Diary Of An Oxygen Thief Pdf Free

My father loved silence. He believed noise was the mark of lesser people, so he installed a decibel meter in our home. Speaking above 40 decibels meant that we would have to pay him 10 dollars, laughing above 60 decibels meant 50 dollars, and crying or throwing a tantrum was a serious offense at 100 dollars per second. The year I turned four, I fell and broke my arm. I did not make a single sound. I bit down so hard that I cracked two teeth, but I saved thousands in noise fees. He praised me for it and called me a "high-value child," one that was worth the investment. I treasured that compliment and observed the rules carefully, keeping the house wrapped in suffocating silence. Then came the stormy night a thief broke in. He had a knife and was creeping toward my mother as she slept, and I watched it all from the gap in the wardrobe where I was hiding. I wanted to scream. I wanted to shriek and wake my father, to do something, anything. However, my eyes drifted to the decibel meter on the wall, and my hand found nothing but an empty pocket. I did not have enough allowance. One scream would cost hundreds, and I simply could not afford it.

At the Nightwood Clan's feast celebrating our victory over the hunters, I was accused by Julia—a fledgling freshly turned from a blood servant. The charge? Stealing fifteen crates of mana crystals and hundreds of vials of the finest rare bloods. She pointed a finger at me, her voice ringing with self-righteousness. "Are we going to let a selfish thief like her continue to control this clan's lifeblood? I propose she be thrown into the Silverwater dungeons immediately!" I looked to Joseph, the Earl of Nightwood, the man I had loved for a hundred years. He knew damn well all of it—the blood, the crystals—was mine. My gift to the clan. I needed those crystals to heal the wounds I took in the fighting, and the rare blood was the only way we could call on our allies. But the man who'd been tangled in my sheets just last night now stared at me coldly. "Julia has records of you stealing clan resources. What do you have to say for yourself?" A smirk touched my lips. "I have nothing to say." So, they thought I was some fool they could just push around. They had no idea I was a descendant of the most powerful Vampire Prince of all, Valerius. If they wanted to play games with me, they’d better be prepared for my revenge.

Angelina finds herself trapped in a dungeon while she awaits her fate. In order to be free from the dungeon, she has to agree to choose to marry one of the sons of the Lycan king. But, fate plays a role, when she wakes up one morning to discover that the Lycan king had been murdered by his own blood. The question is who?

What happens when you find your mate only for him to tell you he wants his girlfriend. Feeling rejected hurts worse than death. So you run away to be free, but your heart is broken, and you can't stop crying. Will the hurting ever stop? Will it get better, or will you run again?

“Look at me when I touch you,” Sebastian growled, Mara swallowed hard “this isn't part of the deal”. Sebastian's lips brushed her ear.“Everything about you is part of my deal” pinning Mara against the penthouse glass, city lights blazing behind her. His hand slid possessively between her thighs. “I own your moans, your wetness and every filthy inch of you.” She gasped, nails digging into his shoulders. “You bought my body to save my son. Not my fucking soul.” His lips crashed against her neck “ then I'll take that too until you beg me to keep you forever”. He caught her falsifying figures to steal for her dying son then chained her to his bed with a devil's bargain instead of jail. She was the only woman who never wanted him until desperation made her his sex tool every night. Now Sebastian's obsession burns hotter than ever. He hates seeing her around other men. He starts claiming her publicly. Mara is no longer just the desperate thief warming his bed. She's his obsession, his property, his addiction. And what happens when a medical test exposes a secret buried in the past?

(Bxb) Eric Valence thought finding a job as an editor for a well-known author named Draven H. Malcolm was the beginning of his writing career. He had no idea that it would also be the beginning of his love story. *** "You're so clueless, it bothers me." He frowned, "What does that mean-" "You never wondered why I gave you all the best things on my floor - the closest desk, drinks from my office, my newest project. I even went to your house and picked you up to make sure you weren't late." "My portfoli-" "There are twenty three others with the same experience as yours, that was an excuse," he admitted, peering into Eric's eyes and daring him to look away. Eric didn't. Draven sighed, "The reason I got mad that day..." he paused for a moment, hesitating again but deciding to let it all out, "the reason I got mad is because I heard you kissed Jason, which I wasn't too pleased about but then seeing you and Justin together..." He never finished his sentence, and Eric raised an eyebrow, "What about Justin and I?" "I feel like you're doing this on purpose," Draven chuckled, examining Eric's confused face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about-" "I like you," Draven said clearly with his entire diaphragm, expression it as loud as he could for Eric to understand. Eric felt his throat squeeze itself shut, no oxygen coming in or out. "I like you, a lot more than I thought, Eric," he breathed. Eric was unable to believe it, shook his head and looked away for moment, before meeting his gaze again. "Why me?" he asked quietly. Draven shrugged his shoulders, eyeing Eric with adoration and admiration, "I'm not sure either, but I want you to be mine."

"Strip naked." He commands with an authoritative seductive voice. "Huh! Why?" I asked because his outburst is surprising. "Just..." His voice trailed, as he made his way closer to me. "I want to see you naked." He whispers. I swallowed my saliva hard, as I made my way further inside the suite. Summoning up the courage, I unzip my red gown, while allowing the gown to freely flow down until it touches the floor. He smirks devilishly at me "Touch yourself." He commands. **** Cornelia Jamarreon is a young lady who is diagnosed with stage three cancer. All she ever wanted was to get married before her time on Earth came to an end. Her boyfriend dumped her on her birthday, leaving her so devastated that she ended up having a one-night stand with a stranger she knew nothing about. She awoke the next morning to discover that he had stolen her most valuable jewelry. 'Did I give my virginity to a thief?' She asked herself. "What would happen when Cornelia finally finds her Mister handsome? Will his family members accept her and her son?" "Will Cornelia live happily ever after, or will her cancer take her life?" Find out.....

"My dragon chose her before I even looked at her. But that doesn't mean I’m keeping her." As the Dark Prince of the empire, everyone fears me. At the sound of my name, the crowds fall silent; at my glance, heroes fall to their knees. My soul is just as black as the dragon with whom I share my thoughts. I don't need anyone. Especially not a foul-mouthed thief dragged off the streets. The girl, Eira... she is chaos incarnate. With her snow-white hair and lethal green eyes, she looks like an angel, but she fights like a demon. At the Selection, she did not bow to me. Instead, she looked me in the eye, and I saw the same fire in her that consumes me. I chose her. Not to save her from misery, but to break her. To forge her into a warrior for the coming war. But there is something I didn't count on. My dragon has become obsessed with her. And as our angry arguments grow hotter and the boundaries of physical training begin to blur, I must realize a terrible truth: The girl is not afraid of the darkness. She is the flame itself, capable of incinerating my world. Two scarred souls. A single chance for survival. Will we kill each other before the enemy reaches the gates?

I was the top bounty thief in the organization. The best they had. After turning in my final score, I announced on the spot that I was done for good. Then, I stood in my studio, blending paint. A single photograph was pinned to the wall before me. Black Viper filled the doorway, the light behind him casting his face in shadow. "What's it like," he asked quietly, "pretending to be an artist?" He stepped further inside. "Does paint smell better than blood?" I placed the palette knife down and wiped my hands slowly. "I'm done. I walked away." "Old Fox didn't approve of it." "That's not my concern." Black Viper crossed the room and tapped the old photograph on the wall. "Are you certain?" I did not want to look. I told myself not to. However, my gaze shifted anyway. A young boy stared back from the photo. "The blind kid?" I had spent ten years searching for him. "Where is he?" I moved toward the wall, reaching to rip the picture down. "One last job," Black Viper said, pressing his palm against the photo. My hand stopped in midair. "What's the target?" "The final lot at next month's auction that the Gilbert Group will be holding. "It's called Mermaid's Tear."

In a world where judgment is so easily passed, how can love be free and true? Is there a world where two people can freely express their love for one another and show their true color? How can someone so sure about himself become so conflicted about everything because of a stranger he just met?