Mason The Book Novels & Stories

Just stare at the screen like I'm seeing a ghost. "Mason," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper. The name clearly doesn't mean anything to Caroline, but it means everything to me. Mason was the constant in our chaotic household—the one who bandaged our scraped knees, mediated our fights, and somehow managed to keep two very different boys from killing each other. On the small screen, I can see him clearly. Still straight-backed despite his age, his silver hair neatly combed, wearing a worn but well-maintained coat. But there's something haunted in his expression, and he's clutching what looks like a leather-bound book against his chest.

Up close, I could see better how beautiful the blue combined with honey of his left eye was, and how clear the honey color of his right eye was. Mason tilted his head. “Do you like my eyes?” I looked away. “No, they're just…” fascinating, different. “Different...” Mason said the word slowly as if evaluating something. Looking down, I could see the book resting on his lap: 100 Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez. A classic, huh? Mason lifted the book slightly. “I told you I liked to read.” "I didn't think you were telling the truth." He raised an eyebrow. "Have I ever lied to you?"

They were bright red Mason????

That's how he has these drawings of the Red ghoul’ “What the hell are you doing in my room?” Mason’s voice cut through the air, from behind me. Immediately, in a blur of instinct, I lunged, my claws wrapping around his throat as I pinned him against the wall. My eyes were glowing its usual crimson red, Zane and I were sharing partial control. I needed answers and I was going to get them right now. I thrust the book before his face, watching his eyes widen, before I toss it to the floor.

"Go on. I know you needed to talk to him too." Following Wesley's suggestion, I went to the library and he was right. Mason Green was there, settled on a plush couch while holding an antique-looking book. He looked engrossed in it as he flipped to the other page. Somehow watching him read a book felt a bit out of character. He didn't strike me as someone who would read a boring-looking book unless it was the ancient issue of the Playboy magazine. Mason's eyes briefly drifted to me. He frowned before turning his gaze back to the book he was supposedly reading.

Chapter 107 ** Theo’s POV ** This is not how I planned to spend the rest of this year! I was supposed to be having crazy sex parties with my bond group and learning how to use my gifts ready to defend the realm at some point in the distant future. Instead, I'm tramping across a muddy field in December, freezing my ass off whilst I lug a tent, sleeping bags, food and drinks to Mason because he refuses to come back to the apartment. I’m also alone. Which should be pretty much impossible for someone in such a large bond group. Josie is trapped in a different realm. Deacon is hopefully with her but potentially trapped in the void or already dead. Luke is being a taxi service to collect everyone

"Maybe we should call someone, security or..." "No." Caspian held up a hand, while still staring at me. He didn’t look afraid, he looked unsettled, and that was something. I reached into my bag and pulled out the magazine, unfolding the page I had bookmarked. "This," I said, "is your face but it’s not your life. You disappeared a year ago, everyone thought you were gone, dead, missing but you are here. You just don’t remember, I don’t know what happened to you, but I swear to you, you are him. You are my Mason."

"Then we need to understand it. Properly. You can't afford to lose control, not with everything going on." His concern wasn't judgmental. It was concern, real and that spread warmth through me. I swallowed. "I know." *** The fastest way to understand something is to go to the library. So here I stood… for what felt like the hundredth freaking time since I was born. Mason’s library was massive—towering shelves stretching endlessly upward, walls swallowed by books, scrolls, and ancient artifacts sealed behind glass. It made the Pack library look like a children’s reading corner. Warm golden lights glowed overhead.

MARIELLA Two weeks of being in this goddamn mansion with the same routine. Two weeks of misery. I couldn’t blame Eros. His initiation was in five days and he had been managing both his domain as the underboss of Manhattan and the CEO of Castellanos industries single-handedly. But I had thought he would . . . Why would he? We were now bound by nothing but a contract.

He mindlinked him, and he nodded, sniffing. "What the fuck is going on here?" A familiar voice asked behind them, making Hashmuk let go of Rasmore. The person standing behind them was the person he was crying for, thinking he had left him. It was Kelvin, with a pile of magic books in his hands. He and his friends smelled like they were coming from the sewer.