Intruder In The Dust Book Novels & Stories

But Alexander turned, holding my hand firmly, and stepped into the house. The dust floating around the air tickled my nose and I thought I would sneeze, so I covered my mouth and fought the urge, afraid that if I made a sound, it would alert whoever was inside. Because even though the dust swimmed in the air, and the light switches we tried failed to send electricity to the light bulbs, there were used plates in the kitchen sink with the fresh remnants of stains on them. A kettle on the stove whistled to life, startling me into Alexander’s side. Whoever was here was around here somewhere, perhaps hiding, or just not expecting us. Cautiously, we walked ahead to the living room. The furniture

I took a deep breath and pushed open the creaking door, stepping into the musty darkness within. The air inside was thick with dust, and cobwebs clung to the chandeliers like macabre tapestries. I coughed, my lungs protesting the stale air. Every step I took echoed off the walls, making me feel like an intruder in a place where time had stood still. I fumbled in my purse for my phone, intending to call for backup, but my hand closed on empty air. I had left it behind, in my haste to arrive. Damn! Damn!

The urn fell from his hands and crashed into the floor, causing my ashes to scatter everywhere. His smirk now malicious, Dominic said, "Oops! Sorry about that. It slipped from my hands." After that, he stuck out a foot and began grinding my ashes down. My breath was hitched in my throat as I met Dominic's eyes, which were devoid of any mirth. I opened my mouth, yet I couldn't make a sound. Only when my ashes were completely ground into the gaps between the tiles and mixed with the dust did Dominic retract his foot. There was a pleased look on his face.

“Said you were protecting me!” “I am!” Sasha snaps, knife out, eyes darting. “These assholes jumped us—I didn’t know!” The scarred guy laughs, twirling his blade. “Kid’s got the mark. Hand him over, and you walk, girl.” My stomach twists. Jerry’s alpha mark—the bloodstone’s pull. I shove the book deeper under my jacket, looking for a way in. A side door’s half-open, hinges creaking. I slip inside, heart hammering, and crouch behind barrels. The air stinks of oil and salt. A pipe’s on the ground—good enough for a weapon. I grab it, hands shaky.

Suddenly freeing herself from the security guards, she pulled out a tiny glass bottle from her handbag that contained a dark brown liquid. My eyes widened—it was acid! It all happened so fast. As Susie laughed maniacally, and the crowd screamed in panic, she unscrewed the cap and splashed the acid at my face. I closed my eyes before I knew it, resigning myself to fate… However, the pain I expected never came, and I eventually noticed the broad chest right in front of me—all the acid had splashed all over Harry's back. Hiss! "Ugh!" He groaned in pain, as the acid burned through the fabric of his clothes audibly, and the pungent scent of charred flesh swirled in the air.

Nothing gave away the identity. My fingers hovered over the spine, then unsuccessfully I tried to read it but I could read one word. ‘Rogue’ My hand froze. Rogues? The memory of those rogues in the ruins flashed in my mind. Was this book about rogues? Who were they? Why were they… Then suddenly a voice came like smoke against my ear. “You like touching things that don’t belong to you?” I gasped, spine stiffening, heart leaping into my throat. His scent hit me first—stormy, rich, dangerous.

The dust on each page made it hard to see, let alone read. “I’m sorry that I hit you with a ball,” he said, his voice tentative, almost reluctant, as though the apology tasted strange on his tongue. I blinked. My attention had been buried in the book I was trying—unsuccessfully—to read. I shut it abruptly, wincing as a small puff of dust escaped the brittle pages and floated up into my face. I coughed once, barely suppressing a grimace. The old thing was probably older than both of us combined, and the musty scent clung stubbornly to the air. The dust irritated my nostrils, and breathing felt like dragging air through fine sand.

'' Sylvia vowed. She took a screenshot of the photo as evidence in case he tried to deny it. Now that was done, she decided to remove her mind from it and focus on what was most important, the book. Drawing it out from where she hid it, Sylvia dusted the covers of the book. Anytime she picked it up to read, she realized that it was always so dusty. She didn't know why but one thing she knew was that this book was not your normal book. There were so many mysteries within it that a human mind wouldn't be able to grasp it at all.

I removed my shirt and I placed it aside, I was only wearing a cropped top underneath as I began to dust thoroughly. While dusting, my hand brushed against the shelf but before it could fall I held onto it, keeping it in it's normal position but then I came across a novel. It was quite dusty and I couldn't read it's contents, I cleaned it and saw the name inscribed "Her submissive and his master". The thoughts of Dante flashed into my head and I smirked while flipping through the pages. "A mother uses her son as her sex toy!" I read the words out loud and I became intruiged to know more.