Novel & Cerita I Shall Not Be Moved Book

Ishtar had picked up the stone before it hit the ground. ************* Note: Don't forget to like, comment and share the book! This really helps it grow on the platform

“I agree wholeheartedly, Your Grace.” * * * * Lindsay stood next to Barry in front of a clergyman as he read out of the Book of Common Prayer. Her grandmother had told her she’d be nervous today, but Lindsay wasn’t. Excitement ran through her veins, and she couldn’t stop smiling. Love blossomed inside of her, and each new day with Barry would only be an adventure, she was certain.

More, and more. End of Book 1

said Ika. #to be continued in Chapter 12.4 - You Will Know Me

But those words never followed me into the hallways, where laughter stuck to my back like something I couldn’t peel off. “Hey, move.” I shifted before I even looked up. I always did. It was easier that way—less eye contact, less chance of becoming the center of whatever joke they were about to make. My books slipped a little in my arms, but I held them tighter. “Did you hear me?” one of them said, stepping closer. “I moved,” I muttered. “Not fast enough.” The shove wasn’t hard enough to knock me down, just enough to remind me that it could’ve been worse. It was always like that—just enough.

Not a scratch. Exhausted, we both collapsed to the ground, surrounded by ancient books. When I pulled the book from the flames, I realized it wouldn't leave my hand. It was stuck to my palm. "Micha—" He stepped closer, ready to help, but I shook my head. "Relax. A book can't hurt me." If only I knew. The book began to move on its own. The pages beat like a heart. Heat spread across my palm, burning my skin.

Donato spun around, but nothing was there. His pulse thundered. His breaths came short. He turned back to the pedestal— and nearly choked on air. Because the book was open. Its pages turned on their own. Slowly, deliberately like fingers of wind were flipping through fate. "No…" he whispered. "Stop." But the pages turned faster— faster—until they slammed onto one single page. The writing etched onto it shimmered like liquid black fire. And the temple whispered into his bones— "Three will go forward…

Until we meet again, sweet girl, I hope you're dancing with the angles. END OF BOOK ONE

He closed them behind him. The library was empty again. I did not move for three seconds. I could not. I sat with my hand flat on the cover of The Hierarchies and Rights of the True Alpha and the small bright bell in my chest ringing the way a bell rings when it has been struck twice in twelve hours by a hand that has not yet decided whether it has the right to strike it a third time. Three seconds. I had not been able to move for three seconds.