It means more to me than I could ever tell you.
To The Survivors and Their Families: You will never be forgotten.
Note From The Author:
While this series is based loosely on the historical events of the Holocaust, this is a work of fiction. All characters, even resembling live or dead people, are created for the act of story telling. This is in no way based on an actual person (live or dead). All scenes have been fact checked but may have been altered for the art of entertainment.
Thank you for reading Ashes To Dust!
XoXo-
Eden
Stay Connected! Coming Soon From Eden!
Torched- A Caught Up Novel Book 1
Prince- A Diablos MC Novel Book 2
Forbidden Love- A Taboo Story
KingPin- A Syndicate Novel Book 2
Ashes To Dust
Eden Rose
Chapter One: Anya
My back hits the wall of the hotel room with a thud. My skirt is bunched around my waist as Milo hoists me up around his. He pushes his rock hard erection against my center making me mewl from want.
I’ve never been with a man before. I’ve never even kissed one before. I have no idea if the sounds or noises either of us are making are okay.
“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He murmurs against my lips.
I shake my head.
That’s actually a lie. I have been deemed the Pretty Jew Girl my whole life and I don’t want Milo to know I’m Jewish.
I’m playing a dangerous game that could get me killed. However, I truly love him. I love him enough to marry him after only knowing him for a couple of hours.
We are honeymooning in a hotel room about two kilometers from where I live with my parents. I suppose past tense is appropriate as now I’m married.
“You’re so beautiful. Impossibly so. I have to know what you feel like.”
I nod my head; words are unable to form and flow out freely at this moment. I know how he feels, though. I’m desperate for something I have never experienced before.
Balancing me on the wall with his hips, I feel him unbuckle his pants.
“Stop,” I beg. “Bed,” I murmur.
What is it about this man that makes it almost impossible for me to speak? I can’t even form a sentence around him.
He has me so stupid.
Without much effort, Milo carries me to the made bed in the middle of the room. He stops right before we get to it and drops me to my feet.
That’s when his hands are in my hair pulling my face towards his. Our kiss is sweltering, passionate and everything I thought it would be when I first got kissed.
My husband can kiss.
Our hands are in an unspoken race to see who can get their clothes off the quickest. We’re still attached by the lips, but our hands are speedy as they shed off our clothes.
Once we’re naked, Milo picks me up by the waist, wrapping my legs around his, and kisses me harder than before. I feel his hard-on trying to slide inside my center. I gasp at the intrusion.
It’s slow at first.
“My dearest love,” he murmurs against my lips. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” I moan back trying to relax my body for him to have more room.
There’s not much more I can do in this position.
“Relax,” he coaxes.
I shake my head. The pain and pleasure is mixing and creating something I have never experienced before. I cry out as I try to relax but it doesn’t work. Nothing works.
“Love, please relax! You’re squeezing me!”
I didn’t even realize that my center muscles were squeezing him so tightly until I relaxed my lower muscles and I felt a relief.
Milo leans down, his hands cupping my face, kisses me more tenderly than before but this time on my neck. A different sensation I didn’t feel before, floods through my body. I peel my eyes open to look at my husband, to see if he feels it too.
Something this good, euphoria, should be felt by the both of us.
“Milo, my love… Something’s happening!” I cry out as he plunders those delicious hips against the cradle of my sex.
Light dances in front of my eyes, my body tightens, my body screams from pleasure it’s never experienced.
“Give in to it, love. Give in to it!”
I reach for something I have never felt before. Something that feels so close yet so far away. It’s a strange feeling. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I have been wanting it my whole life.
Needing it.
Something only Milo can give me.
My hips begin to meet his in the middle. We fight to get closer. My fingers grip his back, digging small holes in them. I can’t get close enough to him.
Then suddenly, oh so suddenly, something crashes through my body. I feel a flood of something fiery hot flow through my middle and I’m screaming.
“Oh, g_d! Oh, g_d!” I scream out. I can’t help it.
I can’t help the flood of pleasure and pain cascading through my body.
“I’m coming!” Milo chants after I collapse on the bed spent from the orgasm.
At least, I hope what I’m feeling is an orgasm. If so, everyone has been right this whole entire time. It truly is the little death.
Chapter Two: Milo
Shit! Did I just make love to my wife for the first time?
A woman whose existence in my life has only been brief but will last a lifetime. I knew I had to meet her when I saw her on her way home from the market. I knew it.
The gorgeous dark-haired beauty with a pretty but guarded smile, walked right past me.
I had been on duty when I saw her. I was placed in charge of making sure the Jews had all their papers that were needed to get their rations for the day.
I couldn’t stop myself from walking up behind her, tapping her on the shoulder, and then chuckle when she flinched. Anya looks totally the opposite of the typical Aryan woman, but I refuse to believe the truth.
I refuse to believe she’s Jewish.
I married her, anyway. It took me a matter of five minutes to marry the woman in a secret ceremony on the outskirts of camp. I had to. The love I feel for this woman is borderline obsessive already. I need her.
“Is it like that all the time?” She whispers next to me.
She’s laying in the cocoon of my arm and chest, her dark hair spread out around her like a halo. “I hope so,” I murmur.
My dick is already ready for round two. We will sleep when we’re dead. I have to experience this woman in every way that I can before I have to go back to duty.
Looking over at my
watch on the bedside table, I see we have only an hour left of our honeymoon.
“My love, I have to go back to report for duty soon,” I say cautiously in order to not break up the moment we’re having.
She flinches. “Do you have to?”
“Anya, I’m sorry, but I have a duty.”
“I know.”
“What has you so worried?” I ask her.
She burrows her face deeper into the cocoon. “Nothing,” she answers.
I pull her face out of the cocoon with my fist, turning my body to see her face better. She has the most beautiful face. “Tell me what you’re worried about.”
“I’m worried I will never see you again. I’m worried that everything will end as soon as we leave.”
“My love for you won’t end.”
“You say that now…” she hedges.
I cut her off. “I say that always.”
Chapter Three: Anya
A picture might be worth a thousand bucks, but this picture I’m holding is worth the moon and the sun to me.
In my hands is the only picture I have of my husband and I. The only picture we took as I hopped onto the train, illegally-I might add, to head to where my parents live. This picture has become my prized possession and I will guard it with my life.
I tuck it into my coat pocket as my mother swings her head into the doorway. “Anya, we need to leave right now. We need to get out of here before it’s too late,” she pushes me.
I shove the picture into my bag, careful to not get it folded or creased.
Picking up the bag full of just a few of my belongings, I take a breath and look at my room. The room I have lived in for just over a year, but it is still very much my room. I will miss the way the street lights cast dancing shadows on my walls at night. I will especially miss the freedom I once felt in this room.
“Anya! Now!” My mother tersely whispers through the crack in the door.
“I’m coming,” I snap back.
My stomach grumbles from the lack of food rations have had ever since we became stateless. The Nazis have gone out of their way to prove we’re not welcome here, and now they have limited every aspect of our lives- including food. I don’t dare tell my mother how hungry I am. I couldn’t stand the thought of her hating herself for not being able to feed me enough.
I would have thought I would have had enough food yesterday with Milo, my new husband, but I guess I didn’t.
The sun hasn’t come out yet, but the moon is shining bright enough for me to see the lights dance just enough for me to get one last look. I don’t know if I will ever be back here, but it’s nice to see it.
Without another word, I exit out of my bedroom and run straight into my father. To say that he’s worried would be an understatement. He’s afraid of what will happen once we leave here, and he’s also pissed off that he’s being pushed out of his home.
We knew it would happen eventually.
“We need to go,” he murmurs to me in Polish.
I nod my head and do one final look around the apartment.
A big pile of mail is sitting on the dining room table, which we don’t sit at anymore. It’s another reminder on how our life had changed so much. There’s a little ring of dust surrounding the place where our radio used to be. Another reminder of what was taken from us. Everywhere I look, there’s a memory of how good it used to be to live here.
The four of us, my parents and my baby brother, shed silent tears as we look at our home. A home that no longer belongs to us and will soon be occupied by the Germans like the rest of Europe is becoming. A home that I wanted to introduce Milo to. A home where I wanted our kids to meet their grandparents.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
Chapter Four: Anya
Since there are new laws which govern the Jewish population, we have to be very careful when we leave our place. Much more than that, we have to be unsuspicious in our comings and goings. If the Nazis think we are trying to hide or runaway, they would ship us off to the labor camps.
And from my understanding, no one comes back from the labor camps.
“Act as natural as possible,” my mom murmurs to us.
Alix, my brother, and I are walking in the middle of our parents in hopes of hiding our plastic bags full of clothes from the apartment and whatever else we might need for our hiding place. If the Nazis see us with a bag, they might follow us and ruin the hiding place for everyone else involved.
The weight of the picture of Milo and I is the only thing holding me down right now. I miss him so much and I can’t help but wonder if he came to get me like he promised. He kissed me on my lips after making love to me all night and told me he would come meet my parents and then we would start a life together.
That life isn’t going to happen the way we thought it would.
“Check point!” A Nazi yells out in front of us.
We stop what where we’re walking and wait to see if he is looking at us. Our yellow star of David is hidden under our coats but could still be considered visible if need be. We don’t want to completely alienate ourselves.
*
My Dearest Milo:
Two days ago, you wrapped me in your arms and told me you loved me. That was only two days ago. And yet, a lifetime has happened ever since then. I don’t know how to tell you this, or if you even knew. We didn’t get a chance to talk about our lives very much.
Hell, we didn’t talk much at all.
Our wedding night was absolutely perfect, yet seems like a dream.
I miss you.
I miss you so much and I’m scared I will never see you again.
Maybe I should start at why I wasn’t at home (my parents’ house) when you came to get me. You might have been scared, but so was I. When I got home that next morning, my father and mother had a lot of our personal belongings packed in weird bags with all of our clothes in a pile on the kitchen table. I asked them what it was for, and they told me I should have known this day was coming.
I was so scared. Absolutely petrified. I knew what this could mean. I knew exactly what was about to happen and I was more worried about never seeing you again instead of where we were going.
I received a letter from the S.S. that I had to report to a camp the next morning for work. I could never do what they wanted and we all know what that means. We all know what happens in these camps. I could never go to a labor camp. I’m not strong enough. My family has heard rumors about what they make the women do…
Milo, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you this when we got married. I’m Jewish. I know you probably will hate me just like everyone else does. I’m terribly sorry I didn’t tell you before… I couldn’t. I never met anyone like you. I never met anyone who makes me feel the way you do.
Please don’t hate me.
Your loving wife,
Anya
My Dearest Milo:
We have been in our secret hiding place for two days which means it has been four days since I last saw you. Four whole days that feels like years. I miss you and I can’t wait to see you again.
I don’t know if you will ever get these letters, but I hope you do. I hope you get them before we see each other again. I have no idea where you are… Or if you have even come to look for me.
Have you?
My old house has been abandoned. We had to. We knew The SS would come looking for me to report to that camp and my parents made me leave in a hurry.
We left early in the morning, two mornings ago. With all the clothes that we could possibly stack on top of our bodies, we left the apartment. I wore about ten different outfits on my back to make sure I still had clothes. I have no idea how long we are going to be in hiding for. My mother hid all of her jewelry in a bag in the waistband of her skirt in order to still keep it. We knew what would happen if the Nazis found us leaving the apartment without permission.
Since we had to get rid of all of our transportation, we walked two miles to our hiding place in the de
ad of morning in hopes of not running into a Nazi. We each carried one bag, filled to the brim, of our personal stuff. The stuff we couldn’t leave behind. The stuff we knew the Nazis would want.
In our hiding place, I doubt we would need our china plates. My mother packed them out of spite to make sure the Nazis wouldn’t get their greedy hands on them.
I’m sorry, that’s rude considering you’re the nicest Nazi I have ever met.
Please don’t hate me.
Your loving wife,
Anya
Chapter Five: Anya
I can never tell if the footsteps or if it is my heart beat is what makes me jump at night. Maybe my heart beats are in sync with the methodical boot stomping outside.
I can never tell. You would think that after six months of being in hiding, I would know the difference. I don’t.
I lie awake in bed waiting for sleep, the sweet reprieve from what has become my reality of what hiding has meant. Anything to make me feel like a normal person and not some church mouse hiding in the attic of the pharmacy where I used to volunteer at.
Before Mr. Wolowitz was forced to close his business seven months ago, I volunteered. He held onto his family’s pharmacy with an iron fist up until the Nazis set fire to a barrel of garbage and then threw it through his window. Ever since then, Mr. Wolowitz hasn’t been seen around and we all know the attic of his pharmacy isn’t well known to the outsiders.
Hence, why we are hiding here.
It’s been five months since we entered the attic of the old pharmacy. Of course, the Nazis were quick to empty out the old medicines and get rid of them. We don’t know what they did with the medicines, but I can imagine they either threw them away or are using it for the war.
Every night, the Nazis march up and down the street below me, hoping to find someone who knows where those despicable Jews are. They make a huge production over what they are doing. Holding guns and strolling the streets with the purpose of getting rid of all the low life.
