Boundstories Novels & Stories

Am I crazy for being angry? My thumb scrolled through my contacts. Killian. Caleb. Camille. The office assistant. Three different corporate caterers. Aurelia’s pediatrician. My hand began to shake as the list ended. I scrolled back up. Then down again. There was no one else. A sickening wave of vertigo hit me, harder than the revelation of the subsidized contract. I had no friends. I had no old college roommate to call, no childhood confidante, no one outside the heavy, iron perimeter of the Montclair empire. In the name of protecting me from my father’s creditors, in the name of healing me from the Moretti trauma, Killian had quietly, systematically severed every thread that connected me to

William sat down on a chair feeling dizzy. "How can Mr. Sullivan take Mr. Knight's side when they are rival companies? I cheated on Knight company thinking this Mr. Sullivan will give me extra profit as I harm his business enemy " Mr. William asked his assistant. "Sir, Mr. Zachary Sullivan, and Mr. Demon Knight are best friends. They studied at the same school, same college and then same university. But on their graduation day, something happens and they broke their friendship become enemies. When they both joined the family business they have become rivals but still, they never tried to harm each other" His assistant said and Mr. William disconnected the call immediately.

In the deepest shadows, where whispers of desire danced upon the air, the goddess Navana, a radiant embodiment of love and beauty, found solace in the arms of a mortal man named Theron. Their clandestine union kindled a flame that burned with an intensity beyond mortal comprehension. Amidst stolen moments, hidden from the prying gaze of the divine, Navana and Theron surrendered to the depths of their love, weaving a tale of passion and longing. It was during one such clandestine encounter that the fruit of their devotion was conceived—a baby girl, born of a love so pure it defied the boundaries of their separate worlds.

They organized community gatherings, workshops, and shared activities that nurtured bonds and created a sense of belonging. One such initiative was a storytelling project that invited individuals to share their personal narratives in a safe and supportive environment. The stories flowed like a river of emotions, carrying with them the power to heal, inspire, and ignite connection. Through the act of storytelling, Nathan and Miranda witnessed the magic of vulnerability—the courage to share one's truth and the deep resonance it found within others. The impact of their efforts rippled through the city, creating a sense of interconnectedness that transcended individual experiences. Strangers bec

she added without waiting for a reply. "Aunty hand bag , go and read your books. I wonder how you will pass your exams"Her mother bawled. They talked for what seems like forever before Hussain entered his mother's room. He greeted her happily. "Hussain, why didn't you tell your wife about the journey" his mother scolded him.

A portion of the sun peeked through the big mountains, gracing rich yellow rays down the busy Town Square. Vampires wearing gray cloaks passed from houses to houses, whispering rumors about the king’s death. One of them even said he caught an incurable disease from the mortal realm, and they would soon be infected with it. From there, another vampire would spread the information, possibly adding some spice in the story until the truth had been buried by a wild variation of lies.

But damn if we didn’t fit. Later that night, after bottles were warmed and lullabies hummed in the dark, I found myself lying in bed between them. Luca’s fingers played gently with mine. Matteo’s snore was a low rumble against my chest. I smiled. Tomorrow, there would be another mission. Another deal. Another name that needed silencing. The underworld hadn’t released its grip on us — not fully. But tonight? Tonight, we were just… home. Just us. Bound not only by vows or duty, but something that ran deeper. Something that was more permanent. We were bound by blood. And lies.

Now Stormfang’s own Beta lay poisoned. “She’s human,” an older man muttered near the stairwell. “Maybe the bond was never blessed.” “You saw what she did during the raid.” “I saw her save children. I also saw wolves die because enemies wanted her.” Fear did not require logic. It only needed enough frightened mouths repeating the same possibility. I slipped into the abandoned storage chamber and pulled the door almost closed. Two women stopped in the corridor outside, their voices low. One of them was crying. “My mother told me stories about rejected bonds,” she whispered. “About what happens when the goddess binds what should never have been joined.”

His hand clamped over mine again, tethering me to him, a promise of survival, a lifeline in a forest that had become a predator of its own. The shadow lunged again, claws raking through the air, and we rolled, ducked, fired, moved, weaving through the chaos with a rhythm that was ours alone, synchronized through instinct, trust, and the raw bond that had formed between us. Sparks ignited the underbrush, flames coiled around toppled trees, the acrid stench of smoke and charred wood filling our lungs, yet Kenneth remained my center, my anchor, my tether to life, and in the ferocity of the moment, amidst bullets and fire and impossible predators, the memory of our first kiss pulsed like a heart

“But Maybe that’s why they’re giving you to him. And don’t ever imagine he will fall for you. This isn’t a romance novel, Amara. This is real life. And when he’s done with you…. he’ll break you. Like glass.” “Pahhhhhhhhhh” Bianca make a sound of broken glass