Romans & histoires Read Free Online Zane Books

I slipped into a soft white robe that barely reached my thighs and left my hair loose and damp around my shoulders. Then I opened the connecting door between our rooms. Zade’s room was dimly lit, just one lamp on beside the bed. He was lying back against the pillows, shirtless, reading a book. The sheets were pulled low on his hips, and the sight of his bare chest and the strong lines of his stomach made my mouth go dry. He looked up when he heard the door, and his face broke into a slow, easy smile that reached his eyes. “Hey, baby,” he said, setting the book aside on the nightstand.

There was a brief pause as Zane listened to his father's breathing, then he replied, “Yes, I am leaving to go get the orders as you have requested.” The call abruptly ended in Zane's ear, and he smirked, mumbling, “You are not getting rid of me that easily.” The walk from NewEra to the nearest coffee shop left Zane feeling even more tired, but somehow he managed to reach his destination without collapsing and walked toward the counter, and said, “Excuse me.” “How may we help you today sir?” The lady behind the register asked politely.

In the past, Zane had been blind—she had memorized his features but never experienced him seeing her. Today, their eyes had met. But she reminded herself—it had been nothing. Just a cold, blank stare for a stranger. Because in reality, he couldn’t have recognized her. Zane didn’t know what Jay looked like. — “I want the information on that mother and child within thirty minutes,” Zane instructed Ryan as soon as the elevator doors closed. Ryan was surprised at the sudden command. When he looked at his boss, he was taken aback by the rare flicker of emotion on his face.

A silent rebellion against the unspoken rules of our home. Sometimes, after school, if Zane was distracted, Zye would linger near the main gate. Morison, bless his heart, would find an excuse to be busy nearby. Zye would talk, her voice soft, about her day, about her dreams of far-off places. I’d listen, offering quiet observations. Those moments, few and far between, were oxygen. They reminded me that not everyone in the world, not even in that house, saw me as an infection of poverty.

Terrence took the books from Zane before he could stop him, annoyed as he looked at the titles. “All of these are relationship books,” Terrence said slowly, raising his eyebrow as he looked at the big one about how to romance a woman. “Yeah? So what?” Zane snapped and took the books back angrily. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Blake said, sounding a bit hurt. “I’m not,” Zane admitted. “Then why the books?” Marcus asked curiously. Zane wasn’t going to let his brothers make him feel foolish for buying self-help books. At least he knew he needed help. Terrence had been lucky to get a wife like Christine, and Blake and Marcus were too busy with work to care about anything except hookin

𝑺𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒂𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒖𝒈 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒌 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒉𝒂𝒊𝒓. Zane 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒐𝒃𝒔 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒄𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 �

If that were to happen, he would have no one but himself to blame, but it would be pretty amusing. That was Zane’s one character flaw. He was too nice and didn’t think much of the feelings of others. It was a good trait to have, but it was also a double-sided sword. Where it made one feel good, it hurt another. And it looked like I wasn’t the only one thinking this, as when I look at where Nol stands, I see a look of anger on his face. Smirking, I hug Zane’s shirt closer to myself as we stop in front of a car.

I started feeling feverish and lightheaded and just like that, I wasn’t hungry anymore. I needed air. I stepped outside, hoodie up, sleeves shoved halfway up my arms, letting the wind hit me like a slap. Crisp morning air. Sharp, clean, and instantly stabilizing me. Zane was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, face toward the woods like he was trying to keep himself from looking at me. His posture was all Alpha—tense, controlled, dangerous. I cleared my throat. “You wanted to see me?” He turned at the sound of my voice, eyes flicking toward me, and I swear, for half a second, they darkened. He immediately stepped into my space and sniffed me.

His scent—smoke and winter—filled the air, choking space that was already too small. “You look calm,” he said. “Almost hopeful.” My heart stuttered. Hope was something he hunted for sport. He circled me slowly, like a wolf deciding which part to tear first. “I thought you should see something,” Zane said, pulling a folded sheet of paper from his coat. He waved it lightly. “News travels fast when truth is hungry.” He placed the paper on the bed beside me. Not close enough to grab. Close enough to hurt. I didn’t move.

What could I offer him, a human female who could only bring sorrow to his house? Afterward, Zane and I made love for the morning, which was everything except perfunctory, and thus we were running late, I tried to describe my dream, but Zane, who was so distracted I knew he wasn’t really listening, and he told me to consult the local Luna. Then he kissed me again, and I felt the heat of his body against mine. All right, I thought at the time, once but no more. “I often have hunting dreams,” Zane said while we were sipping our coffee after the girls had gone to the playroom with Dr. Hayes. The PPE was over, but they had first level in few weeks.