Atticus Bookstore Novels & Stories

Atticus raised an eyebrow, his eyes going between the clothes in his hand and his mate's face. “So I take it you don't like my wranglers and plain white t-shirts?” Harris looked at the clothes in Atticus’ arms and then at the clothes in his own arms and rolled his eyes. “Never mind, they'll fit,” Harris said as he walked toward the register. Atticus opened his mouth to protest and then closed his mouth and pressed his lips together. After a moment a small smile formed on his lips and he shook his head.

[Lily] Call it a moment of weakness or maybe a chemical reaction that caused a rush of stupid lust, but I met Atticus behind the gym. It was a stupid move, since again, it is a place where nobody can see us. Anything can happen behind the gym, which is why it is such a popular rendezvous for lovers. Atticus and I are not lovers. Not even close. And we never will be as long as Evie is breathing down our necks and I manage to maintain even the smallest amount of self-respect.

Atticus said as he reached the end of the aisle and opened the last doors. Atticus's heart broke when he stepped into the cell at the end of the aisle and saw an Omega dragon unconscious. He carefully picked him up and gently draped him over his shoulder before walking into the cell across from that one. He picked up as many as he could and carried them out of the building. It took him many trips, but he didn't stop until he had each and every one of his people out of those cells and lying in the grass, away from the building.

I squirmed in my seat because the gaze on me was getting uncomfortable. Atticus hasn’t said a word since we stepped foot in the restaurant that was located in the company building. The restaurant was way better than most five-star restaurants I had been to and I am sure that the staff here never went outside to eat because I wouldn’t if I worked here. It was a nice thing to know that Atticus loved to eat here. It was a positive thing and it would make his staff see him in a good light though I don’t think he cares about their opinion of his person since he had that air around him.

Since Atticus was willing to take care of it on his own, he was happy to leave him to it. Atticus slumped down into his chair in a decrepit manner as he listened to Jackson’s car drive away. He went into a momentary daze then pulled out his phone and dialed a number, “Bernadette Legrand’s contact details, please. Thank you.” … At 8PM, Atticus and Bernadette met up at a French restaurant. It was a reunion between old friends, but the sentiment from their past was long gone. Bernadette was no longer Atticus’s young and naive student.

I growled under my breath, veering back to look at the strip center. Then I saw it. Betty's Books…24-hr bookstore. A honk sounded from behind me. The light was green. I pulled into the turn lane, whipping a u-turn and pulling into the parking space. I got out, stepping into the empty storefront. It wasn't unusual. Who would go to a bookstore at 9 PM on a weekday? Me. That's who. The shopkeeper popped up behind a stack of books on the front desk. "Hello! Welcome in!"

I found him so cool whenever he shared his faith with the whole family. I marched right up to the bays and handed my card to a teenager cashier at the counter to make a purchase. She was wearing a cute and tiny hairpin on the left side of her ear, her above shoulder-length black hair made her even more gorgeous. "Hello, Miss Astrid! It is good to see you here again." She cheerfully greeted me while placing my books on a paper bag printed with the name of the shop. "Hello, Marianne! Are you done with your class already?" She is the daughter of Mrs. Williams, who owned this bookstore.

he explained. “You don’t worry that she will expose you?” Wyatt asked. Atticus smiled, showing the slight wrinkling of his eyes, “Many humans are a risk to our kind, but not Genivieve. She knew right away something was different about me. She was smart, but kind, asking all of the right questions, and one day, she just let me know she knew I wasn’t a human. She had all sorts of people from all walks of life come through her shop and I guess she had figured out who was who or what,” he chuckled, “She’s lovely with the children. She’s like a grandmother to them.”

If this was a trap, better one of us fall than both. He'd argued. Of course he'd argued. But in the end, he understood. Some doors only open for one person. The bookstore was called "Between the Pages." A narrow storefront on a quiet street, windows fogged with salt air, a hand-painted sign creaking in the wind. I stood across the street for ten minutes, watching. Trying to see if this was real or another layer of the game. Then I crossed and pushed open the door. --- The bell above the door chimed softly.