Metanoia Book Novels & Stories

The room fell into a stillness as everyone halted, their attention fixed on Mathias. "You claim to be an alpha, preaching about betrayal and the greater good of humanity. Yet, in truth, you embody the epitome of betrayal. Your love extends only to yourself. In fact, you are no true alpha..." Mathias began, his voice resolute, recounting the revelations contained within the book.

“But gradually that began to change and soon I was jealous of any man she showed positive attention to because she only ever yelled at me which caused me to be short-tempered with her.” Rayne shakes her head, and a small smirk touches the corner of her lips. “The turning point for me was after my near-death experience with the alcohol. I realised when I was in the center that the reason, I was self-imploding was because I was suppressing my emotions from when I was a teenager and as they were trying to surface my logical, yet irrational mind was fighting against it turning me into a first-class asshole.” Both of them chuckle but I see hints of sadness in their eyes as they remember my hospit

- I responded back, burying my thoughts deep. My face flushed realizing that he had been able to pick up these X-Rated thoughts so easily since I had been so deep into it. The book hadn't helped at all to keep my mind on my task for the day. It had been the equivalent of "See Spot Run" in the Draygonian world. Nerrian rolled his eyes and closed the book. He set it off to the side on a pile of books that never quite made it back to his shelves. I don't think this will work today. Nerrian admitted shaking his head.

"After all, I dont have any basis to show you, I only have my gut feel and its not very helpful at all." "But you're right. My scholar is the murderer." "Yeah..." She whispered. "What are we going to do now? What if we die here? What if–" "Shh... calm down Doreen." Alistair said. "I know this book wont allow that." She heaves out a sigh. "I hope you're right." I hope this book wont really forsake us. Because so far, the only good thing that she experienced inside this book is meeting the author itself– Metamorphoses also known as Prince Alistair. Cheesy right? But that's how she truly feel right now. She's thankful that she met the man who's in front of her right now.

Besides, it wasn’t a big deal. “You really like to analyze yourself.” Myra shook her head in disagreement. Heather knows the reason behind everything, but she is not willing to change. What a stubborn girl. “You should read a book. It’s my new book that contains a lot of my self-analysis.” Heather hurriedly changed the subject. “What’s the name of your book? I’ll buy a whole box of it.” At that moment, Matthias was picking out books to read in the bookstore. He casually picked up the book in front of him but put it back after taking a few glances at the cover.

Megaara walked over to his with a glass of water and joined him by leaning against the wall to stare at the busy stage. He knew what she said was true, but he also knew this was her attempt at making him feel better about himself. This simple book alone was responsible for the horrible life he had. The book that made his pack detest him and abandon him. The book that made him 'abnormal'. An 'abomination' to the werewolf community. Looking back toward the stage he finds the elders reciting verses off the said book in ancient wolvish, stretching out their hands at Hades who sat on a throne at the perfect center under the pale circle of light emitted by the vibrant full moon.

It echoed in the huge chamber. “Who is your coven leader?” he asked. Caitlin stared back, debating how to answer. She had no idea what to say. “I don’t have a leader,” she said. “And I don’t belong to any coven. I am here by myself.” “You know the punishment for trespass,” he stated, a smile growing at the corner of his mouth. “If there is anything worse than immortality,” he continued, “it is immortality in pain.” He stared at her.

I instinctively replied, "Yes, I'm done." A man in a white robe appeared behind me like a ghost and said, "Congratulations, Ms. Martinez. Because of your kind nature, your soul is pure. From now on, you can join the direct department of the underworld." Then, I realized that I was also a ghost. I excitedly circled around him and asked, "Are you White Enforcer? What about Black Enforcer? Where is he?" "Who's Black Enforcer? I don't know anyone by that name."

Her hand is soft like a baby's ass and smooth like it hasn't done any work at all. Gian started to pray. It was a known fact that the Italian Mafia are religious. It was ironic, given what we do for business. But it was a great facade. The public sees us going to church and kisses our feet. It gives them the idea that wealth is achieved by praying on your knees to God. It makes us a good example. Therefore, we use religion to manipulate the people, ask them who’s doing who, make them our slaves unknowingly. But I remember nonna, when she was still alive, how frequently she prayed. I told her she was a phony, because she killed for a living and prayed for forgiveness everyday. She had me thro

When you hunted apex predators, knowledge was the only equalizer. But something about this collection felt... off. It wasn’t tactical. It was frantic. I shifted a stack of papers. Beneath them lay medical journals about viral transmission. Ancient texts on the transition process. This wasn’t just studying the enemy. She was studying the Change. A thick, leather-bound book sat open near the edge of the desk, an anime-themed bookmark keeping the page. I picked it up, the leather cold in my hand. A tight, sickening knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I read the chapter heading in bold, archaic script.