Brazen Book Novels & Stories

After which the guard bowed and Sebastian gave him a dismissive nod as he went out. “So Brianna,” he said as he unzipped the small bag and brought out a blanket and a weathered leather-bound book with golden embossing I recognized to be the one I had brought out from the shelf when he took me to his library in the castle. I didn’t seem to understand what he was doing. Why he had an armchair, a blanket and that book. Was he planning to sleep here tonight? “Have you made up your mind not to escape so I could let you out? I don’t like seeing you like this. It pains me.” I didn’t respond, still staring in bafflement.

A few seconds later, he swirled and chimed, “Ta-da!” Brinda's jaw dropped while she stared at The Black Book in Francesco's hands. “What the hell?” She gasped.

He bowed and was gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving the heavy satchel behind. I lunged for the bag the moment the tent flap sealed. I untied the cord with shaking fingers and pulled out the book. It wasn't ancient and brittle. It was a modern reprint, but the cover read: Healers' Lore: The Legacy of the Wounded Crown. It was a medical text, disguised as a historical relic.

"You're not my Tess. No… You're wearing dark green pants today, not black…" I forced my way in and glanced at it. Tess's dark green pants had taken in so much blood that they looked like black. When Mr. Mason from the school saw Lena, he was so nervous that he sprinted over and pulled Lena to the side. "Why did you only arrive, Mrs. Smith? You didn't pick up all the calls… Look at Tess now… If you were here sooner, she wouldn't have…" Mr. Mason looked at Tess covered in blood, and couldn't finish the sentence.

He opened it. Instead of ink… The pages filled themselves with moving images. Entire battles unfolded across the parchment. Cities rose and fell. Kings were crowned. Empires crumbled. It was history itself. “This…” Cassian whispered. “…is the Book of the Five Seals.” Amara stepped closer. “It records everything?” “Everything important.” He turned another page. The image changed. A towering mountain appeared. Beneath it… Five enormous circles of silver light surrounded a vast prison.

Cein giggled at the look on her face and he walked out of his hiding place. “Very funny,” the redhead snorted and picked up the book from the floor. She read the title and realized it wasn't what she sought. She placed it back in its position and grabbed the next book but suddenly, Cein was in front of her, smiling wide and large, just like the glasses on his face. Reyna ignored him with a tsk. She wondered why the brothers chose to embarrass themselves with these glasses when they did not need them. Werewolves have sharp senses; it was like insulting the moon goddess's intelligence by using those human tools.

Like a precious lost treasure, she held the book in her hands with the inscription "The Book of the Banshees" etched like gold on the cover. Evelyn's eyes were trained on the book, lost in the sight of it like an invisible specter tethering her thoughts and focus to one single point.

When you take a pack, you find out how bad it is. The holes in the books were ugly. Lucien had borrowed in Crimson Moon's name from Moon Bank, from Silvercrest's treasury, from neighboring pack Alphas' private vaults. The managers stood with their heads down. A few of them obviously had Silvercrest's scent-stamp still pressed into the back of their necks. Plants. I closed the books. "Anything that needs to come out, come out today. If you took something, say so. Better than my Alpha presence dragging it out of you."

Briar hasn't stopped talking since we got in the door. “…and I mean it, Wren, I've never seen anything like it. You didn't even flinch. Adrien freaking Conrad, standing right there, and you just looked him dead in the eye and torched the whole thing down. I would've thrown up. I think I actually might throw up right now just from watching it happen. I'm serious, my hands are still shaking…” “Briar." I let out. “…and Serena's face, oh my god, did you see her face? She looked like somebody slapped her; I don't even think she knows what to do with herself right now, and Bron just standing there like…”

He cut the call without another word. THE BRATVA'S EMPIRE The iron gates of the Bratva’s Empire loomed ahead, black and towering, the Morozov crest carved into steel. Armed guards stood at each side, rifles in their hands, faces blank masks. As Mikhail’s car rolled closer, the beams of its headlights caught the silver edge of their weapons. The gates creaked open with deliberate slowness, metal groaning as though even the compound itself acknowledged the weight of who was arriving.