Emily Compagno Book Novels & Stories

What was happening to her? Before she did anything else, Emily wanted to pick a few choice books to sneak into her bag. Her allowance wasn’t much and college was expensive as fuck. Surely her step-father could spare some of his high- quality smut for charity? Emily’s eyes devoured the titles, trying to choose just one or two was impossible. She wanted to dump the entire shelf into her bag, to run away and find a cozy nook and to read all of them until their spines broke.

“I’m serious. I just wanted to hear about you.” Emily sighed but didn’t push. Instead, she refilled her glass and leaned back. “Alright, but just so you know, I’m very nosy. So don’t think you’ll escape forever.” I smiled, grateful for her presence. As the night went on, we talked about everything except my problems. I learned that Emily had once considered moving to France but chickened out. That she hated horror movies but loved crime documentaries. That she secretly wrote erotica under a fake name and had an insane number of readers.

Emily giggled, her hard demeanour fading away. "I expect nothing less," she said with a smile. "You deserve the best, Em." "I know," Emily replied with a cocky grin. "Don't let it get to your head," Elena teased. "Too late; but that's not important. What is important right now is your love triangle. This feels like something out of one of the romance books in the library, except you aren't being sold to the rich mean guy by your broke father or evil stepmother," "I think I'm going to tell your nurse to stop giving you romance novels. And besides, Marcus isn't mean."

Candles glowed, though no one had lit them. Emilia stepped inside, the whispers now humming like a heartbeat. She crossed the room to the vanity. Her hand brushed over a silver brush, a comb, a dried bouquet of black roses. Her mother had always been a creature of elegance and ice. And yet... There. Behind the mirror, she felt it. A pulse. She pressed her fingers against the glass. It shifted. With a soft click, a hidden compartment opened behind the mirror. A single book lay inside—bound in dark leather, its pages thick and brittle with age.

Carla and Travis watched from the sidelines, hands clasped. “We did it,” Carla said, her voice steady. Travis nodded. “And we’re just getting started.” The scars remained, but they were no longer wounds. Dave, Carla, and the other victims were healing, not just surviving but thriving, their journeys a testament to resilience, love, and the unyielding power of talent reclaimed. ----- This marks the end of the Burning Embers: Scorching Tales of Desire. Compiled short story arcs now made their way to their ends. See you next time. There'll be more ahead. Thank you!

“I’m not sure either. I haven’t dealt with her that much, but I know that she snatched away her best friend’s husband. She seduced John and even gave birth to his child out of wedlock. She’s definitely not a good person.” “I think Molly’s death must have been related to Sophia for sure.” Matthew’s face took on a solemn expression. “Sophia started out from Hoover Alley and ended up in the position of a mayoress, so she’s not to be underestimated.”

“You do not cry after sex.” “They don’t have to know that.” He winked. Oz, Balkin and Indrick did pretty well too. It was now my turn to close us out. “Hey, I’m Empress Zelda. Um, let’s see...you’ve heard about my complicated love life. Getting bit, getting proposed to, getting dumped. All things that don’t usually happen to an Empress. But let’s talk about this horrid journey. I’ve almost been eaten by a Serpenbite, almost drowned, came very close to being barbeque, I’ve been kidnapped like seven times. My body was snatched by an Over-Lordess who kind of shamed me for not being a virgin, by the way. So I’ve been called a tramp a lot lately.”

We were on high alert, the compound could be attacked at any minute and all I could think about were the places on her naked body that I wanted to explore. A few deep breaths later and I was back under control, somewhat. “Shit.” I muttered to myself as I glanced along the empty corridor again trying to take my mind off of it. Clara emerged from the shower room, hair still damp and dressed in her army blacks, weapons and all and I gulped knowing exactly what was under those clothes. She glanced at me once before her face flamed again and her eyes met the ground and I couldn't take it any longer, her thinking that I didn't want her.

Lucien noticed her. “Don't hide it. What do you want to know? I will answer anything.” Emily gulped, his voice did not sound encouraging at all. But since he said, she could ask… she had to. He might never give her this chance again. “Did you know that your father was born out of adultery? Did you know that you did not have the pure blood's mark? Did you know?” "Of course I did. After all, I am the one who put the book where it is. The Library the children went to and found this book was created by me.

Casting the library in a semi glow. At one corner stood a desk. A floor-length window behind it flocked by heavy drapes and hinting at the outside. A solitary single brass candlestick on the desk. Emily walked over to the first shelf with careful steps and felt the familiar comfort of a library wash over her. She took in a huge breath and ran her fingers over the rows of thick covers. Her glove clad hand settling on one, and she pulled it out and held it close to her chest. Then she turned and started towards the desk with weak steps trying not to think of her dilemma but it came pouring in any way. ~~~~~~