Luca Books Novels & Stories

Done with his selection he stepped outside to wait for the package. As he skimmed around his current surroundings, he read the signpost above an old bookshop. 'Ode Silver Books.' He read it three times. Perhaps it was a coincidence and nothing alarming, but Luca became uncomfortable. One after the other, his instincts became sharper at pointing out all the faults in this town. Luca was not a fan of slaughtering animals but the constant collision of meat, wood and metal led him to take more than a look at the fat man chopping down what seemed to be a pig. He thought the noise was the only thing ticking him off until a piece of meat fell.

Luca considered this with the genuine thoughtfulness that lived underneath his easy manner, the part of him that observed carefully and formed accurate assessments and usually kept them to himself unless he had decided to deploy them. "He laughs," he said. "Not often. Not loudly. But it happens and it's real when it does." He looked at me steadily. "It didn't happen before. Not in the last several years." A pause. "And he's home at seven. He hasn't been reliably home at any hour for as long as I can remember. The work used to take everything. He let it." I sat with that. "He also argues about books," Luca added. "Which I have never witnessed in my life. He called me last week to tell me I wa

Luca hesitated, then nodded. Adrian retrieved one of the books from the shelf, a simple, colorful picture book about a little fox who finds a home after a long journey. As he read, his voice steady and soothing, I watched Luca’s expression soften. His tiny hands relaxed their grip on the dinosaur, his eyelids drooping just a bit. But when Adrian closed the book, the calm didn’t last. It started with a whimper. At first, I thought he was just shifting in his sleep, but then the whimper turned into a soft, broken sob. Luca’s little body trembled beneath the blankets, and his breathing grew quick and shallow.

Luca said simply while chewing his carrots. Luca was back in his office while Emilia gave herself the tour of the house, she had been in the library for two hours now, lost between pages of different books she had picked up, mostly first edition books. She wondered who read all these book certainly not Luca, at least he didn’t seem like someone who reads anything outside of his business contracts.

I'd do the heist, perfectly well I must add and I wanted something in return. Luca turned and his cold dark gaze met mine as he slowly advanced and for the first time in what felt like forever, I was intimidated. It wasn't just because of his power, it was because Luca wasn't like anyone I'd met since I was sold. He was calm, and collected and showed less emotion than a block of ice. His whole aura and presence were predatory. It made you cautious of your actions because he was unpredictable.

Luca had finally fallen asleep after hours of restless tossing, his arm draped possessively across my waist. I'd lain awake beside him, counting his breaths, waiting for them to deepen into the rhythm of true sleep. Now, as pale gray light began filtering through the heavy curtains, I carefully lifted his arm and slid out from under its weight; he stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, and my heart stopped but then he settled back into sleep, his face softer than I'd ever seen it. For a moment, just a brief, traitorous moment, I hesitated. Then I remembered the men in the boutique, the guns, the cold revelation of what Luca truly was—a king of violence, of blood, of a world that w

They were just decoration, proof of wealth and status. Luca walked to one of the shelves and ran his fingers along the spines. "Dante, Petrarch, Leopardi," he murmured. "You have first editions." "They came with the house." Luca pulled out a slim volume and opened it carefully. "This is worth a fortune. Do you even know what you have here?" "Books," Dante said. "Just books." "They're not just books." For the first time since Vienna, there was something like life in Luca's voice. "They're history. Art. Someone's entire soul poured onto pages." He looked up at Dante. "Can I read them?"

Aurora squeezed his hand tightly, her heart swelling as the city lights began to flicker on below them, one by one, mimicking the steady burn of the stars above. And somewhere deep within the quiet corners of his mind, completely detached from the weight of destiny, creation, or war, Luca started meticulously planning something new. Something far more terrifying than facing the Devourer. Something that required an immense amount of mortal courage. A proposal.

LUCA “NINA!” The sudden, unexpected, thunderous voice I unintentionally released makes both Nina and the asshole jump in surprise. "L-Luca?" Her voice gives a high-pitch squeak while her eyes widen in vivid surprise. The guy stares at me then at her before he speaks, "You know, Luca de Milano? The Luca de Milano?!" His eyes and his smile widened, processing the thought. "I am a huge fan!" Oh boy, a sense of deja vu looming in my mind.

I lean forward a little, peering at the book, confused. “What is it?” I ask, interested and feeling for my mate, trying to pass encouragement down the bond but feeling it hit a bit of a brick wall. What’s up with that, anyway? “It’s…the history of a battle,” Luca says, glancing over at me, continuing to sound embarrassed. “The map shows…where the troops were when they started, and where and how they moved, how many troops they lost. And then the textbook poses a question – what’s the best thing to do next? And I’m supposed to write a damn essay on what the best move is, and why but…” he sighs, shaking his head and dropping it, looking absolutely defeated. “I just can’t make sense of it – I d