Cm Owens Books Novels & Stories

he whispered. *** Owen was right after all. An hour after we came in, it started to drizzle. The smell of freshly baked pancakes wafted through the air as I stared out the large glass door that gave a fine view of the pool. Owen had wrapped me up in a warm blanket leaving me with a book and hot chocolate. Power of the pussy. I read, trailing my fingers over the book cover — smooth and simple design. “I should read this?” I asked rhetorically, picking up the book to glance through the pages.

grinned Owen, my faithful Friday boy and witcher extraordinaire. “I'm just saying that zombies have undergone a huge transformation over the years. Hiding a smile, I blew on my tea and watched the waves crash against the glass wall of my bookstore-bar. “Speed, maybe,” he retorted, stacking the glasses under the counter. Sitting on a stool, I sipped my tea while Owen checked the bottles of alcohol, replacing empty ones. I am running a books bar in Danius Clive'S Pack. Tables, most with small stained-glass lamps, were scattered throughout the bar, green leather chairs surrounding them.

I don’t have a class right now, but I want to use the time before the end of the school day to revise a little, so I head to the library. I pass the soccer field on my way there, and one second I’m walking, my mind split between revision and everything else, and the next, my steps slow without permission. I see Owen. He isn’t at the center of the field, not dominating the game the way I would have expected. He’s just… there. Moving with everyone else, blending in, chasing the ball when it comes his way, and letting it go when it doesn’t. There’s no pressure in the way he runs. No sharp edges. Just ease.

As secrets surface and desire ignites, she’s caught between a man she should fear and a passion she can’t ignore. The deeper she falls into Alexander’s world, the harder it becomes to tell whether he’s her captor… or her only chance at survival. Dark. Addictive. Explosive. Blood & Oath is a gripping mafia romance about loyalty, revenge, and a love so fierce it might just destroy them both.

DAELYN'S POV "I'm Daelyn Blair and I'm here to pick the order I made yesterday." I said to the guy sitting in front of the computer at the mall. "Yes. Ms.Blair, right this way please." He said and led me into his studio. "Is that my order?" I asked, pointing to the spiralled book at one corner. "Yes it is. I specifically paid attention to the pictures you mentioned. The rest of the pictures were carefully selected by my employees. We hope you like it." He said and handed that book over.

"The full truth." From inside his jacket, Owen pulled a worn leather book. Its pages yellowed with age, its binding cracked and failing. "This belongs to our family," he explained. "Passed down through generations. It tells of a time when wolves were divided—some following the path of the Moon Goddess, others turning to darker powers." He opened the book to a marked page. On it was a drawing that made Elias's blood run cold—a black wolf with tendrils of shadow stretching from its body, consuming everything in its path.

“The training has already started on the field. King Kael is expecting everyone to be punctual. You shouldn't be late.” I walk off quickly, leaving her standing there, fuming. When I get to the Library, I find it blessedly empty, save for two people. Kael and Olivia. I just lied about Kael being in the field. What gives? The bastard is never where you need him to be. He and Olivia are huddled together at one of the massive oak tables, a colossal, ancient tome spread between them. Kael seems to be teaching Olivia how to read and interpret the Lycan’s impossibly intricate ancient texts. She’s leaned in, completely absorbed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

The peace lasted about thirty seconds. "What are you reading?" I nearly jumped out of my skin. My book snapped shut in my hands as I looked up. Owen stood there, hands shoved into his pockets, his boy-next-door smile tugging at his lips. He plopped down beside me without asking, his shoulder brushing too close. "Wuthering Heights," I said, flashing the cover like it was proof I was not in the mood for company. "Classic." His smile stretched wider. "Ever read it before?"

The perfect place to find clues. I parked my red Chevy out front. She’d seen better days, but she was loyal. I took two deep breaths before stepping out. My knitted sweater did nothing to protect me from the chill wind that leisurely pricked my skin as I jogged inside. The cafe smelled like damp and stuffy. Rows of old computers hummed softly, screens glowing blue and white. A few people sat hunched over keyboards, immersed in whatever was on the screens. No one cared who I was. No one even spared me a glance.

I rushed to Owen’s house, my grip tight on the steering wheel as I thought about how he had abandoned me when things got ugly, and when I pulled into the driveway, I noticed his car wasn't there yet. I used my spare key to let myself in, the house feeling empty and silent, and decided to wait for him in the study where he usually kept his private files. I sat at his desk, the anger boiling under my skin, and that’s when I noticed a leather-bound book sitting open on the table, its pages moving slightly in the wind from the window behind. I leaned forward, my curiosity getting the better of me, and saw a long list of phone numbers written in Owen’s messy handwriting, some with names and other