Golden Era Bookworm Novels & Stories

The seating chart was on a small ivory card on the sideboard, and Eleanor checked it as they came in and found that Preston had not been invited, which she registered as either mercy or strategy and could not immediately determine which. She was seated between her uncle Gerrard and Daniel. Gerrard was seventy, red-faced, jovial in the specific way of men who have never had to moderate themselves and have mistaken this for good humor. He collected American antiques. Eleanor had, in the car, considered warning Daniel about Gerrard, and had decided against it for the same reason she’d decided against the shirt: Daniel didn’t need to be managed. Daniel needed to be allowed. Gerrard found Daniel

A faint, sickeningly polite smile touched his lips. "The name is Marcus, Miss Montgomery," the man replied, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that held absolutely no warmth. He raised the blue-glowing satellite terminal, tapping the screen with a single, gloved finger. "And I am the chief archivist for the true author of your family’s destruction. Dominic Vance was a magnificent weapon, a ruthlessly obsessive titan who thought he was dismantling the Montgomery empire for his own personal collection. He actually believed his three-year hunt for you was his own design."

Hated that it didn’t fade. “They’re building a profile on you,” he said quietly. “You specifically.” “I know.” “They think you’re a destabilizer archetype. High cognition. Low compliance. High influence potential.” “And you?” He met her gaze. “They think I’m an amplifier.” The word landed wrong. Nyx closed her tablet slowly. “So I’m the spark and you’re the fuel.” “Yes.” “And they put us in the same room.” “Yes.” “Idiots,” she murmured.

The minute the word came of her condition I was going, it would take more than this world could offer to stop me from going to her. That fucking dragon annoys the hell out of me, but I need to admit he does seem to care for Emerald; and good job too. I had been going through their restricted library for about an hour when I found a book, a book that was dripping in power. The same power that dagger held. My hand hovers over the old worn leather binder, allowing my magic to feel the book out before I touch it.

The wound had been deep, I remembered the pain. My eyes fell on the book Dien had left behind. It was bound in ancient leather, its pages yellowed with age. "Supernatural Beings: The Lost Histories of Werewolf Kind" was etched in fading gold letters on the spine. My hands trembled as I opened it to where Dien had been reading. The chapter title made my heart stop: "The Golden Wolves of the Ancient World." In all my years of reading about werewolves, I'd never encountered anything about golden wolves. I devoured the words on the page, each sentence making my breath come faster. Golden hair that seemed to glow... heightened senses beyond even normal werewolves... extraordinary healing abilitie

I pushed the door open, and the noise inside the room came to an abrupt halt. Seeing my pale face, Claire Musk looked annoyed. "So what if I didn't give you thirty dollars? Who are you trying to scare with that expression, like you're attending a funeral? You're just like those gold-diggers—reeking of greed and utterly vulgar!" Hearing these insults with my own ears, I felt nothing at all. Not anger. Not sorrow. Not even disappointment. When Claire walked toward me, I calmly took a step back—avoiding the nauseating scent clinging to her, a mixture that clearly belonged to another man.

But my real focus wasn’t my reflection. My focus was on the project. The clients. And the determination not to let Damien Hayes think I am not capable. I wore my old black heels. They pinched slightly, but they made me feel taller. _____________________________________________ At the Grand Arc Hotel, my nerves were like many little sparks tickling my skin. Golden light filtered down through the chandeliers. The chandeliers had a shape similar to an upside down crystal fountain. Light reflected off the marble floor. The floor was polished. Shadows of moving people became moving shadows.

Akshara’s heart pumped more blood to know that she was the next to read that weird book with an eye. The book went to Azile who was got on her feet from an unknown faint. The weird look and efficiency of the book thrilled Azile and pages opened to her in words written in mud, “Awaken Love, Shall Not Be A Delight. Let Thy Onus, Vex Your Soul; Perish In Disgrace.” The prophecy book with an eye moved towards Akshara and stood in front of her. Upon eye to eye contact with Akshara, the book flipped its pages and finally settled in a page to uncover her prophecy; the letters appeared in blood made of gold. The prophecy of Akshara,

It was impossible for me to read them all. I looked outside again. The sky was starting to darken. I should go back before it gets darker. As I moved to pick up my bag from the table, the corner of my eye caught something. A book on the bottom row of the shelf looked different from the thick gray-covered books. It was a pale yellow book with golden curvy writing on the side. I crouched down, took the book, and read the title. MYSTERIES OF GOLDEN VALLEY THROUGH THE AGES

"Where’s the book?" He was already holding it, and he passed it to me without a word. The moment it touched my hands, a warmth bloomed in my palms, like the book recognized me. Welcomed me. Zerina? "It knows you," she whispered in my mind. "It’s ready." I ran my fingers over the spine, noting the gemstones embedded in the aged leather. Then my gaze landed on the clasp—a large, oval garnet held in a silver setting, attached to a leather strap that wrapped around the book.