One Dark Window Book Novels & Stories

I'm going to remove the blindfold now, and don't you dare ever think you could outsmart me, won't allow this to happen. He removed the blindfold from my eyes, it was blurry at first and now it was Ok, the house was big and spacious, it was beautiful and dangling I can't the place to my, it was hard choosing the one that is cooler between him and Damon, but that not the point now I need to escape this hell loop if I don't want anything to happen, cause I can't live if this man ever touches me, the guilt am going to felt is not of this world.

It was quiet, with just a hum from the car's engine, which to me, was deafening against the weight of unspoken words. Ina kept her eyes on the window, the city lights passing by to paint fleeting patterns across her face. Her reflection stared back at her—a woman who had played the part of sweet, subservient Lily for too long. But in the quiet glow of her own defiance, this was something Ina saw a whole lot better: a flicker of liberation.

I said, and Rick nodded as he walked to the center of the room and dropped into a chair. My fingers glide along the books as I read their titles. I pull one out, glance at the first few pages, and then slip it back into its place before continuing. “Hmmm,” I hummed as I squatted to see the books at the bottom. My fingers glide along the books, and my heart stops when I read one of the titles, “How to Reject a Mate and the Consequences that Follow.” Slowly, I pulled the book from its slot and flipped through a few pages.

The night spreads over the cabin like a thick shroud, and the cold seeping in from the forest seems to slip through every crack, as if it wants to remind us that out there the world is hostile, and the warmth we have now is fragile, almost borrowed. I’m at the table, leafing through a book I left open since the afternoon without really reading, when a fleeting flash—something that doesn’t match the slow rhythm of snow and darkness—cuts my breath short. It’s not just any reflection, because the light doesn’t come from inside, but from outside, from a low, distant point, as if someone moved a flashlight or a shard of glass caught the moonlight and threw it straight at my window.

Alex said to himself and proceeded with his looking through work. Inside the cabin the man is as yet remaining before the French window, seeing the rest of the world. Also, drinking red wine is leisurely. He looked at the swaying liquid in the goblet and drowned in his own thoughts. He is Ryan Bond. The most extravagant man in this nation and even included as the top man on the planet. Each lady wants to be his better half since he isn't simply rich yet additionally the most attractive and brilliant man in the entire world. His eyes are profound like the water in the sea. He has the absolute best facial structure. The ideal animal on this planet. Each lady begins to slobber at him when she s

Or maybe someone else did it for him? I washed my thoughts away through sipping on my Negroni. I close my eyes as the chisel goes down my throat. When I opened my eyes, Rustov's dark eyes met mine. He was no longer looking at the drink, but at me personally. I swallowed hard and was about to look away when I noticed something. I looked past Rustov, I could see him outside. The wall was made of transparent glass, I clearly saw the man beside a black car who just kissed the girl with him!

And my window was my stage, a private peepshow for an audience of one, or so I thought. Tonight was no different. A storm was rolling in, the sky outside bruised purple and black. The wind rattled the windowpanes, and the first fat drops of rain began to splatter against the glass. I was in my bed, the covers kicked off, wearing only a pair of loose boxers. My laptop was open, but the screen was dark, my attention entirely focused on the house next door. A light was on in what I knew was his study, a warm, golden square in the gathering darkness. I could see a silhouette moving behind the blinds, a tall, powerful frame that made my breath catch.

Chapter Thirty: I Don’t Know How To Be Soft Without You POV: Elias Voss The office was dark. Not dimly lit. Not shadowed. *Dark.* Elias had killed every light source—the recessed overhead panels, the brass desk lamp, even the subtle LED strips lining the bookshelves. Only the indifferent glow of the city remained, bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Skyscrapers stood like sentinels, their windows glittering like scattered diamonds against the bruised twilight. The horizon still smoldered, a fading stripe of tangerine and rust where the sun had surrendered.

Chapter 1 Dawn Ellery's point of view The neon sign outside my window flickers with the persistence of a dying star, painting my skin in sickly green pulses that match the throbbing in my temples. Room 13 — because the universe isn't subtle with its omens. I press my fingertips against the lipstick-marked mirror, feeling the static electricity spark between glass and skin. Three days in Vegas, and all I have to show for it is this cigarette-stained coffin of a motel room and the terrifying knowledge that something inside me is very, very wrong.

Chapter — The First Move The mansion was dark the way it always was. No lights. No candles. Just the particular quality of blackness that existed in spaces that had decided light was optional and had been living without it long enough to stop noticing the absence. Aurora stood at the window.