Is Killian's Folly A Real Book Novels & Stories

I tried to double-click the sealed document, but before I could touch it, Killian slammed the laptop shut with a violent thud, forcing me to withdraw my hand at the last second before he crushed my fingers. "Enough," he decreed. Killian rounded the desk with heavy steps and took a couple of steps toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist and taking me by the chin, forcing me to look up. His fingers were hot, sticky from the dried blood, and his golden gaze scanned my soul with a possessive intensity. "Tell me, little bird," his voice dropped to a lethal whisper that made the hair on my arms stand up. "Who are you going to be loyal to now? To your father, or to the one who was your owner lon

Anna was the greatest biological anomaly he had ever seen. "They aren't just runaways, Julian," Killian said, his voice dropping into a lethal, low hum. He tucked the photo into his pocket. "They’re a gold mine. One holds the key to the human halls of power, and the other holds the blood of my enemies and the magic of the gods." He looked toward the window, sensing the distant, faint vibration of a heavy V8 engine fading into the forest. "The prize just got better," Killian whispered. "And I’ve always liked a difficult hunt."

Their daughters ran ahead, laughing and pointing out anything that looked remotely historic, while Killian carried their son in a sling, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breath against his chest. They stopped by the steps of the old library. Killian let Emma go ahead of him while he dug into the inside pocket of his coat. His fingers brushed the worn leather of the small notebook—aged, familiar, and filled with years of memories. She turned to him, her face soft with emotion. “This place still smells like ink and stress.” Killian stepped forward, offering her the notebook. “You dropped this once, remember? That first week.” Emma took it slowly, eyes narrowing. “That notebook…?”

When Killian entered the room, I felt he must have heard me bragging to Scarlett. The heat in his eyes had me dropping my book and crossing my legs, my mouth drying. “You – You are back early,” I muttered as he shrugged off his coat. “What are you reading?” He asked, walking over to me. Only then did I remember I had been absentmindedly flipping through an erotic novel. “N – Nothing.” I hid the book between the cushion and my body.

Before I could say anything else, she lurched off, taking a long pull at her bottle as she headed through the glass sliding doors and into the house. I turned to Killian. “I don’t – I don’t want to – ” He patted my arm consolingly. “Don’t let it trouble you.” “What, Riley?” “No, lookin’ over your shoulder at the dark.” I frowned. “…what?” “There was this book I read once, belonged to a bird datin’ one of me mates. ‘The Secret Language of Birthdays,’ or somethin’ like that. I thought it was going to be shite, but I was actually quite shocked how accurate it was.”

"If they step onto the Ascent, kill them. Don't shift. Don't growl. Just use the silver stakes. I want them to see that the dead don't care about their traditions." I turned and walked back toward the heart of the palace. I needed to see the one person who wasn't a ghost or a soldier. I found Killian in the library. It was one of the few rooms with a fireplace that still worked. He was sitting in a high-backed chair, a heavy wool blanket over his shoulders. He was reading an old, leather-bound book on Northern history. He looked small in the chair. Every time the wind rattled the window, he flinched.

He heard more then one of his she wolves has been his conquests before. “Ah yes, I would love to dig into her past. There’s something, different about you. I can’t quite put my finger on it…” Killian said to them. Then he whipped around and walked quickly to a book shelf halfway around the shop. “I think I have just the book you are looking for around here somewhere. Make yourselves at home.” He started muttering to himself going through the books taking one out here before shaking his head and putting it back just to do it again with another one. Alys laughed and started looking at the items in the display cases.

Rows of towering bookshelves stretched into the gloom, filled with books bound in leather that looked suspiciously like skin. "Where do we start?" I whispered, overwhelmed. "Section X," Killian said, walking straight to the back. " The Anomalies." We spent hours pulling books. The Red Moon of 1402. The Feral Plague. The Betrayal of the South. Dust coated my fingers. My back ached. But I kept reading. "Here," Killian said suddenly. His voice was tight. I rushed over to the table where he was standing. He had a massive, crumbling book open.

Against my will, my hands reached for the handle and turned the knob. As the door swung open, I saw Killian standing by the dresser, a book clutched in his hand. It looked like my missing diary. Temporarily distracted, I stepped forward. “Is that mine?” “Well, it certainly isn't mine.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice. “That's personal! You shouldn't be reading it!” I stalked towards him, intent on retrieving my book. “Then don't leave it open on the dresser, especially not to the parts where you're swooning over that pup.” Killian fairly snarled at me, throwing the book down in obvious disgust.

He held out his palm, his eyes locked on Ella’s. “A bet,” Killian challenged. “If this document is a forgery, I will resign immediately and submit to any punishment you deem fit. I will admit I am a failure and a liar. But… if it is original, if it is the genuine hand of Washington… Then you will do exactly what I ask of you. No questions. No hesitation.” Sweet rain down my spine. Was Killian trying to have us killed? What if they asked us to do something ridiculous. would we？