Kristin Powers Book Novels & Stories

But the rhythm was the same—alive, indifferent, relentless. I passed a bookstore and paused. In the window, a display caught my eye. A stack of books titled Power Without Permission. My name on the cover. I stared at it longer than necessary. Not because I was proud. But because I remembered the girl who once believed power had to be granted. I stepped inside and bought a copy. At home, I placed the book on the shelf beside others—histories, theories, stories written by women who refused erasure. It fit there.

“Worse. Three flagged shell companies in Panama. Unpaid taxes since 2018. Two lawsuits quietly paid off. And your dear cousin MJ? Cheated her way through college—contracted people to write her entire senior thesis.” Krystal tilted her head, absorbing it all, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. Pain. Satisfaction. A strange cocktail of the two. “Thank you,” she said softly, almost too softly for someone who once tipped a hairdresser with a penny like it was royal decree. I wanted to say something personal. Something bold. Instead, I said, “You deserve to win, Krystal.” She blinked. “Why do you care?” “I don’t know. Maybe because you remind me what power looks like when it’s earned.”

Maybe what is written inside will be the key to figuring out this big secret that Singto will just not tell him about. Clandestinely, Krist picked it up from where it was placed and tucked it into his shirt. If Singto wasn’t going to say anything, then Krist will find out about him on his own terms. He doesn’t want to really snoop around, but he feels like he isn’t going to get anywhere until he knows the actual truth. And seeing as Singto wasn’t going to admit to anything, anytime soon Krist will read about it. Soon enough, Singto’s secret and dark past will all be revealed and Krist is ready to find out the truth. “Holly, could I ask you something?” Ken’s attention was currently fixated on

The woman who’d turned sex into power until I couldn’t tell the difference. How the hell was I going to fix this? I took one step toward the door of the Room of Ecstasy—ready to explain when the door opened. Kris stepped out. Fully dressed. Skirt smoothed. Blouse buttoned. Bag slung over her shoulder. The contract clutched in white-knuckled fingers. Tears shimmered in her eyes—bright, unshed, devastating. Shit. “Hey…”

Kristen said, looking deep at him “then why give me this power in the first place?” Mr Creed looked at her in silence, unable to respond. He slowly shook his head without without showing any expression. “I’ll take my leave then,” Kristen said softly. She bowed her head slightly and walked toward the house. As she disappeared through the doorway, Mr Creed smirked to himself. “This is indeed Amara’s child,” he muttered with a chuckle then laughed again, louder this time, before heading back to his car and driving off quickly. Inside, Naomi met Kristen just as she entered the hallway. Kristen handed her a small note silently and continued upstairs.

“You have such a beautiful packhouse, Alpha Kristen. Damon and I were just saying how much we admire the way you run things here. Very… disciplined.” Her fingers brushed her bump as she spoke, a calculated movement. Kristen inclined his head. “We take pride in keeping our pack safe.” His tone was polite, distant, but his eyes—still on me—betrayed his restraint. Karen’s smile sharpened as she caught it. “And yet,” she said softly, “I hear whispers. Strange ones. Of wolves returning when they shouldn’t. Of powers awakening where they don’t belong. Rumors travel fast, don’t they?”

I don’t think she’ll ever flat-out ask, and after I used magic to get some creep who assaulted her to confess to the police, she wouldn’t risk exposing our secrets. “Oh shit,” Kristy mumbles, looking up when the bell over the door chimes. “Go to the back, I’ll handle this.” “What?” I look up, following her gaze. “The fuck?” My blood instantly boils, and it takes everything I have to keep my powers in check and not cause the lights to dim in the store. My brother steps inside the bookstore and looks around. Now he’s the definition of smug. Of an asshole. Of a waste of life.