Novelas y relatos de Curiosity

We collect nothing but memories and a small box of seashells that Orwell keeps trying to eat. "You're happy," I say one night, watching her sketch a cathedral. "I'm curious." "Same thing." "No." She sets down her pencil. "Happiness is a mood. Curiosity is a way of being. I want to be curious." "About what?" "About everything. The world. The people in it. The person I'm becoming." I lean over, kiss her cheek. "That sounds like growth." "It sounds like work." "Same thing." --- Autumn comes.

Evelyn maintained. "Oh, please. Spare me the semantic gymnastics. Curiosity is what you feel when a new art installation goes up in the lobby. Concern—or whatever deeply buried emotional entanglement you're currently trying to suffocate—implies actual attachment," imposed Melissa. "Curiosity is rational," Evelyn muttered defensively, staring hard at the grain of her mahogany desk. "Attachment is just messy." There was a long, delicious pause on the line—the kind of stretched, knowing silence that Melissa was an absolute master of, letting the unspoken truth hang in the air between them like cigarette smoke.

"I bite hard." He blinked slowly, and for a brief second, I thought he might consider calling security. Or do even worse. But then, he leaned back...his glass in his hand as he sipped the champagne. "You're certainly...very entertaining, even more than I could think of. But remember, curiosity doesn't play fair. It's a dangerous thing." "Curiosity," I echoed. ".... that's what keeps the world spinning. And if you are not careful enough, it would help in keeping people like me alive...and most importantly, in your orbit."

-ADRIAN POV- I've built my career on the principle that control is everything. It's the only thing that separates the people who succeed from the people who get swept away by circumstance and emotion. Control is knowing exactly what will happen before it happens. Control is building systems that work regardless of external chaos. Control is keeping the world at arm's length so nothing can touch what I've carefully constructed. And I'm very, very good at control. Which is why the assignment Marcus just handed me is simultaneously the most strategic opportunity of my career and the most genuinely irritating thing that's happened to me in months.

It was a puzzle, a living enigma, and somehow, that recognition stirred a different kind of awareness in me, one that made my chest tighten in curiosity rather than hunger. And then I caught it. The scent. Not Julian's, sharp-edged with arrogance, not even Rowan's, constant, loyal, seasoned with centuries of shared hunts and quiet battles—both laced with obsession because of my curse—but something subtler, more deliberate. Ashford carried a faint trace of it, almost imperceptible, earthy and measured, mingling with old parchment and ink, with the faintest whisper of rain on stone. It did not pull, did not press on my body as the curse did; it intrigued, teased

Since Riley was doing well in school, she had no problem with taking the day off. She hadn't been sleeping well. She felt tired and paranoid when she should have felt energized and excited. The last two nights, she even felt like there was someone watching her from a distance. She would look outside , peaking from behind her blinds, but couldn't tell where they were hiding. She would toss and turn all night dreaming of nothing but an endless void. Even Ava didn't want to come out and talk. Was there something wrong with her wolf? This was not what she pictured.

Fear, curiosity, and resentment twist into a coiled mass that refuses to unwind. A faint creak interrupts my thoughts. I freeze. My eyes dart to the half-open door of the next room, where shadows shift with the slightest imperceptible movement. I inhale slowly, chest rising and falling. I should leave, flee back to the safety of the familiar corridors, yet my curiosity roots me to the spot. The estate seems alive here, each object a sentinel watching my every move.

But I let it pass without reaction. “I see,” he noted. “Curiosity has a habit of making people believe they’re part of things they’re only standing next to.” I felt my inner thrill building, then I recovered and picked up my cards instead like nothing had happened. “Curiosity implies I don’t already know,” I countered, placing a small stack of chips forward. His fingers idly turned his glass. “What interests me is scale. You don’t build something like that moving money alone. There’s always a second layer. Something less...”

Frowning he looked at her in a questioning look. "I am allergic to cigarette's effluvium, sir." Smiling he threw the cigarette and crushed it under his feet thinking 'anything for you darling.' And smoothly corrected her, "Noah." Sophia didn't replied rather whatever Lisa and Samuel had taught her circulated in her mind and one thing caught her interest that is this man is famous for his debauchery and never have been in a relationship, does he likes a simple girl like her, based on what indications he is giving her or is it all just a show, but again why? She doesn’t have anything valuable left with her.