Crown And Thorn Book Novels & Stories

With one swift motion, he pushed it aside, revealing a steel-bound safe embedded in the wall. Violet’s breath hitched. “Kael…” He entered a code — 0-1-1-3 — the date none of them dared speak aloud. The door clicked open with a muted sigh. Inside lay a single book. Its cover was blackened with age, corners charred, the title long faded — only a sigil remained, etched like a wound: a spiral of thorns bleeding into a crescent moon. Kael took it out carefully, as though it might bite. “Thorne wrote this herself,” he said, voice low.

“She’s mine. I marked her neck, her tits, her thighs with my teeth. That womb is going to swell with my seed. Touch her without my permission and I’ll rip your fucking throat out and fuck her on your corpse.” Thorn the leaner, flirty stud with sharp features and a cocky dangerous grin. He stood between them rolling his eyes. He was the wildcard. Not as massively built as the other two, but still huge. There was a playful look in his eyes that made my stomach twist “Both of you sound like desperate dogs fighting over the same juicy bone,” Thorn drawled crossing his arms over his chest. “We all drew the card tonight. We all get to ruin the Crown princess. Fighting about who owns her is just wa

Hopping the answer would be yes, I flipped to the introduction, the much-needed hope fluttering in my chest as I read. “From their temple origins to their violent renaissance in the Bloody War that birthed Henosis, Crowns of Shame have a complex past mixed with hope and cruelty alike. Despite its variety of intents and shapes, one thing remains the same throughout its history: the scar-tissue that defines it.” I flipped through the book, deterred by the word “scar-tissue”. I stopped at a page with a grotesque image of a man on his knees as someone carved a line across his forehead.

With gestures, not words. I sat on the bed slowly and unwrapped it. A new book. Thick, bound in leather, smelling expensive, old, and important at the same time. ‘The Silent Crown.’ I ran my thumb over the title and shook my head. He picked perfectly. Always perfect. His love may be feral, dark, filthy with hunger and violence—but his gifts? They were thoughtful. Personal. Intimate. I opened the book and started reading. Not because I cared about the story.

Meanwhile, over at the Romano family's sprawling estate, the place was nothing like a swanky estate. Rather, it felt more like a fortress bristling with security. High walls were laced with live barbed wire, and armed guards were posted every 30 feet. The servants, clad in black, moved with heads down and without a sound, like ghosts drifting through the halls. Upstairs, in the master bedroom, the door was left ajar, letting out a heavy stench of blood that even overpowered the room's fancy cedar scent.

Jeremy’s silver whip, and how he spent the whole night whipping me till I could no longer stand. He let go of my arm and wrapped his hands around my throat instead. The anger in his eyes was enough to burn down a whole pack. I tried to scream, but I couldn’t. I clawed desperately at his hands as dark spots started dancing in front of my eyes, and my legs were dangling off the bed.

Still, her pulse ticked harder. “Who are you really?” she asked. “Elias Thorne. Scholar, licensed aetherist, nuisance to the Church.” The corner of his mouth rose again. “And I dislike seeing people framed for things they did not do.” She went still. He had not said her name. He did not need to. “You read the court reports,” she said. “I read everything,” he said. “The poison that found its way beneath your chair last night was a southern compound. Expensive. Rare. Not something a lady keeps in her handbag.”

"That crappy orchard your brother bought. It’s got quite a bit of rosemary in it. Ha! Not only has that dump never made a single dime, we still have to pay a crew to maintain it every year." A thought flickered in my mind. I knew that place. The orchard sat on a ruined silver mine, its trees drawing on the soil and the breath of silver for years, gaining a power to ward off evil. The Haunts came with the wind, but silver tamed the wind. Those trees were worth far more than my mother and brother could ever imagine. If my infant spirits had wielded weapons made from that wood, they would have been unstoppable.

The letters were uneven, rushed, and old, but they struck me with the force of my mother’s voice. My little wolf, if you find this crown, then every lie has failed to keep you small. My vision blurred. Conri stepped closer but said nothing. Bardolph’s pain flickered through the bond, but he held himself silent. I kept reading. This crown is not proof that you must rule. It is proof that you were born free before men wrote contracts over your name. My breath shook. The crown warmed in my hands, and the hidden power beneath the red stones seemed to listen.

I try to take it out but it is stuck. I twist it and tug at it again a bit strongly than necessary. It comes out and goes fly out of my hand. Great. I am already finished with my work so I get down from the ladder and look for the book. I see black colored something under the chair and bend down to see if that is the book. I take it out to see what secrets this book holds that Rudra had to put it away like this. I have evil grin on my face as I get my hands on my new weapon to tease my husband but when I see the front title of book I am confused. It say, 'To make your spouse happy…..'