Brandon Turner: Books Novels & Stories

she said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was never turned. I don’t even know what that means.” Another council member leaned forward. “Then who is your father?” he asked. Of all questions, why had he had to ask her that? That was the question she had always asked herself, her whole life long. Who was he? Why had she never met him? Why did he leave her? It was an answer she wanted more than anything in life. And now, on demand, she certainly could not provide it. “I don’t know,” she said, finally. The council member leaned back, as if in victory. “You see?” he said. “Half-breeds are not turned. And they never know their parents. You are mistaken, Caleb. You have made a grave error

The doors swung open, and a flutter of excitement surged through Catalina’s heart. She was pushed into a room that radiated strength and elegance. Bookshelves embraced the walls, their treasures lovingly curated. The gentle warmth of the fire danced in the hearth, its soft crackle filling the room with a tender ambiance, while shadows wove their delicate patterns across the gleaming surfaces. Behind a grand desk sat Matteo Moretti, a figure of intrigue and longing. He was nothing like the image she had conjured in her mind. He was younger—likely in his late twenties—but there was something about him, a presence so commanding that it sent shivers down her spine.

"Okay, I believe you. Congratulations, Mr. Young. You have successfully emerged from the shadow of the past." Brandon snorted sarcastically. But then, he laughed along with Briony. His love life was indeed ridiculous and tragic. Even now, he still felt sad. "By the way, what story are you writing for your new novel?" Brandon pointed to the pink laptop behind his laptop. "This?" Briony tapped her laptop with her flower-patterned nails. "A secret. But surely, it is very different from the previous books. I'm sure it will go viral." "Is that your love story?"

Micah sat across from them, sketchbook in his lap, half-listening, half-silent — as usual. He wasn’t the kind of person who spoke just to fill silence, but tonight, something in him felt unsettled. Maybe it was how easy Colton made everything look. Maybe it was how Amelia laughed — his Amelia, even if she wasn’t his — at something Colton whispered in her ear. Micah’s pencil stopped moving. “Bro,” Trey said, tossing a chip at him. “You zone out more than anyone I’ve ever met. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

103. Brandon's POV. I’d been cooped up in my room for hours, flipping through these heavy old history books that smelled like a mix of dust and ancient ink. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I kept bothering. I’d already gone through what felt like half of my father's library, probably more, and I still hadn’t found anything useful. None of it explained what Aaron was. What he did. The powers he had. The weird smell that followed him around. Or how his body just burst into flames like it was never meant to stay in this world.

“By the goddess, Brandon you cannot be so prudish.” I kept my voice low, only a little aware of the change in our environment from the car to the foyer of Matthias’ home. “Oh, I am not, trust me,” Brandon still looked a little dazed like he had just had a revelation. “But those types of books… the mechanics aren't really that accurate you know. It's all… imagined.” My cheeks flushed. “I don’t know, and I don’t care, Brandon. Besides, they have a nice plot as well.” My voice wavered a little. “They aren't meant for just that.”

As a means of continue writing, he keeps his grandparents close to his heart and mind for always encouraging him to not give up. Brandon Ebinger Brandon Ebinger is a horror/dark fantasy author who lives in upstate New York with his fiancé and two cats. He holds a BA in creative writing. He enjoys horror films,Gothic rock and punk music and video games. He is a huge fan of haunted attractions, and spends October as a haunt actor. Brandon has written four horror/dark fantasy novels, Ash, Hollow Hills, The Afflicted and Rose. He has also published a handful of short stories within the genre. He has recently finished his most recent novel Broken Night and is at work on a new one.

Elliot had never been that sweet and caring. Elliot sent me a furious text, [Wendy, what are you up to! Why are you getting so cozy with my brother?! I'm warning you, think about the baby you're carrying. Don't go overboard! Don't do something dumb just because you're mad about a ring!] I frowned and turned off my phone. Someone needed to tell him that I was not going to marry him, and my child would not call him dad. Just then, Byron stood up, glass in hand, and said, "Today, I gathered you all here to share two big pieces of news. The first is about my oldest son. Starting today, he's officially moving back home from abroad."

He still doesn’t turn around. When she realizes he won’t be replying back she leaves, giving me one last side eye glare. He turns around finally and sees me waving my hand in front of my face trying to get her strong perfume away from me. He holds back a laugh, “I’m guessing the Alpha title comes with a lot of fans,” I say walking over to the table to grab my contract. “The title definitely comes with a lot. Not all of which is wanted,” he sighs and grabs one of the bags and a shoe box and hands them to me. “You can change over there,” he points to the corner that has those fabric moving walls like the hospitals do. “Excuse me? Change? Why am I changing?” I ask him clearly confused. He lifts

A chuckle escaped my lips as I grabbed my purse from my table, signalling to Lola. I hadn't planned to stay at this event for so long. I had only come because I was invited for the award and I thought it was finally time that the world got to see the face behind Kara Technologies after years of my name going ahead of me. I might have left who I was years ago but my introverted nature—it stuck with me like a plague. A plague I enjoyed. It bought me more time with my son. "I'm afraid that might not happen, Mr. Hill—"