Needle Nook Atlanta Novels & Stories

I pulled my sleeve down. I crossed the street. The bell above the door chimed when I pushed it open. The human in the chair looked up. The girl at the front desk looked up. Athena did not look up. “We’re fully booked for walk-ins today,” she said, voice even, still focused on the arm in front of her. “I’m not here for a tattoo.” Her hand stilled. Slowly, she set the needle down. Slowly, she looked up. Those dark blue eyes found mine and for exactly one second — one — something moved through them. Then it was gone, sealed over like it had never been there.

ELAINA SANTORO I found myself standing in front of the towering skyline of downtown Atlanta, the cityscape stretching out before me like an intricate maze of possibilities. The bustling streets were alive with the energy of the city, a symphony of honking cars and hurried footsteps. It had been a while since I had set foot in this concrete jungle, and a mix of nostalgia and apprehension coursed through my veins.

Yet, something sits in the pit of my stomach that makes me feel uneasy. In all the time I have been in the arranged engagement with Nico, Mia has never once mentioned a friend in Atlanta, and we have known each other for several years. Nor has she ever talked about anyone knowing a lot about the Santangelo family or Nico. Something doesn’t sit right. I take a look through the glass window to make sure that Odeon is in place. He is in sight looking intimidating. Relieved I go and place the coffee order at the wood bar/counter and leave a false name, Alexa for the barista.

The Alpha or the Luna was incomplete without their significant. "What are you doing here?" Noelle rolled her eyes as she slurped up her yummy noodles. "Craving noodles." She raised her cup and then added, "And some alone time." Ezekiel rolled his eyes as he plopped down next to his mate, the both of them alerted at once when they heard the creak of the roofing panels. "If it gives way and we fall, I am going to make sure you sleep out on the porch for a month." Noelle narrowed her eyes at her mate and got back to her midnight snack.

The dimly lit corner of Noir, the city's most exclusive lounge, provides perfect cover for clandestine meetings. Daphne Munroe sits alone, nursing a glass of cabernet, her manicured fingernails tapping impatiently against the polished surface of the table. Her eyes drift to her watch—an elegant Cartier piece that Lucas once complimented—noting that her mysterious contact is seven minutes late.

"Together." Damian turned the small brass key over in his palm, the metal catching the morning light. It was old—worn smooth at the edges, the tag faded but still legible: 127 – Midtown Bank, Atlanta. No name. No address. Just a number. Nova sat across from him at the kitchen table, her coffee going cold between her hands. "How far is that from here?" she asked, eyes never leaving the key. "About two hours," Damian said. "Maybe less."

He leaned in closer, took over the seatbelt, and looked into Blakely's eyes, gasping nervously. "May I?" he asked hoarsely. His nose sniffed softly around the curve of Blakely's chest. He must have looked really scary right now because Blakely looked terrified as she watched him fasten her seatbelt. But he didn't care. He wants and he will get what he wants. "Tta-thanks." "That necklace fits you perfectly." Nickson drove out of his large yard to the charity venue in the Atlanta City Hall Atrium. His car was speeding, flying the yellow leaves that fell in his yard to create a beautiful yellow leaf vortex.

I read it, then forwarded it to Athena to schedule. Good. At least tonight had produced something besides leaked information. I opened my chat with Noelle. Her last message was still about dinner and prospective clients, along with a photo of the centerpiece she’d sent asking if I could make something like it for her house. I hadn’t answered. Outside the window, the lights of Belladonna glowed down the slope, much softer now that Rowan had fixed the privacy lighting. From Max’s room, the mansion was only a few patches of light between the trees and the dark line of the roof.

And somewhere in Auckland a six year old girl named Zara had gone to sleep knowing her mother had called. And somewhere in federal custody the people who had tried to dismantle everything were sitting with what they'd done. And in the back of a car moving through the Atlanta dawn Irina put her head on Neo's shoulder and felt the baby — too small to feel yet, really, but she felt it anyway, the presence of it and closed her eyes. Nearly over. Then her phone buzzed one more time. She opened one eye. Neo. A text, from the man whose shoulder her head was on, which was the most Neo thing he'd ever done.

Click, click, my nails tapped on the glass as time stood still and I impatiently waited. Beyond the windows, the Georgia sun reminded me that warm weather still existed in late October, even if New York had surrendered to the impending winter. I pushed my sunglasses onto my head as my purse vibrated in my lap. NOX - PRIVATE NUMBER I sighed, wishing he were beside me instead of back in the frigid North. Nox: "ANY WORD"? Me: "NOT YET. DELORIS IS STILL INSIDE." Nox: "I'M LEAVING IN A FEW MINUTES. THE BATPLANE IS FUELED AND READY. I'LL BE THERE IN STEALTH SPEED."