Novel & Cerita Roman And Sharon Ebook

she said. “For the last time, my name isn’t purple hair. Call me Subaru, okay? It's really annoying when people call me that.” Mika began to tap her pockets as if searching for something and came up with a long, handmade necklace. Handing it to me, she said, “Big Bro Subaru, please keep this necklace. It’s a good luck charm. You will not get hurt.”

Roman’s presence always did that: dragged old instincts to the surface like blood rising in water. Roman leaned one hip against the counter. Arms crossed. Sleeves of his black button-down still rolled to the elbows, exposing the ink that mirrored Damien’s own down to the last jagged claw on the bear’s paw, the same Cyrillic script curling along the inside of his forearm. So identical that Damien sometimes felt his past was inescapable. “So,” Roman said. Voice low. Calm. The kind of calm that made people check their exits. “The email.” Damien exhaled sharply through his nose, trying and failing to remain calm.

A crow’s feather at each cardinal point burned with a smokeless flame. Patricia stepped forward first. Voice smooth, deliberate. “Korrvak nesh taloum… grahnak velmuirch. Os’hallonn. Drevuuk.” The runes lit up. The shadows leaned in. Gloria’s voice followed, lower, harsher, almost reverent. Elara closed the ritual. When the final word was spoken, the air in the chamber bent—like something massive had opened its eyes. The shadows rippled. And then a voice whispered—not aloud, not in the air, but in their minds.

Truly? Mine wasn’t. I loved Roman. He made it very easy to fall for him... He just never fell for you in return. Sharron... She didn’t like Roman like that, she was g*y and from my belief, until she started working at the company, she didn’t know Alex either.

Robert demands “No.” I retort, closing the book. “Why? You don’t know these people anyway.” Robert says, almost mockingly. Before I can argue back, the notebook is pulled out of my hands. I turn to see Roman standing tall next to me peering through the pages, his eyes widen at the names before him. “Why does Bess have this?” I ask. “Well,” Roman starts with a shake of a head, “Us Hurricane Pack members have our connections.” He brings the book closer to his eyes, “Apparently more connections than even I knew.” Roman says more under his breath.

“Oh. Oh no. You really have not had sex, have you?” “I already told you no!” I protested. “We have not,” Andre said curtly. “I see.” Roman sloshed his drink around in the glass. “Well then. Shall we return to discussing A Court of Thorns and Roses? I have opinions on the book’s views on feminism.” “Why would you think we had sex?” I asked. “Because of the wording of the contract,” Roman replied simply. “Joemar told me you discovered the loophole. And, to be quite frank, you and Andre have appeared quite fond of one-another since I returned today.”

It rang four times. "This is Marcus Webb," said a voice on the other end. Not my Marcus a different one. A forensic document analyst I had used during a contested merger in 2019. The best in the Southeast. "Marcus," I said. "It's Ethan Blackwood. I need you." A pause. "What kind of trouble are you in?" "The kind that was designed to look exactly like my own fault," I said. Another pause, shorter. "I'll be there this afternoon."

Caught off guard , Mirabel hissed and grabbed a fistful of Sharon’s hair , yanking it hard. Sharon grimaced in pain , but landed a solid kick to Mirabel’s shin, making her stumble. “You think you can walk into my mate’s home and insult me??” Sharon shouted. Mirabel smirked, wiping the blood from her lip. “Mate? How long do you think that’ll last when he sees what a liability you are??” A growl ripped from Sharon as she tackled Mirabel to the floor. They rolled , scratching, hitting, and shouting too enraged to care about the destruction they caused.

Serena approached her bookshelf, her fingers trailing across the spines. She stopped at a worn journal she'd hidden there as a child-her mother's. Pages were filled with vague warnings, hidden meanings, and broken phrases. Pieces she'd never understood until now. She opened it and began flipping through pages. There. A sentence underlined three times: The boy in the shadows will become the fire. She looked up at Damien. "She knew. My mother... she warned me." Damien appeared as if he might break. "Serena, I never wanted to hurt you. I just wanted to protect you from what I was becoming."

Her eyes fly open, but she sees nothing, pupils blown wide with shock. The bond explodes between us like a star being born. I drop to my knees, unprepared for the sensory onslaught. Across from me, Rain does the same, a strangled sound escaping his throat. Dawn's consciousness floods into mine—fragments of her fear as she faced Sorin, her wonder at Rain's dragon form, her confusion and pain as the shadow magic drained her light. Beneath those immediate sensations run deeper currents—her determination, her loneliness, her hunger for belonging.