Best World War 2 Novels Novels & Stories

Wow. I was drooling. It wasn't just a room with books. It was a sanctuary. Floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with hardcovers, a rolling ladder, a massive fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in decades. The scent of old paper and leather hit me, comforting and familiar. I ran my finger along the spines. ‘The Art of War’, ‘Sun Tzu’. ‘Histories of the Roman Empire’. Biographies of kings and conquerors. Heavy stuff. Interspersed with them were fiction classics. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Dumas.

I cried out in pain, in a desperate attempt to save my life. “You should have thought twice before plotting against Fenrir and me,” Damien growled and pushed me to the wall. I collided against the wall, my face covered in blood, could barely see anything. I wiped my face with my hand, and finally, I saw a sword on his bed. Rushing to his bed, I picked up the sword and charged at him, driving the sword through his stomach. I pulled the sword out, and Damien’s lifeless body fell to the ground. I stood there, my bloody hands trembling. “I just killed an alpha.”

He would have, right? I shook my head again and concentrated on the book placed on my lap. It was one of the British, historical romance fictions set during the World War Two. I had randomly picked it up at the bookstore and somehow felt myself drawn towards it. Sappy novel with mopey dialogues and dragged out bits, it still provided me with much needed solace.

I like taking my time, that way, I can get used to the idea of living with Xander. Sitting behind the counter in the bookstore, I listen to Vincent talking to his cars while I place an order for new books. One of those books is The Art of War by Sun Tsu. I want to read it and see why Alexei loves it so much. My thoughts turn to the BBQ, and I must admit, I enjoyed it a lot. And Rosemarie was right. Everyone seemed pretty normal. I don’t know what I expected. Maybe guns and men smoking cigars while plotting the end of the world?

Maurice walked ahead as I scurried behind him, gazing around at the unending land of graves, "Growing up, my grandfather would tell me stories, about how people started to go missing in a bulk 50 years ago, the police had no leads, and when no one was coming forward with information, one after the other the cases became cold, and the public became outraged, started a fucking world war, end of the fucking world," he chuckled with a snort, looking back at me who was fighting to keep up, I was growing weaker and weaker with every step I took, "Why? Why were they fighting?" I swallowed hard, "Instead of trying to figure out where these missing people are?"

They took off like shadows slipping between trees. We searched the cliffside, but the rancid odor drowned out everything. Hours passed. Rage and hopelessness battled in my chest until Jesse’s voice cracked through the link: ‘Alpha—behind the falls. A cave. Tunnels. Old ones. We found canisters—full of feces and blood. Same damn scent.’ My heart plunged. We knew those tunnels. Every royal did. They were the hiding places of women and children during the Great War. An inside job. Someone who knew our history. Someone who wanted to defile it.

Several soldiers who had overheard their conversation immediately began whispering among themselves, clearly interested. “Hey, how long has it been since they last dueled?” “I want to see this.” “Steven’s definitely going to lose this time.” “I agree. Zach’s got the advantage. Otherwise, why wouldn’t Steven accept his challenge?” One soldier commented excitedly, “Whoa, this is going to be the most interesting duel ever.” “Huh? What’s so interesting about it? They duel all the time.” The soldier shot his friend a disdainful look. “Hey, you really don’t get it, do you? They’ve both been promoted to War Commanders. If they duel now, it’ll be their first duel since receiving those titles. Isn’t

For a few minutes, she had enough time to reflect on her short-lived life. "If only I could live inside my novels, I would be happier than I was today." The line went taut. The struggling was no more. The voiceless storyteller has found her salvation with her eyes closed.

Lyra and Alexander witnessed the scene a little horrified, it was not pleasant to see that old man die in that way, but it would serve as proof that, when entering this hostile world of war, death would be a permanent companion on each of their journeys. And so, both set off on their journey to the village, along with a few surviving werewolves. They were very tired, so they needed to treat some of their wounds to survive, otherwise, they would follow the same path as the vampire king. Especially Alexander, who was badly injured, so when they arrived at the

The figure gestured for them to enter. The figure’s voice hissed and crackled like a campfire in the wind. The voice of the figure was that of several women talking at the same time, their tone high and raspy. Outside, a storm was brewing, a low rumble of thunder and the flash of lightning illuminating the sky. The world fell silent for a fleeting moment, then exploded with the power of the heavens. Reina and Russe stepped cautiously inside the cabin, their eyes adjusting to the dimly lit interior. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.