Book Delicate Novels & Stories

She stared at him, still silent. Kaelan cleared his throat and reached into the inner pocket of his cloak and pulled out the gift he had commissioned in Asheville. A silver dagger, beautifully crafted with intricate patterns of vines and moons etched along the blade and hilt. The metal gleamed under the fading light, sharp and elegant.

The man standing in front of him was far more beautiful and alluring than he had imagined him to be. It was lingerie. A seducing, see through lingerie. Reaching just at his hip bone. Not even at his thigh. Just as Cyrus wanted it to be. Noodle straps and closed with just a silk ribbon. He gulped hard to look down at the panties. Strapped with beads. Pearl beads shimmering in dim lights as Denzel shifted on other foot. The front was hardly covering the bulge prominent through the silk fabric. And the back...

Her breath left faint ghosts on the surface of the polished glass table before her. The ledger lay there. It wasn’t a device, not a file, not anything belonging to this era of screens and encrypted servers. It was a book. Bound in something too smooth to be leather, too pale to be paper. The cover had a subtle sheen, the way skin does under candlelight, and when she lifted it, its weight felt unnatural—dense in a way that suggested it was holding more than pages. It was the kind of weight you only feel when you’re holding a body.

The furniture was as heavy as she remembered it: carved of dark oak, a rarity known as “Black Forest” Leila’s gaze drifted to the buffet. The two doors were fashioned with crafted glass and lead binding. Within lay an ornate decanter, flanked by whiskey glasses and a lonely Champaign flute with a chipped rim. The Delft plates lined the top shelf, their blue and white pattern still vibrant, and the inscription around the rim in ancient Gothic font still a mystery.

He moved with her, efficient and steady—two parts of him that made a good counterpoint to the way her mind sprinted to possibilities. They stepped into the back yard. The air was thin with the last of afternoon sun and the smell of cut grass. Celeste set her bag on the ground and unwrapped the linen parcel she had kept beneath the bed. The Hellebore lay within: cold, perfect, a dark edge that always carried the scent of river iron in her memory. She did not pick it up in the way hunters hold weapons; she cradled it like a tool whose use required promises.

Esrath: “Okay.” I get up and brush my hair as I throw on my mother's Prom Dress that was a navy-blue cocktail dress that had an ombre affect to it, I threw on my black laced heels that went about my knee; I applied lipstick on my lips that were chapped but took it off to apply chap stick on them to soften them up, I then applied the plum shaded lipstick to my lips. My mother had given me her pearl set which included a pearl and Saphire bracelet and earrings that were laced with gold streaks, it also had a pearl necklace that was also laced with gold streaks in it and had real diamond shards inside of them. I then put some deodorant on and applied the Beyonce perfume that smelt like rosebuds

“You’re punctual.” “You don’t strike me as someone who likes to be kept waiting,” I said. He smiled faintly and stepped aside. “You learn quickly.” The townhouse smelled faintly of cedar and smoke. There were books everywhere — real ones, not the kind people buy to look intelligent. A grand piano sat near the window. The fire crackled quietly. He led me to the dining room, where two glasses of wine already waited. “I wasn’t sure you’d come,” he said. “I wasn’t sure I would either,” I admitted.

He was a gentleman and so soft towards her. "Where is Ms Butler?" Christian asked when he saw Sebastian dragging the serving trolly towards the kitchen when the butler replied, "Ms Butler is enjoying her time in the balcony." He walked to the balcony seeing the little girl was laying on the sunbed, her shoulders covered with a little cotton shawl and a glass of juice in her hand. Christian knew Amelia wasn't really fond of drinking. He liked this about her. She was a simple living girl. No fanciness in her lifestyle, no expensive clothes or jewels or attitude.

A basket of freshly baked rolls, their crusts golden and their insides soft and warm, sits ready to be enjoyed with pats of creamy butter. To drink, a decanter of chilled white wine stands at the ready, alongside a pitcher of cool, clear water infused with a hint of mint and lemon. Lady Brook and I each have a delicate goblet and a simple, elegant plate, our cutlery finely polished and waiting to be used. I clear my throat before I tell her, “This is a lot more than I expected, Lady Brook. I thank you for your generosity. But after the execution I witnessed, I find myself with little appetite.”

Ecca’s legs shivered upon feeling his lips over the sensitive clit. [Book title: Marked by the demon] - Available on Alpha-n0vel