Fantastic Fiction Nora Roberts Novels & Stories

The glass walls were now covered in heavy blinds, the once minimal decor replaced with a plush leather recliner, a small side table with an assortment of oils and towels, and a discreet fridge in the corner, stocked not with water bottles, but with labeled glass jars awaiting their fill. Nora stood in the center of the room, heart pounding, wearing nothing but a silk robe that Roman had left folded on her desk that morning. The fabric kissed her skin as if it were complicit in what was about to happen. Her breasts, full again, throbbed with anticipation. She had only just arrived that morning, but already the ache had returned. It was as if her body had learned to respond to their presence,

No one else could have slipped through the protective wards without triggering alarms, but Nora had always been the exception not just to the rules of this place, but to every carefully constructed belief I had once held. She stood with her back to me, half-illuminated by the glow of a floating orb light hovering near her shoulder. Books were scattered across the long table in front of her, some open, others sealed with ancient wax and forgotten sigils. Her fingers trembled as she traced the faded ink of a map. Her eyes, when she glanced up at my approach, were sharp, wary, and far too tired. “You’re not supposed to be in here,” she said without preamble, like I was just another problem she

She was still somewhat of a stranger, but she had a very friendly, bright aura that drew me to her and made me like her instantly. “So,” I started, “do you make it a habit to pick flowers in parks with strange children?” Nora laughed. “You would be surprised how many strange things I've done in my life. Once, in France, I spent a week in a random RV with a bunch of hippies heading to the countryside.” I laughed. “You seem like a carefree soul.” She beamed. “I like to think I am.” “You must make your family worry a lot,” I teased.

incredible. Fearless. Lethal. And beautiful. My fear gave way to awe, and then to relief. She wasn't in danger; she was the one handling the danger. I felt a smile spread across my face, pride and admiration swelling in my chest. I took a step forward, my eyes locked on hers, but she didn't seem to notice me. She was still on high alert, her gaze scanning the surroundings, ready for the next threat. Nora stood in a clearing, surrounded by the bodies of at least six rogues. Blood spattered her clothes, her face. But it was her eyes that shocked me most— fiery, glowing with power that should have been impossible for her to access.

That is the other wrongness. Fate watches for disruption. It responds to bent threads with correction. It tightens the pattern when certainty is threatened. This should have drawn its attention. But Nora does not register through the weave. She never has. A blind spot. Structural. Nora pauses in front of a bookstore window, her reflection overlaying covers of romance novels and poetry collections. A normal moment. A human one. And the future around her remains pliable. Not unstable. Pliable. Like clay kept warm.

Why? “Let them go,” Ora yells. “Make me,” Millicent challenged. Ora is no match for Millicent. She is pure evil. The Witch Queen struggled to fight her off, and she was at full power. “Run Ora. Run.” Father Nicholas yelled before Millicent instructed a wolf to use him as a chew toy. It has to be a rogue. Not a chance that a sane wolf would maul a human, especially not in a house of faith. I look up to the rafters and can see movement. Millicent must have cast a spell on the town to get so many creatures here undetected.

He placed one more kiss on my lips before walking out with Ronan, their steps urgent and precise. I turned around and saw Nora smiling at something Rosella was showing her on her phone. Great. She was starting to take away my best friend too. “What’s so funny?” I asked, going back to sit on the barstools near the kitchen counter. “Uhnm, I was just showing Nora this thread about this thriller show,” she said, and I felt a small sense of power at the way she stuttered answering me. Nora loved thrillers. It was half the reason she had such an interestingly violent nature.

, she replied. The woman, apparently unfazed by Mr. Samuels's demeanor, extended her hand towards me with a gracious smile. "And who might this be?" she inquired, her gaze lingering on me with a hint of curiosity. I offered a polite smile in return, though I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over me in Nora's presence. "I'm Sara," I replied evenly, careful to maintain a neutral expression. "Pleased to meet you." Nora's smile widened at my response, though there was a calculating glint in her eyes that didn't escape my notice. "Sara, how lovely," she remarked, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. "I'm Nora Roberts, a friend of Zack's."

The sun had already set by the time I finished work. Jaime always called this place a remote village. Every minute here felt like torture to her. I thought she would not be able to stand it and would leave. To my surprise, she waited outside my office door. When she saw me, she stood up at once and hurried to my side. “Joseph, you still haven’t told me what happened. Did your mother really die?” I stopped walking and looked at her. A cold laugh escaped me. “My mother died. Isn’t that what you wanted? Your mother’s so‑called killer finally paid the price. Are you satisfied now?”

Based on the tall tale she told me about robberies happening more often in her neighborhood, I didn’t expect her to live in a fancy place, but I’m baffled to see her door broken off its hinges. She is equally puzzled, hands over her mouth. She may have pissed someone off, but probably didn’t expect them to make such a move. "Does this happen often?" I don’t wait for her response before pushing the broken door out of the way, simultaneously reaching for the gun at my waist. Only when I’ve ascertained there’s no one in the house waiting for Kira do I let her in. "You may have been robbed," I say, motioning to the scattered mess of her clothes and books. "Take whatever is left that is of value