Defiance Novel Novels & Stories

Nothing to defend myself with. She had beaten me. Not with strength, she had none left. Not with position, she had lost that weeks ago. Not with anything I could see or touch or understand. She had beaten me with truth. I turned and walked away. My heels clicked against the stone. Faster than before. Almost running. The cell door slammed shut behind me. The lock clicked. The guards stared at me with expressions I couldn't read and didn't want to see. I walked past them. Up the stairs. Through the corridors. Past servants who bowed and wolves who nodded and everyone who saw me as the Luna, the victor, the woman who had everything.

The first day of Alessandro’s residence in the barn began before the sun had even cleared the horizon. Caro woke to the rhythmic, metallic clink of tools and the heavy thud of timber. She lay in bed for a moment, her heart racing as she remembered that she was no longer alone on the property. The "Defender" was no longer stalking the streets of Rome; he was in her backyard, attempting to repair the damage five years of neglect had done to her sanctuary.

Kieran whispered urgently, “And my consciousness fragments permanently.” Silence filled the group. The younger man finally spoke. “So if Nova falls… you disappear?” “Yes,” Kieran answered. The younger man clenched his fists. “Then we don’t let her fall.” The pulse surged again. But this time it carried something stronger. Human will. Nova looked at them with quiet gratitude. “You are stronger than the Architect believes.” The Architect spoke again. “Emotional defiance detected.” Nova smiled faintly. “You should study it carefully.”

This was Faith's journal. He flipped some more pages. In the beginning, nothing was all that interesting in the book. It was just about daily life. Some of her stories showed that she had a tough life. She wrote about how hard she worked to support her family and her sick father. It wasn't anything new Anthony didn't already know about. His chest felt heavy as he kept reading. Faith's life hadn't been easy. Her father was so cruel to her. So, no wonder she had a hard time trusting men. Trusting him.

She pleaded, "Please, give it back." Despite her tears and pleas, they relished in her fear and dread, enjoying the act of blackmailing her. In her attempt to snatch the sketchbook, she tumbled to the ground as the boy callously pushed her. The impending dread gripped her – the fear of being judged and the thought of Darian finding out. The echoes of their laughter seemed to reverberate in her ears, causing her head to spin.

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My name is Jennie Dawson. I was just an ordinary college girl whose biggest achievement was pulling all-nighters to read smut novels. Then one night I dropped dead at my desk… and woke up inside the very book I was reading, as a pretty background character who happened to share my name. The heroine, Nancy Porter, was a transmigrator with a system. Her mission was to seduce my brother and turn him into her devoted plaything, living a life of indulgence with her day and night until she could finally return to her world.

The air in the library was thick with the scent of old books and the faint hum of fluorescent lights. Sadile Marconi, her fiery red hair cascading over her shoulders like a river of flames, sat at a secluded table, her green eyes darting between the pages of her textbook and the clock on the wall. The numbers seemed to mock her, ticking away the minutes until her next class, a class she was dangerously close to failing.

Reluctantly I nodded. I pondered, why. His eyes were as yet on me. Attempting to get out of his hold didn't seem right. But when his hold loosened I didn't miss the chance to be liberated only to be captured once again. We faced each other with his hand on my waist. I felt his fingers playing with the knots of my top. They ran on my bare back, erupting goose flesh all over. He was trying to conquer me and boy did I want to defy him, hell no!

I want her to know that I have taken notice of her and I will strike. And immediately… she resists. She doesn't want me to touch her. She's strong, I will give her that. A tremor vibrates through the link. Not fear. Not weakness. Defiance. Interesting. I press deeper. Her dream shifts from a calm field to something wilder, darker. Trees twist. Shadows slither. Her breathing changes. I hear her heartbeat like a drum beneath layers of fog. So she is aware, not fully, but enough to sense what hunts her.