Al Jackson Books Novels & Stories

Jackson says as he starts to look at the other books. “So, helping Jessica was, okay?” I ask for clarity. “I would suggest yes. You did not lose your wolf, and you are still alive. I would say that was a good save,” Carleton says with a small laugh. Jackson scowls at him, “No more using those powers,” he says as he finds the chapter he is looking for.

It sounded like a threat. Throwing those three words at Jake, she rushed to her room, leaving the speechless parents of her and Jake in a daze. When she came back, there were at least ten books barely balanced in her arms. Ryder laid out the books on the floor and looked at the covers of each one of them with shaking hands. Every single one of them had the initials J. S. C. written on them. And on the first page where the details about the books were written such as the editor or the publishing house, under the word "Author" was written in capital letters: JAKE S. CALEY.

Jake thanks Milo as they shake hands before I handed him his phone. “You’re so cool, man.” Jake complimented. “Oh, thanks bro.” Milo answers with a smile. “I hope your sister will love it.” “She will. For sure.” Jake responds. “Anyways, Jake do you have a class?” I asked. “Yeah, seven-thirty. Running late actually.” Jake responds calmly. I nodded, “Around eight.” “Ooh cool.” Jake responded. “Well, I gotta get going now. It was nice seeing you around Lindy.”

He looked content, sleepy, and safe. "It’s perfect," Serenity whispered. "It is," Jackson agreed. "Except for my sore back." "Actually, it's about to get better," Margaret’s voice chimed in from the corner. Jackson stiffened. He knew that tone. Margaret walked in carrying a heavy, leather-bound book. It wasn't the Element Journal. It was something far more dangerous. "The Photo Album," Margaret announced, placing it on the coffee table with a thud. "The years 1990 to 1999."

Street vendors sold jewelry, wooden carvings, candles that smelled like rain. At one stall, I lingered over a silver necklace—a crescent moon wrapped in vines, delicate and beautiful. “Like it?” Jackson murmured in my ear. “It’s gorgeous, but—” He already had his wallet out. “Jackson!” He grinned, unashamed. “Let me spoil you.” His fingers brushed my neck as he fastened the clasp. “I like making you smile.” The metal felt cool, but his touch burned. Next was a tiny bookstore that smelled like old paper. I watched Jackson run his fingers over the book spines, his expression serious, almost tender.

I won't be embarrassed anymore. Arriving back at his, we walk in quietly. I don't understand how he got into all this, all the BDSM and the business. He doesn't look abused or broken. Sure, he is heartbroken, but that was clearly after he was involved in it. His eyes are watching me. “What are you thinking, Alena? You have that look where you are considering something.” Jackson's voice is quiet. I guess I will explain.

There was still a long time before nightfall. “Would you like to have some snacks? I can make some for us.” “That's great!” Her face brightened at once and words couldn't describe the joy that etched on her face. We set out of the room at once, quickly moving towards the kitchen. “It's been a while since you've been here with Jackson, right? What do you know when you're bored?” “Nothing much. I have a large collection of books that I made Alpha Jackson buy for me, and those are what I read whenever I'm bored.”

“She’s here. Ayla, you have betrayed your Alpha and your pack. Do you have any idea how serious this is?” I swallowed hard, my throat dry. “I—I didn’t mean to deceive anyone,” I stammered. “I just—” “There is no excuse,” the council leader snapped. “Being an omega is not something you hide. You knew exactly what you were doing.” “I was afraid,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “Afraid of being treated like nothing. Afraid of not being given a chance.” “Enough,” Jake said sharply, finally looking at me. His eyes were cold, devoid of the warmth I had once thought I’d seen there. “You’ve done enough damage.”