Atticus Books Novels & Stories

Atticus There was a knock at the door. Sighing, Atticus stretched his long legs out under the table. His office was smaller than his father’s, and he’d filled the shelves and surfaces with books – books on strategy, books on war – and rolled-up parchments that he’d pull out when a meeting was boring him, flicking idly through the reams of paper to drown out anecdotes of past pack negotiations. Still, the room stretched before him as the unexpected knock startled him from his thoughts.

No girl in Ironside had captured my attention like Kodessa, and I was drawn to her by force I did not understand. As we entered the village gates, we heard a commotion. Our three-year brother Atticus came into view with our mother trailing behind. Atticus was completely nude, holding his beloved bear Tubbs in his left hand. “Atticus Grey, you stop right there”, Mother scolded as she bent down, trying to catch her breath. “Ha, gotcha “shrieked Fleki as he grabbed Atticus by the shoulder as swung him up onto hip. Tears flowed down Atticusś cheeks, and his bottom lip dropped, devastated by the fact his brother had captured and betrayed him.

I left Aaron for the meantime on the part where the fountain pens are to go to the novel section. Since I saw Sophie Lark's Brutal Prince on TikTok's recommendation, people who have read this say that it has a strong female lead. I enjoy books of that genre, therefore I may be interested in reading it. I looked at the shelves. I also picked up a book and read the synopsis on the back when Aaron came to me here. "You like reading books?" he asked. I turned my eyes on him, "Uh, sometimes. If I'm interested in the plot," I answered.

I was a rogue, someone who was supposed to take the hits, but why had I been so unjustly wronged? Mara is a rogue too, yet nobody despises her. With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I eventually drifted off to sleep. I was roused by the faint chirping of birds combined with the sound of a running shower. The night had been so peacefully restful after a long time that I didn't want to stir. I was still in bed, stretching, when the bathroom door swung open, and Atticus emerged, clad in a black dress shirt and black pants. His hair was still damp, with only a few strands clinging to his forehead. No one would ever guess that this handsome man concealed such an ugly beast within.

I calmly sipped my tea while observing Liora. I even smiled at her to show I didn’t care. Her expression grew colder as she glared daggers at me. I found it amusing but couldn’t understand how Atticus could be attracted to such a troublesome woman. No wonder he told me someone needed to humble her. Suddenly, I realized Atticus was trying to protect his assets. Perhaps he had realized Liora wouldn’t be a long-term partner who would share his hardships. Since he had started hiding his interests, he must be preparing for something.

The room mirrors Silas's in size and layout, but where Silas's sheets are black, Atticus's are blood red. Atticus is seated at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he's been waiting for this. His dark eyes drift up, locking on mine the second we enter. He perks up and a slow, smug smirk tugs at the corner of his lips like this is some fucking game. I'm going to wipe that smirk off his fucking face.

There were some points to solve before the great war that everyone is waiting for. I was sitting in the sisters' garden, there were many roses and flowers of all kinds which gave me peace and tranquility. I stretched my legs because after being bent for a long time I did not feel them behind my back, I feel a presence so I turn my head. head and relaxed a little when seeing that it was the previous vampire - Atticus - he says to which I frown - my name is Atticus, not a vampire. -Do you read my mind?- I see him shrug his shoulders.

“Have her moved to the second floor. It would seem my queen favors her.” His queen, he says. I would laugh, but I have none of that left in me, so I stay still, watching Raya and the guard leave, watching him walk across my room and retrieve a piece of cloth, with which he wipes my cheeks gently. Atticus confuses me on some days. The thing about psychopaths that makes them deadly is their unpredictable nature. He would backhand me when necessary, roughen me up, and then tend to my injuries with such gentleness, it is hard to believe those hands belong to a monster.