Absolute Dweller Novel Novels & Stories

CARLA The midday sun poured through my bedroom window, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor. The warm light did little to thaw the chill that lingered in my chest. Since the attack, the pack house had felt more like a gilded cage than a home. Dawson’s orders were clear: I wasn’t to leave until the rogue threat was neutralized. It was protective, I knew that, but it was suffocating too. There was a soft knock at my door before it creaked open. Dawson stepped inside, his tall frame filling the space effortlessly. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and the tension around his eyes told me he hadn’t been sleeping well.

I’ll take it up with them later. “Don’t hate Ezra for it, he’s young. All three of them still have a lot of growing up to do. So, you already know where I’m from. Tell me about yourself. What’s your den like?” Looking at his smooth, caramel skin and his jet-black hair. I’m pretty sure I already know, but I need to get this conversation off of me. Dawson looked down at his coffee before answering me, “I live about an hour north of Green Ridge. It’s a large den, but we mostly stick to ourselves.”

DARIUS’S POV The safe house was a total wreck, just a fourth-floor walk-up in a part of the city the Wolfes didn't even care to own. It smelled like rusty heaters and wet wool from our soaked coats, but right then, it felt like a palace. I threw the last deadbolt and slid the chain home, and the second that metal clicked, the adrenaline that had been keeping me together just vanished. It left me hollow and heavy, like I was ready to drop right there on the floor.

He was probably right. The elevator doors opened onto the penthouse. The space was minimalist, cold, silent. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated one wall, revealing the city sprawling beneath us. The furniture was black and modern. There were no photographs on the walls, no personal touches, no evidence that anyone actually lived here. Dwayne walked in like he owned the place. His backpack landed on the sofa. "Shoes off," I said. "I know." "No running." "I know." "No coffee." He froze mid-step. His small body went rigid and he turned to look at me. "…You noticed?"

Daniel sorted, reclassified while Eleanor dusted the bookcases in question and reshelved the newly Deweyed books in proper order. Sometimes they talked as they worked: Eleanor learned about Daniel’s childhood in Canada, the source of his imperviousness to New England winters, and Eleanor confessed her frustration with her lack of ambition. She wanted, in theory, to do more than work in a bookstore but was so happy, most of the time, with him that she couldn’t bring herself to make any sort of profound change. “Contentment can be the enemy,” Daniel agreed and he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. “But don’t worry. Life, death, or an act of God will eventually intervene. Enjoy the

~Darius POV~ The city pulsed around me like a living thing, all concrete veins and neon blood, but inside my apartment on the fifteenth floor of a crumbling high-rise in downtown Chicago, I was king of my own shadowed empire. Darius Kane, thirty-four, software engineer by day, architect of forbidden fantasies by night. The skyline glittered through my floor-to-ceiling windows, but I kept the blinds half-drawn, letting in just enough light to chase away the ghosts without illuminating my secrets.

Avery realized that these people could live peacefully together when there were no benefits to be had. She came across an online novel by chance and browsed through it a few times. She wasn't too interested in tombs being stolen. Then one day she went to the bookstore to look up information and suddenly found the online novel on the bookstore's best-seller shelf, in the most conspicuous position.

Adelaide smiled faintly, lifted her water cup, and took a sip. This harmonious atmosphere was truly pleasing. She tried her best not to dwell on unpleasant matters. Celebrating Christmas at the palace, even a hint of sorrow was inappropriate, and she had long grown accustomed to suppressing her emotions. They were discussing Melinda's mate, Dwight—a prideful werewolf who had taken in two breeders. One was a call girl from the red-light district, exceptionally beautiful, for whom Dwight had paid a $300,000 breach of contract f*e. The other was the daughter of a businessman. It was said she became Dwight's breeder due to her substantial personal wealth, and it was this breeder who had covered

A putrid smell of burning flesh filled the room. There was a loud crack in the doorway and Auger entered with two Slaves squirming in his arms. A short and stout white dwarf wearing green wellington boots and a dark brown dwarf wearing an old tea cosy like a hat that had fiery red ladybugs printed all over it and a black leather collar on his neck, a mark of his servitude. "You must be Kranky." The dirty dwarf with the wellington boots started to plead. "Forgive me, great leader, forgive me."

“As will yours.” He stood in her apartment on Eidolon, the old man from the bookstore, sauntering toward her. “This building,” he said, looking toward the ceiling and then her bedroom. “So many unfinished stories. So many books.” He looked at her. “You know you can actually see this building on the people who tell their tales here?” Glancing back to the door. “And that? My coming in? This Eidolon’s my forever friend. There’s no locked door for me here. I can follow the scent right to you.” A small laugh. “Obviously