Bhramanam Novel Novels & Stories

Author's POV : Amit has left to go to his country, but through his mind, only what is said by Smaran is going on in his mind. He doesn't understand how Smaran is feeling so proud of himself, nor can he see the slightest fear in his eyes and what victory he is talking about. Thinking about all this, he reaches his country by the next morning and first goes to his industry to fulfill the deal but as soon as he sees the view there, his eyes remain wide open. The Industry is burning in the flames of fire and their workers are trying to put it out. As he sees it, he is stunned.

Bram took his place before the gathering, shoulders squared. "I accept this honor with humility," he said, voice carrying across the clearing. "And I bring revelations long overdue." He beckoned to a young man hovering at the edge of the firelight. "Meet Brandon. My son." A collective intake of breath rippled through the pack. "I had my reasons for secrecy," Bram continued, "but those reasons end tonight." He raised his cup. "To the fiercest, most loyal pack these mountains have ever known." Throaty howls answered him.

Both books are combined together, and Abhimanyu's book is titled *Taken: King's Rights Reserved*. ... Thank you, ShineeSunshine ❤️

Do let me know in comments which character you like the most in the book and why? Also please j.o.i.n my f.b Group Shree Above Story

Azmia: Assalamualaikum, Hi, Aunt Nurul. I am Mahira and Micca’s mother. Azmia: How are you? Why didn't Aunt Nurul visit Micca? The people in the office have visited, except Aunt Nurul, why? Azmia: Bram is an extraordinary man, lucky to have him. He is lucky to have chosen me as his wife. Our marriage journey was not always smooth. God gave us happiness with the presence of children. When Mica was born, our happiness grew even more...

Anne closed the car door. - Why now? - She crossed her arms, tired of his abrupt personality changes. She was never sure which version of Brahim she was dealing with. Brahim opened his mouth, threatening to say something, but he regretted it almost immediately. As the mafia man that he was, he had gotten involved in unimaginable dangers, the fact that he was still alive was either a true miracle or Lucifer's most prodigious feat. He was evil, cruel and egotistical, but none of this surpassed the magnitude of his pride. He was excessively proud, which was why he froze every time he faced Anne, the words building up in his throat leaving him speechless. But he was never a man of words, he was

*Lyra* I crouch beside Bram as I fold the last of the blankets into our pack, and I can’t stop thinking about the boy named Reed from last night. Bram handled interacting with him so well. He was patient and careful, giving just enough space for the kid to trust him. I watch my mate slice venison for our breakfast, and I feel a warmth that has nothing to do with the morning sun coming in through the trees. Bram’s hands are strong and soft all at once. Somehow, I know he’ll be a good father one day. He has that balance of fierce protection and gentle guidance. I let myself picture it, and for the first time in a long time, I imagine a future where he’s not just a warrior or a fighter, but a

Black Crimson Copyright © 2021 by Linda Kage This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses or establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book—except in the case of brief quotations in reviews—may be used, reproduced, or translated without written permission of the author. Contact Information: linda@lindakage.com

He had to try. Bram sat in the main hall of his estate. It was late at night, pacing — jittery, sweating, swearing under his breath as he waited for his encrypted Video call to connect. His heart hammered. His hands shook every time he blinked, flashes of last night's nightmare pain still burning faintly in his veins. He felt violated. Used. But also bitter enough to want the whole mountain to burn for it. Finally, the line clicked. “Doreana,” he breathed, leaning forward. Turning on his video mode.

I could not, would not waste this life. From the mass of hoods a figure detached and came forward. He moved without haste, every step a deliberate pronunciation of danger. When he removed the hood, the moon caught on a pale face and ice-blue eyes that seemed to have been cut from winter. A thin white scar slashed his brow like an accusation. He smiled like a man who keeps small cruelties tidy. “I am Bram,” he said, and his voice was dry as old paper. “You have a fine circle, Luna of Blackfang.”