If You Come Softly Audiobook Novels & Stories

Axel was just too protective. He would get nervous when I was bitten by mosquitoes, got marks from sleeping on my hands or even when I was eating less. However, that was what I loved about him — the way he cared about me. The lights in the banquet hall were dim, but the gems on the ground sparkled in the dim light. Reagan felt something sharp under his feet, so he bent down to pick up a gem on the ground. It was the largest sapphire on the Eternal Sincerity bracelet.

I look at his hair, and I know it's overgrown, but I like the way it falls down his neck. "I am sorry," I mutter and then clear my throat. "I was reading. My eyes search for the book on the bed, and then I take it up. "I fell asleep and was woken up by someone screaming at the door; I thought it was nothing," I explain, and he nods, letting out a breath. "I am glad you are okay," he says, and even though I had thought of him as a man who is after my life, I can feel a certain degree of softness radiating from me. It feels too unfamiliar. Too gentle. And I don’t know what to do with gentle.

It made his chest ache, in a way that was full and grounded and indescribably human. “You know,” he said, finally breaking the quiet, “I didn’t fall in love with you because of how strong you are.” Sophie turned, eyes narrowing playfully. “You didn’t?” “No.” He walked toward her, slow and steady. “I fell in love with you because of how gentle you are. Even when the world hasn’t been kind back.” She blinked, caught off guard by the softness of it. He stepped closer until he was just inches away. “Your strength is what people see. But your softness—that’s what I stayed for.”

“Come, come with us.” The voices are getting louder. As it is getting heavier and stronger. The more that he struggles and the more that he tries to get it off of him. “Why don’t you come? Why won’t you leave? Come with us, be with me.” Their provoking continues as their voices are in a mixed tone of gentle, soft, deep, shallow, strong, and seductive. It’s echoing unto his mind as the voice giggles with the tone of a sinister embrace and a devil’s taunting desire.

It became a stage. Her spine straightened. Her breath hitched—shallow, quick. And then the crowd ahead parted. He was there. No shadows this time. No distance. Just him. The man from the bookstore. He stepped into view like he’d always belonged to the night—like it had sculpted him from its stillness, summoned him from patience and need. The ghost behind glass. The storm she had spent months trying not to name. He walked toward her—not with violence, but with certainty. A quiet, devastating grace. Like gravity doesn’t ask. It just pulls. The air around him shimmered with restraint. With the unbearable tension of something that hasn’t broken—yet.

The semi-closed door opened once again, and Spencer strode in. His voice was not loud, but it had such a sense of authority it made an unignorable impact. The room suddenly fell deathly quiet.

“Psychological studies mostly.” His smile fades slightly. “Fiction?” “Oh. Right.” I clear my throat. “Yes. Fiction too.” “Favourite novel?” Why was this suddenly feeling like an oral exam? I panic and blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Gone Girl.” The interviewer goes silent and just stares at me. Then he finally says. “Interesting choice for a library focused on family and community engagement.” Right. What I mentioned was an erotic murder thriller. Terrible choice for the family and community.

back into the toxic desires. “Let her in.” His deep voice rumbled through his chest, making me resist the urge to shiver, almost delightfully under it. It was a strange roughness, a guttural sound my ears heard, but set my body humming, like it was the sweetest of harmonies. Just as I let out a deep breath, the doors opened smoothly, no cringing creaks to here as someone stepped forwards. The sound of soft and light footsteps told me it was a girl .. perhaps Viviane.

“Even when part of me wants to be held instead.” My voice doesn’t shake. That surprises me. “I’m telling you this because I don’t want to repeat it here,” I finish. “I don’t want to default to strength if what I actually need is softness.” The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s deliberate. He takes a moment—not because he’s unsure, but because he’s choosing precision. “Thank you for trusting me with that,” he says finally. “And for not presenting it as a demand.” I feel something in my chest loosen.

He was looking at me intently too. How in the world would Alpha Kayden have spoken so softly? This was just totally unbelievable! If someone else had told me about this, I would never have believed it but no! I just heard that incredibly soft voice from him with my very own ears or did my ears malfunction and transform his harsh voice into a soft one before getting to my brain? I heard him clear his throat slightly as I looked back to the floor. "Mantha, speak up" his voice came, this time impatient and quite harsh and I breathed out in relief.