Journey Of The Heart Book Novels & Stories

They weren't just words, they were like a key unlocking my heart, mind and the shy wolf inside me. I never thought their acceptance could be this liberating. I could almost feel their wolves circling mine and rubbing against her fur welcoming her among them. Alex's hand rubbing my back felt warmer. His scent was stronger and more alluring. A hole in my heart was suddenly filled with an intense sense of fellowship.

Perhaps it’s for the best, a clean break to heal the cracks in my heart. Samuel helps me with my bags, transferring them from the taxi to Stefano’s sleek black Mercedes Benz G-Class. I pay the driver, my movements mechanical, my mind a thousand miles away. As we pull away, I turn back, my eyes searching the abandoned building, a desperate plea for Stefano to appear, to give me one last glimpse of his face. But he doesn’t come, and as the building fades from view, the sadness in my chest intensifies, a gaping wound that refuses to heal.

Then my mind wanders off to Antonio words: "Is not really the matter of being a softy dumbass. I just find the story similar to what happened to you. I'm dead serious! You've got to read this book, perhaps after reading you can tell me if I was wrong or right" I don't know when my fingers has typed the title of the book and it's author and now I was at A****n Kindle page. In the page, the book cover is designed with white background and then it had a broken shaped hearts on the background with the title written in red 'Shattered Hearts' and it's author name below the cover Micaela Alvarado. Seeing this book again sent turbulence to my heart like in the afternoon when I'd seen it.

I put the shirt down and look at the item I had wrapped in the shirt. It was a glass rose; it didn’t have any color it was completely clear but down the steam in gold letters down the stem of the rose said, ‘I’ll always come home Rose’. My father got it for me on my seventh birthday. At the time I was having reoccurring nightmares that he was going on a deployment and then never comes home, my dad stayed with me every night after I would wake up screaming and tell me he would always come home. Ever since he gave me this he has always and only called me Rose, everyone else calls me Ro, but he won’t.

Why'd he have to look so good? I looked down at the books he had given me. There were five total and I realized that I had never read any of these to Nate. I looked at the first one and turned it over, reading the back. A little boy that encounters a giant in the forest. The little boy uses his quick thinking and courage to escape the giant and return to his family. Being back home, he realizes the love and security of his family are all the support and strength that he needs and that knowing his family is there for him, he can face any fears. It seemed to really fit not only the situation tonight but also the bond that Nate and I had so that was the one that I selected.

River's fingers danced across the spines, devouring titles that whispered promises of resilience and courage. "The Blind Voyager", "The Lame Warrior's Triumph", "Against All Odds", and "Unlikely Heroes" each resonated deeply, but one title in particular caught her eye: "The Story of Alero, Blind Healer". With gentle reverence, River pulled out the slim volume, its cover adorned with intricate, raised patterns that evoked the delicate petals of a flower. The book did not come out alone, it came with another document: a large parchment like the one in her dream!

This book is a piece of me, and now, it’s also a piece of you. Until the next story… With all my heart, Clara. J. Stari