Boondocks Reading Novels & Stories

The sandalwood scent of the old book waffled in the air. “Yes. It is about three hundred years old.” Xander confirmed. “I asked Alpha Agrawal.” “Wow! I can’t believe I am holding something that’s three hundred years old.” I repeated a sense of wonder filling me as I turned the pages, finally stopping at one particular spot. The words were etched in an archaic dialect, which I never learned. Their meaning flowed seamlessly into my understanding. Xander rested his face against my neck, a patient presence as I navigated through the text.

Not until he felt alert again—felt that he could stil captain if the need arose—would he return to Lonesome Dove After supper, when Call left for the river, Augustus, Pea Eye, Newt, Bolivar and the pigs repaired to the porch. The pig nosed around in the yard, occasionally catching a lizard or a grasshopper, a rat snake or an unwary locust. Bolivar brough out a whetstone and spent twenty minutes or so sharpening the fine bone-handled knife that he wore at his belt. Th

The other seemed to teased up by the statement. "Have mercy on me God!" the other spoke up sounding fearful.Two of them walked with caution searching for an invisible danger. The moved closer murmuring audible prayers. They passed by lost in precation. I looked back at them watching them closely. They words brought curiosity. Turning left, I went searching for Ebere.

A boy stood on a stool and read Clause 3 to a dog. In the afternoon, letters arrived with contradictory politeness. The Council of the River offered a room by the ferry slips for wet-weather witness and a nail to hold the hinge. The foundry foreman who had tried to sell light as mercy sent a bolt of red cloth without a note; Minta turned it into towels and declined to interpret. Rooke’s matriarch sent a second list of phrases to be deployed against men who mistook charm for law.

She cut herself and held out her hand in the air, so the blood dropped into the sacred bowl. " Hold your hands together so the cuts meet," he said. I turned and faced her, her pretty face was a charm on its own and I found myself struggling to concentrate. I stretched out my hands to her, she did the same and placed her cut palm on mine. A spark was felt and I knew she felt it as well. The fire began to burn so well. Our wolves began to collide and I was struggling to breathe. It seemed the two wolves were trying to become one and we were the ones being affected by it.

Upgraded to life. *** Barry sent a video from his mate-marking. Watching him smile with his mate, I broke down. After everything—every sleepless night, every heartbeat of fear—I'd finally saved myself. New name. New city. Sunshine all year. My pup slept peacefully in the crib. I rocked it slow and hummed softly.

“You brought friends. How thoughtful.” Declan didn’t wait for the pleasantries to run their course. He moved first, closing the distance to the nearest guard in two strides, disarming him with a brutal economy of motion — a strike to the wrist, the gun clattering free, a knee driving up into the man’s ribs before he’d even registered he’d lost his weapon. I was already moving myself, ducking under the second guard’s swing and driving my elbow into his throat, following through with a knee that dropped him to the floor gasping.

The taste of her lips, the feel of her skin, the sound of her quick breaths, everything made his wolf growl with want. She clutched the sheet, torn between shyness and the pull of the bond. “Mine,” his wolf rumbled inside him, pressing against her soul. Her own wolf answered, “Yours.” That single word broke the last wall of hesitation. Her heart raced, her body trembled as he slid into her. She let herself sink into him fully. Their wolves danced within them, pushing, urging, driving the fire higher. The world outside faded. There was only them, their bond, their wolves, their hearts beating as one.

When it was time for her to go to bed, she insisted that I be the one to read her a bedtime story, and I was like the damn Grinch with my heart growing three sizes as I read to that little girl and helped Nessa tuck her in. After the rest of the kids get sent upstairs to bed, Nessa’s parents join us in the living room, cuddling together on one of the couches while Nessa and I sit side by side on another. Mr. Diaz sips from a glass of amber-colored liquor, watching us thoughtfully as he strokes his wife’s shoulder with his thumb. “So what are you two going to do about the mate bond?” he asks, swirling the liquor in his glass. “We, uh, haven’t really talked about it,” Nessa mumbles, lacing her

“I won’t get another chance, at least not for a while.” “Be my guest,” Barbara answered watching as the kids saw their former storyteller. They all cheered and rushed to her, hugging her and talking at once, forgetting the library rules of no talking. Sandra smiled happily to them as she led them to the carpet in the corner and took up her seat. She accepted the book one of the children handed her, a book they had been reading in class. Sandra smiled and turned to page ninety of Huckleberry Finn and began reading. Creighton arrived a short time later, followed by Papa and Nana. He immediately recognized his wife’s lilting tone and smiled as he watched her reading to the children. She looked