Novel River Oaks Novels & Stories

Chapter 117: The Rotten Sluice The Oakhaven river did not flow with the clean, icy rush of the high fjords; it wallowed through its stone channel like a dying beast, thick with the gray silt of the lowland flats and the chemical bile of the mountain runoff. Natalia lay flat on her stomach within a thick stand of frozen river reeds, her borrowed imperial cloak pulled over her head to mimic the gray-brown mud of the riverbank. Through the jagged stalks of the grass, her amber eyes were locked onto the western water-gate of the garrison town. Oakhaven loomed less than two hundred paces away across the white water, its triple-layered masonry rising from the riverbed like a row of black teeth. Th

Anahita Waterwolf POV We waterwolves have resettled on the banks of the Dream River that runs through the place once known as the Barren. Though to use the word 'barren' in relation to this magnificent place feels ridiculous. Many mornings I sit on the balcony of the packhouse, before the pack stirs, gazing out at the churning, roiling, foaming waves of the river, its banks densely packed with rich, dark mud. The colours of the river at dawn--blue, mauve, purple, indigo, green--remind me of the lifestone and that night when the poison was driven out. The lifestone disappeared, it's work done. And Silvia's iron--the physical iron anyway--was also gone.

asked Hayden, no longer feigning disinterest. "Of course, it could, but it won’t. Knowledge is a powerful and therefore dangerous thing. The tree will not help to further corrupt the already corrupted. It will not let its knowledge be used to crush kingdoms, outwit foes or garner fame. The Omniscient Oak is fed by the waters of the River of Jaded Wanderers. The river is similar to the Faded Dreams' River but unlike the Forest of Faded Dreams it does not accept all requests. Drinking the Jaded Wanderers' Water does nothing. The tree acts like a judge of sorts, answering few questions but giving much clearer and more detailed answers than the Faded Dreams' Water.

R-18. I rubbed the back of my head as I looked down at the papers on my table. Why is it so hard to be a Secretary?! Why their so many papers on my table!? I sighed and started working, the door flew open when the emotionless bastard was there. He is holding his phone and walking smugly to his table. I pouted and started working, not minding him. "Secretary Olivia, let's fuck." River said bluntly with his smug looks, my brows line together while looking at him confused. Really? In time of work?

“How are your quarters?” “Fine,” Yvayn stopped unpacking and looked up, “especially this view of the river.” His father walked over to the window and looked out. Evidence of the city was now gone. The riverbank was about one hundred cubits away. The shore was lined with tall ancient cypress trees. The cypress knees poked out of the black water serving as stools for the water birds and hiding places for darker creatures. The wake left by the boat scared off several birds that screamed as they flew up into the air. The trees were covered in drooping vines; giant ferns were growing along the shore. The forest was dark and full of shadows. They passed a tall old dead oak tree that was covered co

With that, he turned and disappeared into the trees, leaving River and Thane to navigate the fragile bond forming between them. River guided the wheelchair beneath the sprawling canopy of an ancient almond tree, its gnarled branches stretching towards the sky like nature's own cathedral. The warm sunlight filtering through the leaves cast dappled shadows on the ground, and the sweet scent of blooming almonds wafted through the air. She settled onto one of the tree's massive roots, the rough bark pressing against her skin as she faced Thane. From her bag, River retrieved a worn leather-bound book, its pages yellowed with age. As she opened it, the musty smell of old paper mingled with the alm

With love, Calla Loren River – POV When I held her book in my hands for the first time, something strange happened. I didn’t feel old. I didn’t feel replaced. I felt home. Because her voice didn’t cancel mine—it continued it. And that’s what stories do when they’re loved well. They echo. James – POV “Do you think Rachel would be proud?” I asked River as we walked home that night. River looked up at the stars. “I don’t know,” they said softly. “But I think she’d be quiet.” “Why?” “Because sometimes pride is too big for words.”

The fighters drop their compound bows, scrambling up the muddy ridge to escape the rising, boiling river, while the three elders stumble over their own gold-trimmed robes, rolling into the muck like hogs. I step out of the river, my bare feet landing on the northern bank for the first time. The current behind me drops back into its bed, hissing and steaming against the stones. Voron is on his knees at the edge of the ridge, his silver-streaked cloak drenched in boiling mud, his hands shaking as he looks up at me. Diana is beside him, her head pressed flat against the wet earth, her submission complete and absolute. The leather-bound folder the elder held is floating down the black river, its

It was like I couldn't seem to catch a break today, first the distracting meeting and having to sit through watching River flirt with other men. Then Angelica’s shocking appearance and even more shocking apology. Now River the woman who has plauged my mind, day, noon and night is holding a bouquet of flowers from an admirer. Today couldn't possibly get worse. “Sir you didn't tell where we going?” I heard my driver say.

In my mind, I am running naked through the woods. I am a very good animal. I am a very bad animal. In my mind, we are crashing through the trees, scratched and bleeding from the branches and thorns, daring to be chased, wanting to be caught until we end up here, against this old oak. He is moaning as he pumps me fiercely. Little bits of moss are clinging to my lips and it turns me on. His hands, his hot cock, the river, the sunbeam on my neck, the smell of his skin, it all turns me on. He convulses hard with orgasm, pulsing against me, groaning low and soft like water on spawning gravel. The poor oak shudders and a couple of galls fall to the ground. This makes me want it all over again, of