Novel 729 Novels & Stories

I had sent him good morning and good night messages every day, and he never once replied. And now, he was messaging me on my engagement day. And it was about how he would give me the fortune stick he had always withheld from me, the one I could never earn. Caleb saw the message too. A mischievous, amused look appeared in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow. "So... is the engagement still happening?" I followed his gaze and saw Hayden standing outside. His expression was unreadable, and he gripped the beads in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white.

"Eli! I curse you to die a wretched death, with no body left to bury!" So his curse really did come true. I shut my eyes, too drained to feel anything but a hollow calm. And then, something wrenched me upward. The world blurred past, wind screaming in my ears. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the place I both knew and dreaded: home. It was December 29th. The manor was strung with gold tinsel and paper snowflakes—every corner bright with seasonal cheer. But I felt no warmth. The festive colors only burned my eyes, sharp and unsettling.

'It is a piece of furniture. 'Yijun.' 'Yes.' 'Thank you for ordering the table.' 'You are welcome,' he said, and went back to the library, and she stood in the middle of the study with her cold tea and laughed quietly to herself, and the spring came through the open window warm and early, and the mountain did its mountain things outside, completely indifferent, and everything was exactly as it should be. ✦ ✦ ✦

Every prole was a danger until it had breathed its last breath. Reese felt for his pants pocket only to find there were no cigarettes in there. Good thing, smoking was forbidden in the bedroom. He could do it in the kitchen or in the living room, but I didn't want the smoke in here. "It is very unlikely that you will get anything other than roast rabbit and beef chops in Historia." Accidents could happen in Historia too, but that was not an issue here. "They should be fed poison." "Unfortunately, that won't be on your menu." Reese got up from the bed, came over to me and gave me a kiss on the head. “I call Jilin and tell her that we will accompany the transport. You can make food in that tim

Plain and simple, he couldn’t imagine being without her. He studied the dagger as it lay in his palm. Very expensive. So where did Isabelle get it? She never told him. On closer inspection, he turned it over and looked at it from a different angle. The handle was wider than most he’d owned. Very peculiar…especially, the tip of the handle that looked as if a piece of paper was stuck in it somehow. He pinched the edge and pulled, and the paper kept coming. Soon a small script appeared with strange coding upon it. His heartbeat hammered as excitement shot through him. Could this be what he’d been after all this time?

Flavius wades through the crowd of dragons until he comes upon a SpitFire much smaller than the rest. Her scales are a brilliant lilac compared to the deep violet of the other SpitFires. She slowly approaches Flavius sniffing his outstretched hand. Flavius uncurls his fingers, reaching for her head. In one swift movement, her jaws snap down on Flavius's hand. He lets out a yelp of surprise but does not try to pull his hand away. Blood drips from the mouth of the small SpitFire. She makes no move to rip Flavius's arm off, which is a good sign.

Clutching her phone, she felt a wave of numbness wash over her. Behind her, the door chimed, and footsteps grew louder as they neared. Suddenly, her phone was plucked from her grasp by the man behind her and tossed aside with an indifferent flick of his wrist. He gripped her wrist tightly, pinning her against the window. She looked down, his warm breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine. "Been waiting long, my dear?" he murmured.

Mia's POV I lock up the door of this old, abandoned house. Running for days because of the zombie outbreak. I find a room with bars on the windows. It looks safe, but then I hear a noise. Zeke stumbles in from the closet. He was bitten last week. His skin is gray and peeling; pus leaks from sores on his arms. He smells of rotten meat and shit. His eyes are milky white. He groans low. I retreat backward, holding my heart because it's pounding. I grab my knife but he's quick.

Elena stood on the balcony of her new penthouse, watching San Francisco wake beneath marine layer fog. Two years since that desperate bus ride from Montana, and the scared omega who'd fled with nothing had transformed into something unrecognizable. The morning news droned behind her, covering the mysterious hack that had donated fifty million to supernatural refugee camps worldwide. "The ghost strikes again," reporters speculated about PhantomByte's latest redistribution of wealth. They had no idea she was listening from a apartment that cost more than most people earned in lifetimes.

How could I sleep with my two eyes closed, knowing that Angela might be plotting my desk just to take over my empire? I tried watching a movie on my phone, but it wasn't helping. I got bored in the end. However, the slumber I wished for never came. Rather, my eyes widened like I was some sort of security at a company. In the process of trying to figure out a perfect solution, my eyes caught a glimpse of a bottle of liquor beside the bed. I smiled. “Now that's what I'm talking about,” But the moment I remembered the doctor's warning against the intake of liquor, sadness strolled back to my face again.