Novel & Cerita Exquisite Corpse Book

The past weeks have been hell for me and them as well. I made a swift journey to Chaos’ side of the house and dropped the wrapped jewellery on her bed. I was turning to leave before turning back. Deciding on having a look at the mysterious jewellery. The sight that met me took my breath away. It was simply spectacular. It was a simple unisex bracelet with black and red rare stones and in a way, they reminded me so much of my Chaos. Dropping a kiss on it, I dropped it back on the bed and stepped out only to bump into Papa Chaos.

I grabbed my purse and headed out the door, turning back for my book on the kitchen counter; reading books will forever be my first love. At The Tasty Place Diner I found what might be my new inspiration. He was tall, almost roughed, not too soft. I don’t know what to make of what happened. “Mr. Blackwood,” he had signed my book; who was he? He was light skinned. I usually like men a shade closer to purple. His chest was broad, too broad. Usually my men are slimmer. He had lazy eyes that looked intense just when he needed them to be. Bedroom McDreamy eyes... And he smiled like a humming bird, glorious and slick.

It didn’t feel like mine to touch. And then—just as I was about to turn away—a spine caught the edge of my gaze. Not with color or glimmer, but with its silence. It was tucked almost too neatly between two broader tomes, their gilded edges crowding it as if to hide its presence. The binding was dark, a shade between bruised purple and coal, cracked with age, and unadorned save for a single phrase impressed in thin silver serif: “The Quiet Cull: A Forgotten History of Hybrid Extinction.”

The ladies all giggle and Julie stands, handing a new bookmark to each of us. "Yes. We figured we'd get you ones that suited you a little better." she says. The new one is dark blue with gold lettering that says 'Real men read dirty books'. I smile and look over at Ev who's showing Harper his excitedly. "These are great. Thank you." I say just as Bri nudges me. "Oh! Tell them your joke, love!" Harper says excitedly. Ev rolls his eyes before addressing the group.

“What’s your talent? Besides looking like a shampoo commercial?” Oh, you want talent? I thought, picking up the caviar-peeling fork with deliberate slowness. How about noticing Grandma’s monocle is fake? Or that Lysandra’s texting Kieran Ashford under the table? Or that Cassian hasn’t touched his food because he’s too busy watching me dissect this scallop like it holds the meaning of life? I took a bite. The scallop tasted like regret and overpriced ocean. “I collect first editions,” I said in Selene’s airy tone, though my voice felt like glass shards in my throat. “Machiavelli. Dante. The Art of War.”

“I’m here for you, Vera. Believe it or not.” Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she stepped back, her necklace pulsing. “Show me, then,” she said, voice firm, though her eyes lingered on mine, sparking heat. “No games.” I nodded, pulling a leather-bound tome from the shelf, dust puffing into the air. My fingers brushed hers as I handed it over, the touch sending a jolt through me. Her eyes widened, but she snatched the book, flipping it open. “Moonstone records,” I said, leaning over her shoulder, my voice low, intimate. “They talk about corruption. Alphas who weren’t attuned to a moonstone lose control, and go mad.”

When I was done, I headed for my office, shutting the door behind me. Walking to my desk, my hands shook as I pulled the bottom drawer open. In it, several worn paperbacks of my secret stash were laid out. With titles like- CLAIMED BY THE PACK, BRED BY THE BEAST AND TAKEN WITHOUT MERCY. I grabbed Taken Without Mercy, the cover showcasing a naked curvy woman with a fucked out pussy, big tits and two guys by her side with huge mighty cocks. I slid onto my chair, the urge to resist failing me. It's being months and I told myself I'd stop, but the ache in me needed to be satisfied.

She pushed that down deep, sipping from stored bags in the fridge. Rain hammered the windows that Tuesday night. Lydia sat at her desk, sorting through a box of new books. One caught her eye: Spirits of the Wild: Bindings and Releases. The cover was cracked leather, smelling like dirt and old forests. She flipped it open, her fingers brushing over faded words in some ancient tongue. "Just a peek," she told herself. Curiosity burned in her chest. She read the spell aloud, soft and quick, like testing a locked door. The air changed. It got heavy, like before a storm. Candles on the shelves flickered wild, shadows dancing on the walls. A rumble started low, from the book itself. Lydia's hands s

“Get me the damned book.” A beat passed before he nodded once and walked out without another word. I leaned back in my chair afterward and stared briefly at the dark laptop screen reflecting my own face back at me. Even in the middle of all this corporate bullshit, my wife had managed to publish a bestselling comic romance inspired by me. I actually laughed once under my breath because what the fuck even was my life anymore? A few minutes later Hawthorne returned with the physical copy and placed it carefully on my desk like it was classified information. The cover art alone already made me pause because the artwork was insane. .

Nyla’s POV I'm drawing a pentagram on my apartment floor with sidewalk chalk at midnight on a Tuesday because apparently this is what my life has come to. There’s a leather-bound book open beside me, old, as if it survived the Victorian era. I found it at an estate sale last weekend, buried under a box of porcelain cats, which feels like the universe burying a loaded gun inside a Build-A-Bear. It was quite an… interetsing book. The chapter I keep returning to shows a naked woman arched on her back on the floor, with a demon-man like being, with extra limbs, and an abnormally huge-sized cock burried inside her pussy.