Novels by Grace Kara

The past will always be there” Eli said, standing up and brushing the dirt from his hands. “But it doesn’t have to own you. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, Maya. Don’t waste it looking back.”That night, as I lay beside Ben in the small room we shared, Eli’s words echoed in my mind. I stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows dance in the dim light of the lantern, my thoughts a tangled mess.Ben shifted beside me, his arm brushing against mine. “You okay??” he asked, his voice quiet in the darkness.I turned to face him, my heart heavy but full of something I hadn’t felt in a long time—hope. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I think I’m starting to be.”He smiled, his hand finding mine under the covers. “Eli’s a smart guy.”I laughed softly. “Yeah he is.”We lay there in silence for a while, the warmth of his hand grounding me, making me feel like maybe, just maybe, things could be okay.“You ever think about the future?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.Ben was quiet fo

I glanced at him, wiping sweat from my brow. “Yeah. It’s peaceful.”He gave a small nod, his focus still on the soil. “Peace is hard to come by these days. Harder to hold onto.”I knew what he was getting at, but I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t ready to talk about it. Not yet.Eli didn’t push, but after a few more moments of silence, he added, “You’re still carrying it, you know. The weight of everything that happened before.”I clenched my jaw, my hands pausing in the dirt. “I don’t have a choice.”“There’s always a choice,” Eli said quietly. “The past can burn you if you let it. But the future is what you make of it.”I stared at him, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. I wanted to argue, to tell him he didn’t understand, that he couldn’t possibly know the kind of guilt I carried. But then I remembered what he had told me that night by the fire—. that he had been part of Project Inferno, that he had helped design the weapon that burned the world.If anyone un

The mornings at Eli’s farm were quiet, the kind of quiet that felt almost sacred in a world like ours. No distant gunfire, no grim-faced survivors shouting orders, no smoke curling from the ruins of a settlement. just the soft rustle of wind through the crops, the occasional lowing of a cow in the distance, and the steady rhythm of our footsteps as we worked the land. The air smelled of earth and life. It was a stark contrast to the acrid tang of burning metal and ash that had seemed to cling to me for years.Here, the only smells were simple ones: the sweetness of hay, the faint iron tang of soil on my hands, and sometimes the sharp, almost medicinal scent of the herbs Eli kept hanging in the barn. It had been weeks since Ben and I arrived, stumbling through the farm’s weathered gates with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the weight of our pasts. I hadn’t planned to stay. I wasn’t even sure what had driven me to keep walking after the settlement fell apart. The idea of s

As we ate in the flickering firelight, I couldn't help but marvel at how normal it all felt. Almost like the world hadn't ended, like we were just travelers stopping at a kind stranger's house for the night. But as the evening wore on, I noticed a change in Eli's demeanor. He became quieter, more thoughtful, his gaze lingering on us in a way that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "You two've been through a lot," he said finally, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us. It wasn't a question. "We've seen our share," Ben replied carefully, his spoon pausing halfway to his mouth. Eli nodded, leaning back in his creaking chair. "I've seen a lot too. More than I'd like, truth be told." He paused, seeming to wrestle with something internal. "I wasn't always a farmer, you know. Before The Burning, I worked for them. The government. I was part of something... something I'm not proud of." My heart stuttered in my chest, and I felt Ben go still beside me. We'd

As we got closer, the outline of a small farmstead came into view. It was nestled against the edge of a narrow stream— miraculously still running —and surrounded by a patch of what looked like actual crops. Corn, maybe, or something that used to be corn before the world ended. The sight of growing things, of life persisting despite everything, made my throat tight with emotion."Look at that" I whispered, almost afraid to speak too loudly and break whatever spell was keeping this place alive. "Actual plants. Growing. How is this possible??"Ben shot me a cautious look, ever the pragmatist. "Could be a trap. You know how some groups operate. Make something look too good to be true, wait for desperate people to come running.""It could be," I admitted, remembering all too well the stories we'd heard about such things. "But I don't think we have much choice. We need water, and this place looks like it has it. Besides, if it were raiders, they'd probably have worse security. This place

The wasteland stretched out before us, endless and desolate, a s ea of cracked earth and skeletal trees marking the landscape as a constant reminder of the world we had lost. Despite the harshness of it all, there was something oddly freeing about being out here, away from the settlement and the ghosts of the past that haunted its walls. Out here, it was just Ben and me, two souls trying to carve out something new in the ruins of what had been.Our footsteps crunched against the dry dirt as we walked, the horizon shimmering with heat in the distance. The sun hung high and merciless in the cloudless sky, and the only sound was the wind cutting across the plains, whipping at the tattered edges of our clothes. My muscles screamed with each step, my throat parched and raw, but there was a strange kind of peace in the rhythm of walking. One foot in front of the other. Keep moving. That was the only way to survive in this broken world.I glanced over at Ben, studying his profile as he wa

The soft ligh of the full moon bathed the gardens in silver light as I stood by the fountain, my fingers trailing through the cool water. six months. Six months had passed since the final battle, since we'd driven Cassandra into exile and brought peace to Shadowfang. Sometimes it still felt surreal, like a dream I might wake from at any moment.I touched the silver necklace at my throat, the one that had belonged to my mother, then Adelne. Though the pain of losing my sister would never fully fade, I'd learned to carry it differently now. The weight of it had transformed from a burden into a reminder of why we fought so hard for peace."There you are." Roman's deep voice came from behind me. Even now, after all these months together, his presence still sent a shiver down my spine.I turned to face him, drinking in the sight of him. He'd foregone his usual battle-ready attire for something softer, a simple black shirt that clung to his muscled chest and dark pants. His dark hair was

"It's beautiful." I breathed, leaning against him as we stood among the moonlit flowers. "Stay with me." Roman said suddenly, turning to face me. His eyes were intense, vulnnerable in a way I rarely saw. "Not as my healer, not because of duty or prophecy. Stay because you want to. Because this— us, it's real." My heart thundered in my chest. "Roman..." "I know I fucked up." he continued, his voice raw with emotion. "I know I hurt you, and I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make that right. But Belle," he cupped my face in his hands, his calloused thumbs gently stroking my cheeks "I can't imagine my life without you in it anymore. These past few days, watching you lie there so still... it nearly broke me." Tears pricked at my eyes as memories flooded back, Adeline's sweet face, the anger and pain that had consumed me after her death, the way I'd lashed out at Roman. But I also remembered his patience, his gradual transformation from the cold Alpha to the man who h

My eyelids felt heavy as consciousness slowly returned, like wading through a. thick fog. The familiar scent of herbs and healing balms filled my nostrils, mixed with something else— something distinctly masculine and comforting that made my heart flutter. Roman. I blinked several times, adjusting to the soft candlelight that illuminated the infirmary. My body ached, but it wasn't the sharp, devastating pain I remembered from channeling my Lunar Soul powers. This was more like the dull throb of healing muscles, a reminder that I was still alive. "Hey there little healer." Roman's deep voice came from beside me, rough with exhaustion but warm with affection. I turned my head to find him sitting in a chair next to my bed, his large hand enveloping mine. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his usually neat hair was disheveled as if he'd been running his fingers through it repeatedly. His clothes were wrinkled, suggesting he hadn't changed in days. "You look terrible," I managed to

The sight of him hurt, bloodied and struggling, triggered something deep and primal inside me. Heat surged through my chest, different from the destructive power I had felt earlier. This was something new....something pure. Without thinking, I raised my trembling hands and reached toward him. Light. Bright and blinding. It flowed from my fingertips, enveloping Roman in a golden glow. He froze for a moment, his head snapping toward me in shock, but I couldn't stop. The light wrapped around him, seeping into his body, and as I watched, his wounds began to knit themselves together. The gashes on his face closed, the blood disappearing as if it had never been there. Roman’s eyes blazed with renewed strength, and he let out a roar— half-wolf, half-man— as he turned back to Cassandra. "NO!!!!" Cassandra shrieked, her voice high and panicked. She lunged at me, her movements wild and desperate, but Roman was faster. He intercepted her mid-leap, his massive jaws closing around

MIRABELLE ---------I collapsed to my knees as Lucien's body disintegrated, the power draining from me like blood from a mortal wound. My entire body trembled, my hands shaking violently as I tried to steady them. The taste of copper filled my mouth, sharp and metallic, but satisfaction coursed through my veins like a balm to my soul. Adeline had been avenged.The weight of her death, the endless nights of guilt and grief, lifted from my shoulders— if only slightly.But the cost was high. I could barely breathe, barely think, as the energy I had summoned to end Lucien left me hollow. The wind carried the acrid scent of blood and ash, the battlefield around me littered with bodies of rogues and allies alike. It was chaos, pure and unrelenting, but I couldn’t bring myself to look away from the spot where Lucien had stood moments before. There was nothing left of him now— just ash swirling in the cold air."Belle!"Roman’s voice cut through the din, sharp and commanding, but tinged w

Through the mayhem, I caught glimpses of my pack fighting with everything they had. Elijah, my Beta, was a blur of motion, his massive gray wolf ripping through rogues with deadly precision. Fenrir, the once-mistrusted rogue who'd proven his loyalty time and time again, stood guard over the infirmary entrance where Belle worked. His hulking form was a wall of muscle and fur, and any rogue foolish enough to approach him was quickly dispatched. I spun, dodging the snapping jaws of a rogue before sinking my teeth into his throat. His gurgled scream was cut short as I tore him apart, my wolf howling in triumph. But there was no time to revel in the kill. More were coming. "ROMAN!!" Cassandra's voice cut through the carnage like a blade. I turned, my eyes narrowing as I spotted her atop a pile of bodies, her silver hair matted with blood, her eyes wild with hatred. She was in her human form, her slender frame deceptively fragile-looking as she surveyed the battlefield with a cruel smi

As I came down from the high, I became aware of Damien watching me with naked hunger. "I want.... to taste you," I whispered, surprising myself with the admission. His eyes widened fractionally, the only sign of his shock at my requestb. "Angel, you don't have to— " "I want to," I insisted, sliding off the desk to kneel before him. "Show me how.... to please you." For a moment, I thought he might refuse. Then he nodded once, his hand gentle as he guided me. "Start slow," he instructed, his voice strained with restraint. "Use your tongue first." I followed his directions, exploring this new intimacy with curiosity and growing enthusiasm. The taste of him, the weight on my tongue, the way his breath caught when I found a particularly sensitive spot—all of it was intoxicating in its novelty. When I finally took him fully into my mouth, his hand tightened in my hair, not forcing but anchoring himself. "Christ, Angel," he groaned, the rare profanity telling me more about his pleasure

I had no answer that wouldn't reveal too much of myself. Instead, I did the only thing that made sense in that moment, I rose on tiptoe and pressed my mouth to his. Unlike our previous kisses, this one began gentle, almost questioning. His lips moved against mine with careful restraint, letting me set the pace. But when I parted my lips in invitation, something snapped in his control. His arms wrapped around me, hauling me against his chest as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that matched my own. I threaded my fingers through his hair, marveling at how soft it felt despite its controlled appearance. He walked me backward until I felt the edge of his desk pressing against my legs, his body caging mine against the solid wood. "Tell me to stop," he murmured against my lips, his voice rough with desire. "If this isn't what you want..." "Don't stop," I breathed. "Please." The plea broke his remaining restraint. He lifted me onto the desk in one fluid motion, stepping between my le

The tension between us was unbearable during the ride back to the estate. Damien's declaration, ' You're mine' — echoed in my mind, both thrilling and terrifying me. His hand remained possessively on mine, thumb occasionally brushing my palm in a way that sent shivers up my arm. Neither of us spoke, the silence filled with unresolved questions and unspoken desires. Marco kept his eyes carefully forward, though I caught him glancing at us in the rearview mirror once or twice. I wondered what he thought of this arrangement that had clearly evolved far beyond its original parameters. When we arrived, Damien escorted me inside with his hand on the small of my back, a touch I was becoming familiar with, even dependent on. The mansion felt emptier than usual, with Rosa having taken Izzy to a doctor's appointment in the city. "I'll be in my study," Damien said, his voice formal again as we reached the grand staircase. "Take some time to rest. Today was... eventful." I watched him retr

The possessive declaration should have triggered every feminist alarm in my body. Later, I'd examine why it had instead sent a thrill of something dangerously close to longing through me. For now, I stood silently beside Damien, aware of every patron and staff member watching the drama unfold.George's hands clenched at his sides. "You think you've won Salvatore. But I know Angel. She needs more than your money and your cold bed." His gaze shifted to me, suddenly gentle. "When you remember what real love feels like Angel, call me."With that parting shot, he stalked out, leaving uncomfortable silence in his wake.Damien's hand returned to my back, his touch steadying. " Are you alright?"I nodded, not trusting my voice yet. The confrontation had left me shaky, caught between anger at George's presumption and confusion over my reaction to Damien's territorial display.Elena approached, her expression a masterpiece of false concern"Oh my god, Angel! That was intense. Are you okay?""F

"Oh my god!!" Elena squealed once he was out of earshot. "Richard Knight wants to see your work! Do you know how many artists would kill for that chance?" "It's probably just courtesy," I said, slipping the card into my pocket. "Don't be stupid" she chided, linking her arm through mine and leading me toward the staff room. "This is your chance to establish yourself independently. You know, so you're not just Damien Salvatore's arm candy." The barb stung more than it should have. "I'm not arm candy." Elena's expression softened into faux sympathy. "Of course not, honey. But let's be real - your engagement happened awfully fast after your divorce. People talk. Having your own career would shut them up." I disentangled myself from her arm, anger rising at her manipulative concern. "I don't really care what people say about my relationship." "You should," she persisted. "Especially since —" The gallery door chimed, cutting her off. We both turned to see George striding in, d

ANGELINA ~ The gallery had become my sanctuary over the past few weeks - the one place where I could exist as simply Angel, not Damien Salvatore's fiancée. I loved, loved losing myself for hours arranging exhibits, researching artists, and occasionally sketching during quiet moments. Today, I was cataloging a new shipment of sculptures when Elena's excited voice broke my concentration. "Angel! You won't believe who just walked in," she said, practically bouncing with excitement. I looked up from my inventory list to see her barely contained enthusiasm. Despite learning of her betrayal the previous day, I'd forced myself to act normal around her, following Damien's advice to 'keep your enemies closer.' The words still tasted bitter in my mouth each time I smiled at her, but perhaps it was my fault for asking Damien to help her get a job here, after she'd claimed that she'd been fired. "Who?" I asked, feigning interest. "Richard Knight," she whispered dramatically.

"I don't know how to do this," I confessed. "How to be here without you. How to wake up every morning knowing you won't be there. How to go through all the fucking motions of living when you're gone."I traced her name on the headstone, the letters cold and unyielding beneath my fingers. "But I promised. And you always said I never break my promises."It was true. In our decade of friendship and the few months as more than friends, I'd never once broken a promise to Sam. No matter how small or seemingly insignificant, if I said I'd do something, I did it. She'd trusted that about me completely."So I'll try..." I whispered. "I'll go to MIT like we planned. I'll build those robots we talked about. I'll look after Midnight."The mention of the cat brought a fresh wave of pain. Sam had rescued Midnight three years ago, a half starved stray who followed her home from the bakery. He'd become her shadow, seemingly aware of her illness in the uncanny way animals sometimes are. He'd curl up

The quarry stretched before me, a gaping mouth of darkness swallowing the last traces of daylight. I folded Sam's letter carefully, tucking it into my jacket pocket, and walked to the edge of the cliff. Forty feet below, black water lapped against jagged rock, the same water where Sam and I had swum naked under the moon.I closed my eyes, feeling the emptiness yawn inside me. It would be so fucking easy. One quick turn of the handlebars, one moment of acceleration. Then nothing. No more ache. No more waking up to a world without her in it.I turned back to Persephone, my hand running along her sleek frame. Sam had named the motorcycle, claiming that since she sent me to the underworld regularly with my reckless driving, Persephone was the only appropriate choice. "Queen of the Underworld," she'd said, tracing the curves of the gas tank. "Beautiful but dangerous."Like Sam herself.I swung my leg over the seat, feeling the familiar vibration as the engine roared to life. The headlig

Sam's handwriting filled sheet after sheet, some portions written in her neat, careful script, others in a more hurried scrawl that I recognized from her bad days when breathing was difficult and concentration limited.{ My dearest Shade,If you're reading this, I'm gone. (Sorry for the cliché opening, but there's really no good way to start a letter like this)First, I want you to know how much I love you. Present tense, because even though I'm not there anymore, my love for you doesn't end just because I did. That's not how it works. Love doesn't disappear, it transforms. Maybe into memory, maybe into starlight, maybe just into the person left behind who carries it forward.I know you're angry right now. Angry at the world, at the disease, maybe even at me for leaving you. That's okay. I'd be furious too. Be angry. Throw things. Scream at the sky. Curse my name if you need to. I won't be offended, I promise.But don't stay there, Rafael. Don't let the anger harden into something per

I considered telling him to go fuck himself, but the energy required seemed immense.Instead, I refilled my glass and followed him back into the living room.The next hour passed in a blur of meaningless conversations. I accepted condolences, nodded at stories about Sam, and drank steadily from both my glass and the flask. The alcohol dulled the edges of my consciousness but did nothing for the hollow ache in my chest."You doing ok?" Dr. Aaron asked, appearing at my side as I stared blindly out the back window."Fantastic," I replied flatly.He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know there's nothing I can say. Just... we're all worried about you.""Don't be." I took another drink. "I'm fine.""Rafael — ""She suffered," I interrupted, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "At the end, she was in pain. Even with the morphine. You didn't see it because she hid it when you were there, but I saw. I was there all night, every night. I heard her crying when she thought

I didn't cry during the funeral. Not when they lowered her casket into the ground. Not when May completely broke down during her eulogy. Not even when Midnight, who I'd somehow smuggled into the cemetery inside my jacket, escaped my grasp to paw at the fresh dirt covering Sam's grave.I felt nothing. A vast, echoing emptiness where my heart used to be.The cemetery was packed, Sam had touched more lives than she'd ever realized. Her classmates, regulars from the bakery, even teachers who remembered the brilliant girl who'd never let her 'asthma' hold her back. Dr Aaron stood stoically beside his wife Karen, who kept shooting concerned glances my way. Damien hovered nearby, uncharacteristically subdued in a borrowed suit. Jennifer had closed shop for the day, bringing her entire staff to pay respects.Even Marcus showed up, standing at a respectful distance with red-rimmed eyes. I couldn't bring myself to hate him anymore. Not when I'd seen his genuine grief when the trial medication

By the time I finished, tears were streaming freely down my face. Sam reached up, brushing them away with trembling fingers."That's the most beautiful thing anyone's ever written for me," she whispered.I shook my head, unable to speak through the knot in my throat."Rafael," she said, her voice suddenly stronger, demanding my attention. "Look at me please.."I met her gaze, those brown eyes still so vibrant in her pale face."I need you to promise me something.""Anything," I repeated, meaning it completely."Live," she said simply. "Not just exist. Not just go through the motions. Really live, enough for both of us."I started to shake my head, but she pressed a finger to my lips."You can do it," she insisted. "You're the strongest person I've ever known, even if you don't see it. Promise me you'll try.""I promise," I whispered against her finger, the words a covenant I wasn't sure I could keep but would die trying.She smiled then, soft and sad and somehow peaceful. "I'm tired,