Adult Mystery Books Novels & Stories

Braxton was right. There was something about this mystery woman that I couldn't quite place my finger on. I took in her almond green eyes, framed by thick coal-black lashes, and they were mesmerizing the very second they had met my gaze, and it had felt like every ounce of blood in my body had rushed to my cock. Lust had blasted through me with an alarming force, leaving me a little shaken. Something that had never happened before.

Fuck, she makes me feel everything. "It is indeed a good morning," I say wrapping more of her wild hair around her ear so I can see her face better. "Sorry, I fell asleep," she says. I'm not sorry. I didn't want to get into her Dad's allegations last night and even though she wasn't happy about it she asked me to read her the book she had grabbed off my book shelf. One of my favorites. It's a mystery novel about two mates who find each other while they are both trying to catch the same serial killer that's on the loose.

"They have, ever since she was born." Cassandra set the little serpent among the piles of gold coins. The creature sagged in defeat and exhaustion after lying before that terrible fire. "There it is," Vasilisa's voice came from behind a mountain of walnut-sized raw rubies. It wasn't hard to find the book. It was placed on a golden stand in between two golden Sirin statues. The grimoire turned out to be the largest book Cassandra had ever seen, with pages made of parchment illuminated with tracery, and it was open to a page thickly covered with elegant, intricate writing.

"You got something, Blackwood? Because right now, 'ritual killer' is all we've got, and that's not exactly narrowing the suspect pool in a city this size." "The wounds aren't made by conventional weapons," she said carefully. "And the positioning of the bodies suggests knowledge of old religious practices. I have contacts who might help identify the symbols." Rick glanced at her, surprise briefly crossing his features. In three years as partners, she'd never mentioned specialized contacts. "Do it," Mendoza ordered. "And keep it quiet. Last thing we need is panic about satanic cults or whatever the hell this is." If only it were that simple, Casie thought.

“Then it’s not just showing me what’s happened. It’s showing me what will.” Theo reached beside the table again and pulled out a second item from the leather folder. It was slim, bound in deep red linen, the corners worn with time. He hesitated before handing it to her. Her breath caught the moment she saw the title: The Crimson Letter By Isla Ward She stared at it, her hand hovering. “Where did you get this?” “I found it last year,” Theo said quietly. “Tucked behind the books in the library’s upper shelf. I didn’t know what it was at first. Just that it felt… wrong.”

It was here, amidst the hushed whispers of knowledge, that Jasmine’s life took an unexpected turn. She had come to return a book, a first edition of Pride and Prejudice that her grandmother had gifted her. It was irreplaceable, a piece of her family’s history, and she’d been meticulous about keeping it safe. But in her haste to grab a book on the top shelf, she’d accidentally swapped it with someone else’s. When she realized her mistake, she’d already left the library, and the book she’d taken home was not hers. The book she’d ended up with was a first edition of The Great Gatsby, its cover embossed with gold lettering.

"I'll be back at noon for lunch. Prepare us something this time," he said. I sighed as the door shut behind him. I sank on my bed, staring at the ceiling. The texts were becoming something else, Levi was acting weird, and the house was feeling weirder. But, hey, at least I'm getting $1,000 a month. Another text came in, not from the anonymous texter, not from Levi or Nightshade but a totally different number. “Atticus is alive.”

he warned, his voice low as he stepped even closer, making my chest tighten. “I know that. Why were you calling me?” I asked, finally meeting his gaze, though my breath was still uneven. “There’s a new inmate,” he replied, turning and walking away, his tone calmer now. “Really? We got another troublemaker?” I scoffed, a faint smirk forming as I followed him, my curiosity creeping in despite myself. “Who is he? Another shoplifter? A petty thief? Or some small-time criminal?” “In for murder. A mass murderer, to be exact,” he answered flatly.

Just past the first turn, she realised there was no house, no village in front of her, only a long stretch of whiteness bordered by snow-powdered hedges without a telltale rise in smoke in the distance. She didn't dare look up again for a long while. Time lost all meaning as she walked onward, her cheeks stinging, then without feeling, as hints of eventide crept in behind the melancholy December sky. It was then that Betty murmured an almost forgotten prayer from her childhood……...a little something to her guardian Angel begging an entree to paradise. ………………………….. She awoke stretching contentedly. Staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, it took her a few moments to determine where she was, but

It all started in the summer of 2018, with the mysterious disappearance of the two wealthiest men in Seattle. As written by Seattle Daily, “An unidentified body was found in the apartment of the richest most eligible bachelors in Seattle, The Hudson brothers who at this point are presumed the main suspects in this investigation whose whereabouts are currently unknown..”