Novel & Cerita Rachel Reid: Books

RACHEL Brushed in with a line of violet and ash. River whispered, “It’s the only place she was allowed to rise.” I glanced at them. “No,” I said. “She rose in you.” Melinda’s POV The next morning, River came into the kitchen holding two books. Mine — the memoir. And Rachel’s old poetry journal — the one I’d kept tucked away for years. They placed both on the table. “I think I want to make something.” “Out of those?” “No. Out of what’s missing between them.” I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

I hold her head in my hands, looking for any sign that she understands what I’m saying. “The one with Alpha Reid?” she whispers, her pupils dilating and her breaths becoming shallow. I nod. “That was always my favourite. It was closest to the stories granny Gwynn told me. I tried to find other books like it, but the rest just didn’t measure up. That author only wrote two books and the other is more about witches than werewolves.” She licks her lips, still grinding her pussy in my lap. After how she reacted when she realised what we are, I’m surprised she seems to be taking this in her stride.

Reina replied. “What kind of problem?” Leslie asked with interest. “Well, Rachel was always strange; we didn’t expect her to go that far. It’s not something I enjoy telling a new employee, but the best advice to you is not to dedicate your whole heart to your author and make things too easy.” Reina said as she placed her hand on her hip. “Creating a book isn’t easy but being the support to the book and its master isn’t easy either. This job is not a job for the purely soft-hearted.”

Don't look at me, blame mills and boon. I picked up one book with a superb and sexy looking cover titled; Bound by honour by Cora Reiley. She's one of my favourite writers and I only have a few. She write so well and her smuts are over the moon. I head back to the sitting room and returned to my former position before flipping the book open. Just as I was about flipping to the next page, a loud noise erupted my peace. I sat up quickly and listened for a few seconds, forcing my panick at the back of my mind.

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Or had there been a struggle? Rachel stepped past him, carefully avoiding a collection of discarded shoes and a stack of books with titles like The Tao of Meow and The Heart of Yoga. She crossed to the window and touched the collage of wilting plants on the sill. Shadows bruised her face, deepening her high cheekbones, making her look small and haunted. Not liking the effect, he switched on the light in the breakfast nook. He watched her gaze roam over the room, her eyes narrowed and troubled. It amazed him that the two women were related. They’d lived through the same experiences, suffered the same losses and fears, yet were black and white, as opposite as two people could be. Rachel was th

I walked to one of the bookshelves where I saw names with a Luna heading. My fingers skimmed over the spines of the books placed neatly on the shelves. "Here are ten books from each of the previous Lunas. Their favorite books or any books that were special to them." Riley explained as my eyes darted to a name I was familiar with. Luna Zahra. There were only three books on her shelves. "She didn’t stay long enough to make it up to ten." Riley chuckled, but it was a sarcastic one. "Maybe she can add more…"

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Instead, I asked, “Do you like books, Rachel?” She startled, nearly dropping the one in her hand. “I read sometimes, sir.” “Sometimes,” I repeated, stepping closer. “Sheila read *all* the time. She said stories were the only escape when the world turned cruel.” Her grip on the book tightened. “That’s… that’s beautiful.” I wanted to demand she admit it. That she knew those words because she *was* Sheila. But her silence, her calm refusal to slip, made me feel both enraged and addicted.

“She couldn’t have—” My voice trailed off as I thought about darkness. “Just be careful, Lila.” I looked back up at him and nodded. “I’ll see you later,” I said to him as I turned and left the arena. …. Rachel sat in the back corner of the library at a small table with her history textbook laid out in front of her. She had a notebook to the side of the textbooks with different colored notes sprawled out on the thin paper. She had her fingers dug into her dark hair and I could see that she was incredibly stressed.