Celeste Ng Books Novels & Stories

Kaelan pushed it open quietly. Celeste sat in the large armchair by the window, a thick book open in her lap, her hair falling over one shoulder as she read by the light of a single lantern. She looked peaceful, the soft glow highlighting the delicate lines of her face, the gentle curve of her neck, the way her simple nightgown clung to her small frame. The silver in her hair shimmered faintly, a visible sign of her awakening gifts. She looked up as he entered, her grey eyes widening in surprise.

Roman I stand on the balcony overlooking the celebration unfolding below. All around me, wolves from my Red Creed Pack and Emily's Snow Creek Pack mingle happily as we bring our families together in preparation for our mating ceremony. It's a joyous occasion, and yet I feel troubled. Worried about my mate who will soon officially become my wife - Emily. There's no doubt in my mind that she is my true mate. Our soul bond snapped into place the moment we met, as powerful and immutable as gravity itself.

Celestine is her best friend and even though she's a bit upset because of all the things that are happening she can't just let everything that Celestine worked hard for vanish in an instant. Vanessa, the head of the agency sighed. She must admit that Saoirse has a point even though she's soon to lose her patience with Celestine. Their agency becomes prominent in the field of modeling because of Celestine's success that it came to the point where most companies seek for their agency to find models to be a brand ambassadors of their company. Despite Celestine's unprofessionalism, their agency still owes her something and they can't just invalidate everything she had done for them.

she cried, her words cut short by a sharp gasp, as though the rogue had tightened its grip on her. “Please—” Her voice faltered, and something in my chest twisted painfully at the sound. I forced my way through them, breaking their formation with sheer aggression, until finally I broke free of the ambush and surged forward again, and when I reached the clearing ahead, my heart clenched at the sight in front of me. Celeste had been thrown to the ground, her body barely steady as she tried to push herself up, her dress torn and dirt-stained, faint streaks of blood marking her skin in places that made something dark and crazy twist inside me.

Old books, yellowed documents that were too damaged to read, random trinkets, even a few teeth and locks of hair from the people she had killed—that part made me wrinkle my nose in disgust. But Celeste had gone through the trunk anyway, too curious to stop looking. She’d read every book, every loose page, every scrap of handwriting she could find. It had taken her the better part of a year to decipher it all, since much of it was written in ancient languages and strange symbols that her mother had made up. Eventually, she had found something.

Expensive paintings on the walls, marble floors gleaming in low security lighting. At first, nothing happens. Then Celeste walks into frame. She's wearing a silk nightgown, moving with the kind of grace that comes from years of training. But something about her movements is off. She stops in front of a painting—one I remember from childhood, an old portrait of some Nightshade ancestor. Her fingers trace the frame's edge, and the painting swings open like a door. A hidden safe. Of course Father would have one there. Celeste's hands move with professional efficiency as she works the combination. The safe opens, and she pulls out a stack of documents. She photographs each page with her phone, m

“Stop shutting me out, Daemon. Stop letting the silence do the talking,” He exhaled. “Pen…” The clicking of heels at the door threw us apart, and just in that moment, the door flung open. Celeste stormed in, not hesitant but watchful. Too late…I was already doing my job as the alpha's assistant, arranging the books until I'd created a tower. Daemon cleared his throat as he grabbed the glass again. “if I wanted people barging into my office, then a door would have been left out in the building plan,”

I’m afraid Liza will catch me. I remember the book my father gave me when I was seven, and it was all about wolves, vampires, witches, and the like. Every time I read it, it seems like that book comforts me. “You are out of focus again, Celeste,” Liza’s stern voice pierced my ears. “I… I’m watching,” I replied. Liza smirked. “Sure, you will,” she said. “Look how Noah kneads and squeezes my boobies. It’s wonderful, right?” she added.

and to my only daughter, Celeste Isabella Moretti, age three at the time of this writing, I leave the entirety of my estate in trust until she reaches the age of twenty-five. I stop reading, and look up at Vincent. "So?" I say, but my voice sounds weak. "What is this supposed to mean? Some random will with a girl named Celeste? This has nothing to do with me." I stand up, the paper crumpling in my hand. "Don't waste my time—" Vincent's hand shoots out, catching my wrist, and to my shock, the touch is electric. His fingers are warm, strong, and the way he's looking at me, intense, burning, makes my breath catch in my throat.

I push past both of them and enter the library. I look around the library and find Celeste. She's curled up on the couch next to Lycer, reading a book. I look at the book cover and see the title "Pride and Prejudice." She is too close to him but I smile anyways as I noticed something else. Celeste's hair was short. Really short.