Beneath This Man Book Novels & Stories

I stared at the man who had sworn to guard my spirit beneath the moon, who had placed the mark now pulsing weak and cold. I surrendered to darkness. The bond would be dead.

Instead of words, I gave him a weird smile-panic hybrid, spun around, and walked straight out the door like I was fleeing a murder scene. I muttered a curse under my breath—and walked right into something hard. No—someone hard. I blinked up at him. A strong chest. A black hoodie. A very judgmental smirk. A sharp scent hit me first — cologne, leather... and smoke. He barely flinched. “Damn,” he said. “That bad, huh?” I looked up into the smuggest face I’d ever seen. Lip ring. Cigarette dangling from two fingers. Hood up. Eyes too pretty to belong to a jerk.

– he gestured to me – "picked it up and handed it to me. That's all that happened." I felt a surge of relief, grateful that the man was corroborating my story. But as I looked at Damon, I saw the skepticism still etched on his face. "I see," Dylan said, his eyes narrowing. "And can you tell us more about this book? What's its significance?" The man hesitated, looking around the room nervously. "I...I don't know what you're talking about," he said. Dylan's eyes narrowed further. "Don't play dumb," he said. "We know that the book is more than just a simple book. What's its significance?"

Nikolas turned to look at the other slightly taller man with fabulous long legs, he felt his breath catch before he spluttered in coughs, those eyes, those dark eyes trapped him in a quicksand he didn’t struggle and was pulled under falling endlessly into a pit, Nikolas prided himself as a man that could read anybody, but this man his straight back and strong arms told a story of a man that had gone through troubles, but he could not read anything else about the man, as if he was a walking corpse. The cold that was bone deep chased everyone else, and it was only the two men beside him who didn’t notice or didn’t care. Nikolas felt a shiver down his spine and wondered where he kept his coat B

Some disguised as concern. Elara answered only what mattered. She did not explain herself. That unsettled them more than anger would have. At one point, a man said, “You seem very calm.” Elara met his gaze. “I’ve had time to think.” “That can be dangerous.” “So can ignoring reality,” she replied. The man laughed awkwardly and stepped away. Damien leaned in. “You’re doing well.” She murmured, “I’m doing honest.” There was a difference. Later, they stepped outside into cooler air. The shift felt immediate.

I had to tilt my head back hard to look up at their faces. The man had a mean hard face. He had a deep, jagged scar that ran from his temple down the side of his cheek. He was wearing dark, dirty clothes and he smelled like old cigarettes and sweat. His eyes were cold and completely empty, I knew immediately I had never seen this man before in my life.

AVA’S POV It made me wonder if this man ever smiles or had a reason to in his life. “I live with a man who had businesses with dangerous underworld bosses and you expect me not to know how to curse?” A dry chuckle rumbled out of my chest. I was seriously out of my mind. After everything that has happened, it wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t lose my mind. “You’re too innocent to curse..” Vincenzo walked past his brother and me, heading to the entrance door, his phone in his left hand.

He moved differently this time, more certain, as though yesterday’s visit had already decided today’s. I watched from the counter as his fingers settled on a thick volume: Underground Wars. Interesting. First, unmasking. Then, walking through the dark. Now, the hidden battles beneath it all. His preferences were drawing a map. Not of fiction, not of leisure, but of intent. He carried the book to his usual corner, settled into the chair, and began reading like the rest of the world didn’t matter. Glasses slipping down his nose, posture harmless. Harmless was a costume. His books told me otherwise.

Cars coasted through puddles left by an earlier drizzle, and storefront lights spilled out onto the sidewalks like amber veins. Celeste stepped out of the corner bookstore, her arms full with a new read and a warm drink. Her charm bounced softly at the end of her bag, catching a glint of neon light as she turned down the next block. She kept her head low, her pace casual. The crowd helped her disappear. That was part of why she liked it here—being no one in particular. Across the street, a black car pulled up and slowed to a stop in front of a private entrance only a few knew existed.

Gwen asked her. Maya sighed. "Maybe books are not for me after all," she said as she huffed out air. "Miss, what are you looking for? I have all kinds of interesting books," the man under the umbrella said warmly. "From fantasy, love, down to true and historical romance," he added with a smile as he brought out stack of books from under the stall. "I have it all, Miss," he said, smiling widely.