Book Warrior Novels & Stories

I spotted a few prestigious business awards, several academic accolades, and even a humanitarian recognition. The big bad mafia lord was a nerd in disguise, a genius even. I was impressed, so much so that I strolled over to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Philosophy, economics, psychology... Xavier's reading list was eclectic and intimidating. I pulled out a worn leather-bound book, "The Art of War" by Sun Tzu. He had read this multiple times. I sank into Xavier's high-backed chair, feeling a little too comfortable. My legs crossed on the desk in front of me. I ran my fingers over the cool wood.

A/N :- The 'Flames of Obsessiveness second series' consists of 10 books, including three stand-alone novels. You can explore my profile for the three Stand-Alone books from the second series. This second series continues the stories of the children of the Kashyap, Grey, Miller, Rathore, and Khanna from the 'Waves of Possessiveness first series'. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •Book 1) His BLIND REVENGE Tropes :-

“Because from this day forward, they’ll see you as what you are.” “What’s that?” “My Luna. Their Luna.” I hesitated, then smiled against his shirt. “Then you better start preparing them. Because I’m not exactly the soft, smiling kind of leader.” He pulled back just enough to tilt my chin up. “Good. Because I didn’t fall in love with soft and smiling. I fell in love with a warrior.” “A blind warrior.” “A warrior who sees more than anyone else.” I bit my lip. “You’re going to make me cry.”

“Same job. Just a fancier title to make you feel better.” He clutched his chest like she’d stabbed him. “Excuse me? Warriors are the backbone of the pack. Bodyguards stand around holding doors—warriors fight wars!” Penelope gave him a slow once-over, unimpressed. “You? Fight wars? You look like you’d sprain your wrist opening a pickle jar.” Colin made a noise halfway between a growl and a gasp. “I’ll have you know—”

I watch him pass me and note the lettering on the back of his cut. Nightmare Warriors.

* Alpha Archer * I could feel the slight tremble of my land beneath the march of the Southern warriors invading. Even before I saw them crest the ridge, I smelled the scent of their blood, the iron, sweat, and the musk of wolves bred for war, not honor. Alpha Douglas's banner split the horizon like a wound, black and crimson snapping in the wind, his warriors flooding the valley as if they meant to drown the West in numbers alone. But I never felt afraid; I am ready to take them on!

My best friend Allen, Delta Heir, is already branching out into the Healing and Magic arts and its application to technology. My goal as a pack member is to become a warrior. Because I grew up chubby, that doesn't apply to me but guess what? As I said, I always carried a mean right hook with me. My weight just adds power to it. And with all the training I had received since joining the Gamma Warrior program, I could keep my shapely body and build strength and stamina.

If he continues like this, we're going to lose him. The beta sighs, and the warrior returns with a crowbar at that moment. - Great idea, man. – the beta says, with a smile. It's a little violent but super effective. The warrior appears to grow 10 inches with the compliment and immediately uses the tool, forcing the door to open. Thank you. I will be grateful. Remember, don't say a word about this. Please get back to your post before they notice you're missing. The warrior bows and returns to the top of the stairs.

A young man stood near the entrance of a damaged bookstore. He couldn't be older than twenty-five. Tall. Dark coat. Silver eyes. Something about him felt familiar, though she was certain they had never met. The stranger noticed her looking. Instead of looking away, he walked toward her. Most people would've been nervous approaching a hunter carrying a holy sword. This man wasn't. "You are Evelyn Cross." It wasn't a question. She narrowed her eyes. "Who are you?" The man smiled slightly. "That answer depends on how much truth you want."

My tongue felt heavy while the taste of that copper-honey blood coated the back of my throat, ensuring I didn't feel like the girl who had been crying in the silk sheets an hour ago. The warrior across from me stopped laughing. He was a Gamma, his frame thick with the kind of muscle that only comes from decades of guarding the border, and as he shifted his weight to grind his boots into the sand, he looked at me and then at the sword Duke had handed me before I walked out here. "Let me be direct with you, human," the warrior said, tightening his grip on his own blade until the leather wrap creaked under his palm. "I will be soft on you, because I don't want to damage the skin before the Alph