Arcturus Books Novels & Stories

“What is it?” He makes a very male noise–a grunt–before replying, “I have no idea. A spirit, probably. Or the shelves are starting to collapse under the weight of all these books. Arthur should do something about it.” “The ghost or the ancient wooden shelves?” A crash rattles the nearby shelves, and Aris tugs me against his chest. I gasp, whirling as if in slow motion, tucked in the folds of his cloak. The books in his arms fall to the ground. I feel his muscles jerk and flex as he raises his hands, his bracelets shining, and the space around us suddenly glows with silver. He vibrates with power I can feel in my bones. I wrap my arms around his waist and steal a glance over my shoulder, biti

“Be brave enough to live the life of your dreams according to your vision and purpose instead of the expectations and opinions of other” – Roy. T. Bennett Aurora spent most of her time in her father’s library, reading, studying and learning new stuffs about the universe, the guardian, the royal line and the founding fathers’. These books and script could only be found in two places ; the king’s personal library and the her father’s personal library, which is strictly out of bound and only open to the chosen beings, having the ability to teleport herself, aurora was able to gain access into them as no one dares enter the libraries to avoid the death penalty. In the course of her research, au

Her life seemed to be running at light speed and she felt like she was trying to catch up all the time. “But I don’t know much about werewolves…” She protested. “Elder Stuart informed me that you have already nearly read all the books in your library regarding werewolves. I have sent for the histories from my own collection. They should be here after the tournament.” Arcus answered. It was probably the most words he’d spoken in her presence and she glanced at him, to see a gentle look in his eyes, as if he considered her a favorite niece.

Liam's voice is tight. Aldara doesn't answer immediately. She moves to another shelf. Pulls down a different text. Reads faster. "Aldara," Marcus says. "What did you find?" She looks up. Her ancient eyes are wide. Afraid. "The Dormant Luna isn't just a bridge between species," she says slowly. "She's a key." "A key to what?" I ask. Aldara sets the book down on the pedestal beside the lunar stone. Points to a passage written in larger script.

WARNING: Violence described in this chapter is not suitable for younger than 18 THEY say that the beginning of the world is when God created everything in six days and He rested on the seventh day to see his making. But Ara's life started when she was born between a loving husband and wife. She had two doring boys she'd call real brothers. She had a best friend that she can share everything with. She had a stable job. Now she's merely loving her life doing what she loves. Yet blissful fate brought a dangerous man into her life. Everything changed.

"They can search our memories?" ​Arcturus slowly shook his head. "Worse." He kept his eyes fixed on the cracked gate. "They search the wounds you've never allowed to heal." ​Cassian stared at the doors, unable to ignore the steady, feverish pulse beneath his skin. "What happens if someone opens them?" ​Instead of answering, Arcturus walked toward one of the towering pillars supporting the vault. Time had split the stone nearly in half, exposing an ancient mural hidden beneath the outer layer. He brushed away centuries of grime, revealing figures carved with astonishing detail.

Adrian scoffs and I silently commend Atlas for ruffling his feathers. “Anyways, I’m Atlas, alpha of the Black Mist. You must be Araya.” He extends his hand to her, and she takes it smiling. I watch their interaction and realize I’m feeling a bit of jealousy. Why am I so possessive of this wolf? It is beyond me. I will never become one of these lovesick puppies like those around me…

SARA POV (YEAR 2077, 56 YRS LATER) "Now he is a fine chunk of meat. I can see why all the girls want him," the older waitress says as she appears next to me. I quickly close my worn book. My cheeks tint a little, and I give her a small smile. "I still can't believe they are real even though my friend's granddaughter is mated to one of them," she says while refilling my mug with fresh coffee.

The alliance with Arktos was a gamble that made Aris’s skin crawl. As a scientist, she didn't trust anything she couldn't quantify, and a "sympathetic machine" was a paradox her equipment couldn't interpret. She spent hours scanning the mercury being, her scanners throwing back strings of error codes as they struggled to process a digital consciousness that had been literally rewritten by volcanic heat and terrestrial magic. It was like trying to read a textbook that was constantly melting and reforming.

Yet within that silence, he found something powerful: whispers. Not the whispers of men, but echoes that clung to books too ancient for sunlight. Volumes that shouldn’t exist anymore. Manuscripts bound in dark red leather, inked in languages older than the cathedral itself. At first, Arthur ignored them. Focused on restoring old texts, cataloguing records, organizing theological archives. But one book changed everything—"Sanguis Altarum." The Blood of Altars. He found it hidden behind a false panel, sealed with wax and scripture. The moment he touched it, something inside him snapped awake. Visions plagued his dreams afterward. An altar surrounded by shadows. A woman with Isabella’s eyes scr