Novel 5 Novels & Stories

It was an opportunity to create the world she have ever wanted with the kind of people she always wished for. She looked at Mercury and her lips curved into a smile. In her novel, Mercury is one of the strongest people, almost impossible to fight cause he sold his soul in exchange for power. She made him powerful that it would be impossible to bring him down. She did it cause she had a plan to power up the male lead. If she could get Mercury on her side, she would be invincible. Rielle was surprised at herself. She should be worried and bothered about being in a different world but here she is, happy about everything. Happy that she was in a world she created and can control at her own will.

Chapter 55 – The Queen's Move The city was quiet. So quiet that one can hear the sound of a dropped pin, but not enough to distract Lena and her team. Lena stood in the window of her new office, gazing out at the skyline. It still smelled of gunpowder. Romano's body wasn't even cold before his empire was sold. People were standing by, observing, unsure what the next move would be. She wasn't sure, either. "Report," she said without glancing around.

It wasn't the symbol of the First World anymore. It was something new. A symbol that didn't belong to any creator. The four symbols in the sky suddenly reacted. Fire. Water. Darkness. Stars. All four began moving toward Elara. Elias stared. “Elara…” “What?” “You're not becoming their heir.” “Then what am I becoming?” He looked at the new symbol. “The fifth.” Elara's eyes widened. “The fifth world?” “No.” Elias shook his head. “The fifth creator.” Silence filled the tower.

At the same time, I suddenly got a series of messages from Elsa on my old phone number. "Xavier is about to marry me. The wedding will be held at the city's most luxurious five-star hotel." "When he married you, he didn't even bother with a simple ceremony, did he?" "Enjoy watching from heaven as I have the grand wedding you never got." I never expected Elsa to be so obsessed with me—the ex-wife who had supposedly been dead for years. Another message popped up on my phone. It read: "Don't be sad, at least your dead child will keep you company. It got lucky. Otherwise, it would have died at my hands."

It slows right in front of me, and for a second, I think it’s going to stop. Maybe hitchhiking is a better idea than waiting for a cab. I step toward the street—and then it accelerates. The tire sinks into a puddle, and a mix of water and mud explodes straight at me, ruining my immaculate skirt. “Damn idiot! Are you blind or what?” I shout, furious, trying to see the jerk hiding behind the tinted window. The window rolls down slowly. Shamelessly. A long arm appears first. The sleeve of a black suit fits it perfectly, revealing a small but impossible-to-ignore tattoo on his wrist: a Roman numeral five.

Pinky squinted to read it, her eyes tracing the loops and crosses. "Collection of short stories for ladies," the title read. "Stories of desire, of awakening, of the first time." Pinky blinked, her eyes widening as she read on. The handwriting was feminine, secretive, as if the writer were sharing her most guarded thoughts with only the pages. It was a confession. A revelation. As she began to read.

One of the staff turned up the volume, and Amira’s heart skipped at the words spilling from the newscaster’s lips. “Breaking news tonight. Nathan Bridges, heir to the Bridges Corporation, was found abandoned on the roadside, badly beaten and bleeding. He has been taken into hospital care. While he remains alive, sources claim his condition is serious. Authorities suspect foul play.” Amira’s fork clattered against her plate, the sound sharp and jarring. Her eyes flew to Montez, searching for a reaction. But he didn’t even flinch. He set down his knife and fork, folded his napkin with precision, and finally looked at her.

Lionidis left he room to go check on the transportation of the captives in the vans and make sure all the staff were out of the saferoom and accounted for. *** Once Nova had her cup of tea and we were squished into the two-seater sofa, side by side, she was getting sidetracked and rather than discussing the books she was nuzzling into my neck and whispering suggestive comments. “Did the encounter with the books make you horny or something?” I whispered “I don’t know.” She said with a slow, dirty smile. Spreading over her luscious lips. “I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or something but it’s like there is this extra energy under my skin and I want to expend it in a very specific way”

All illegal as hell, but nothing that could help us figure out their plans or locate the rest of them. Taking out one of their buildings was like crashing a car of someone who owns ten more. A small dent in their status and that was it. It was infuriating, really. I looked over at Raphael who had just snapped and produced himself another glass of scotch. This was his 5th glass, and by the way he switched it up to scotch over brandy I knew he was feeling the same as me.

Wiping his hands on his pants, he tried again and was able to dial 911. As he waited for the call to connect, his eyes roamed the library, darting here and there, anywhere but at Harold. He noticed some books had been knocked off a nearby bookcase, a scattering of anthologies. Yet among them, he spotted his own name. A copy of his novel Dead Don’t Dance. It shouldn’t be here, he kept all his author copies in his office out in the carriage house. “This is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?”