Beneath This Ink Book Novels & Stories

Left a streak on my skin. Dark as ink. Darker than blood. No name. No crest. No return. But somehow, it was mine. And I knew,knew,this thing didn’t belong to the house. Didn’t belong to this life. I should’ve woken Milo. He was down the hall. Close enough to call for, far enough not to hear. But I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. I broke the seal with my nail and unfolded the letter inside. The handwriting was elegant. Sharp. Each loop looked like it had been carved, not written. The ink wasn’t black,it was red. Deep burgundy.

The girl said. “Same here. I actually thought that this book wasn’t popular but you’re reading it as well. Oh, I’m Kayne by the way, Kayne David.” “I’m Natsumi Koga, it’s nice to meet you!” “Ah yes, you as well. I was actually about to ask if you always come here.” Kayne asked. “Uhuh, I always go to this café every time I go to town, this is actually kind of my spot, haha.”

It's a free book. Please, give a chance to my other books on Goodnovel as well and follow me on I*. It's the same penname wellmindelysian. You can get updates about my new stories there. Thank you again.

said Audrey while putting it on the coffee table in front of them, “the ink disappears.” “Frank’s girlfriend, isn’t she working the strange stuff? Could she look at it? It’s probably nothing, but I have a bad feeling about this,” said Lizzy. “I’ll call Frank. Stephanie’s boyfriend might also know something, they work in the same field.” Lizzy handed her the cordless phone, and Molly dialled Frank’s number. “Is Coralis with you?” “No, why? I can try to reach out to her if you need.” “I’m at Lizzy’s. I don’t know how to explain this, because it makes no sense. Audrey received a letter where the ink only appears when she touches it, and we’d like Coralis to look at it. She works the strange stu

Another thing I was sure of was that it was only a matter of time before they found out where I'd been spending my nights. I lay in bed, the soft sheet wrapped around my naked body as I watched Angus. He sat with his back to me, his head bent on a desk as he scribbles on a scroll, his brow tightened with concentration. Every once in a while, he would raise his head to dip his quill into the ink. His fingers would tighten around the quill and he would continue. Soon, I was lost staring at him. The way his muscles tightened, his black wavy hair, his glistening back, the elegance he used in holding the quill. And, at that moment, even though we were only miles apart, it felt as if we were mete

was currently written on a hard file locked inside the Chief of Medicine’s private vault. ​Xielle closed her eyes, trying to imagine a life where she wasn't a secret, where Zeke didn't have a high-society fiancé, and where the word future didn't feel like a beautifully gilded threat. She didn't know that inside her, a tiny, four-month-old heartbeat was already echoing the rhythm of her own—a permanent, unyielding link to the "monster" she thought she had successfully left behind.

He laughed, dropping his box onto one of the tables. The lounge was usually empty during morning lectures, which was exactly why Professor Ellis had let us use it to sort donations before the event next week. Books covered almost every flat surface. Mystery novels sat beside biographies. Romance books had somehow mixed with history textbooks, and Benito had already started making ridiculous commentary every time he picked one up. He held up a crime novel. "This guy definitely did it." "You haven't even opened it." "I can tell." "You're impossible." "I've been told."

The "Hard Reset" was a wall of white light that moved with the speed of an editor’s eraser. In the Author’s Study, the infinite bookshelves began to "Bleach," the titles of a thousand "Norths" vanishing into the grey static. The Author himself was unravelling, his "Ink Black" eyes turning into two hollow voids of "Cancelled Narrative."

I skidded to a stop and padded closer, shifting back to human form as I stood before the oak tree. There it was, driven into the thick trunk was a silver knife. My brow furrowed. There were only one set of people who would ever dare to send silver to a werewolf residence. Those damn Hunters. My hand reached for the hilt, and I pulled it out cleanly. A folded note was pinned beneath. I unfolded it, the paper coarse beneath my fingertips. Just five words, written in sharp, deliberate strokes, Return what you stole My eyes turned hard and my jaws clenched painfully.

Here in the upstate sanctuary ink touched paper with a clear impact. Elena stood over the assembly table. She was checking the printed pages of a new book written by one of the collective's youngest members. The black ink looked good on the cream-colored paper. There were no hidden tracking devices in these pages. There were no data-mining cookies. It was a book built to last. Julian entered the print room. He carried a box of letters. He wore his work shirt with sleeves rolled up. His simple gold wedding band shone in the light. He put the box down. Looked over Elena's shoulder at the freshly printed page.