Carefully Picked Novels & Stories

I smiled again. He had been tender. That was the word for it, which surprised me when it arrived because tender was not the word I would have predicted going in. He had been careful with me. Not cautious in the way that felt managing or overly considerate in the way that felt like a performance. Just actually careful, the way someone was careful with something they could see mattered. And familiar.

he started, but I had to speak. “I have heard that before. Why? Because of how they look or how they feed? That doesn’t make them any different from any other beast in the woods. And they don’t feed from people who are not willing, they always have their consent and they know when to stop. We don’t choose who we fall in love with.” “How do you know?” Eliphas pitched in, “you’ve only known one of them for a few days and you already had him mark you.” “I just know,” I replied, giving him a stare. He was not going to change my mind. I don’t care what they said about them, the Moores have only shown me kindness and respect. They have made me feel welcome in their home. Even the villagers have.

His eyes widened when he saw two girls wandering in the woods as though they were looking for something. It was Jane and Grace. Jane had told Grace what she observed. She was the only one affected by the strawberry scent which means that whoever had that scent is none other than her mate. When she entered the woods, she had no doubt about it. It was as strong as when Jaden came to the training ground. "Common now Prince George, if you are here, show yourself already." Jane said almost frustrated. She had been searching aimlessly. It felt like the scent was running away from her. Well he was actually running away from her.

Quieter but more alive. "She's careful," I said. "She's a very careful woman. She has been careful for a very long time. But there is a specific and particular quality of careful that is different from the ordinary careful, a careful that is careful because the thing being managed is real rather than because there is nothing to manage." "You think she has feelings for him."

I took the necklace off quickly, and together, my hand on his, we inserted it gently into the indent. I was ecstatic to see that it fit perfectly. It entered with a soft click, and as we gently turned it to the right, a narrow, vertical compartment opened. Heart pounding, I reached inside and gently extracted a frail scroll, yellowing, brittle. It was tied with an ancient piece of string, all but crumbling. I handed it to Caleb, and the two of us unrolled the scroll together.

I struggled to keep my expression neutral, but the mention of Jack brought all my conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. "Um, it's… it's been an adjustment," I stammered, trying to find the right words. "Gradually getting used to it."I quickly added, but still wondered why he had asked. Alex nodded thoughtfully, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil brewing inside me. "He seems like a good and caring guy," he remarked, leaning back on the blanket. "Buying you an expensive car, throwing you a lavish party. It must be nice to have someone looking out for you like that."

Slow. The word that described what followed was slow in the way that slow was sometimes the most precise available option. Slow in the way of two people who had been through the wrong version of this and then the breaking of the wrong version and then the long careful work of building something that could hold the real version. He was careful with the ice. Not careful in the way of someone who was afraid of getting it wrong. Careful in the way of someone who understood that the getting it right was the entire point and required his full attention and he was giving his full attention freely without being asked to.

All so delicately matched when chosen. I allowed my finger to graze one of the delicate petals, trying to wonder who would put so much time and effort into choosing such beautiful flowers. Most people would just go to the store and grab some, right? But these were most certainly not store-bought. These were hand selected. Carefully considered. Much thought had gone into them... and again, the fact they were in my favorite color kept returning to my mind. How many people other than those close to me knew about that? Or could it have been a lucky guess?

Quiet. Fast. Careful not to look at me again. Good. — The moment the door closes behind them The room changes. No more witnesses. No more hesitation. Just me. And the tray. I step forward slowly. My gaze settles on the cup. Steam still rising faintly. Untouched. Innocent. Deceptive. I reach for it then stop. Not yet. This isn’t something to rush. This is something to do properly. Carefully. I glance around once.

"Anyways, let me get to the point of my visit. Mum, you have to choose one of the two. You are suffering and, along with you dad and Harold are also suffering. Dad hasn't genuinely smiled since this has happened. He tries to hide it from me, but I can hear him cry in the evenings when he goes to bed. He misses you so much it's hurting him. I am truly sorry to do this, but I have to ask you, do you want Harold or dad? You don't have to answer now, but you will have to soon. As soon as possible so we can end the suffering of all three of you. Please mum." I had started crying at the last part because I was literally begging her at the moment to choose. I'm not dumb. I know that one of the two