Rowan Booktok Novels & Stories

I let my head fall back against the wall behind me and groaned to myself softly. That's when I heard a snap, and I about jumped out of my damn shoes that I wasn't even wearing. I gasped and cupped my mouth immediately before turning to see Rowen standing by the windowsill with a pencil in his hand. The moonlight was just enough to illuminate him in a pair of rose gold shorts and no shirt. His hair was messy, signaling that he was previously asleep. His eyes were still a shade of red, with a glint of rose gold sparkling in the moonlight.

⸻ The forest had grown completely dark. The fire cast long shadows between the ancient pines. Rowan added another branch. “You should probably go.” The Direwolf remained exactly where it was. She looked toward the darkness. “I’ll be okay.” Nothing. “You don’t have to stay.” Still nothing. She smiled. “Suit yourself.” Curling her jacket beneath her head, Rowan settled against the rock overhang. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her body. The day’s events replayed endlessly through her mind. The storm.

My dick twitched in response. “She's an outsider.” Rowan gave me a wry smile, waiting for his cup to fill. “Nothing to do with our world.” I shot him a look. “I can read, you know?” “Just saying.” He shrugged. “Doubt she'll live long if you drag her into this.” I turned another page and breathed out a chuckle. “She'll live.” Rowan scratched his chin. “She's not a Mafia Princess. She may not have a clue—”

he said softly, “you ended up here because you were meant to.” How did he always manage things to make things sound so perfectly simple? I shoved away from him and grabbed the book, slamming it open on the table. “This is what matters. This stupid book is the only thing in this word I know that gives some kind of answer at least. No one else knows shit about it." Suddenly Rowan looked away from me to sniff the air, instantly becoming alert and pulling me one step behind him as a dark shadow spilt across the floor. Give it up everybody! The woman of the hour! There she was, the most unhelpful librarian in the history of librarians. Of course she would choose now, of all times to walk in.

Mason started walking toward home. “Especially the goat.” Gerald trotted after him. Cricket jumped onto Gerald’s back. Rowan threw his hands up. “Why does she keep doing that?” Mason didn’t turn around. “Mounted cavalry.” “That is not a thing.” “It is now.” Martha passed Rowan. “It is.” Rowan looked toward Seraphine. “Help me.” She walked past him. “No.” Rowan sighed. “Book Two is going to be terrible for me.”

Klark, ‘Tribid Greed’ by Steve Reynolds, and a lot of other books. One by one Trisha returned all the books she'd picked. When she was beginning to get tired and unmotivated, the corner of her eyes perceived a strange book on a shelf not too far from where she was. Its spines were tattered and appeared like spiky wires beneath the poor lighting.

Her cathedral. She slouched into her best corner chair—stuffed, tufted velvet in tired blue—pullding out a book from her tote. A quiet night's reading before bed was now her ritual, and for tonight, she opened what was familiar and comforting: *The Light Between Oceans*. The book always bore its imprint on her. Loss. Forgiveness. Breaking and binding decisions. She opened to the top of it, and the world disintegrated. Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him.

But I did not bother to move away from him as I wrapped my own hands around my chest, glaring at Cain and Lucas. “Always so cold to your Alpha,” Rowan sighs softly, shoving his hands into his pocket with a bored yet calm expression as he joins me in staring at the people before us. “You asked me what I wanted, right?” He nodded, showing me he was listening. “I want you to go to jail and rot there, can you do that?” A loud gasps and murmur hits the roof. Rowan regarded me with an unreadable expression, he was not surprised at my words but found them entertaining as he laughed, not a loud angry laugh, but a genuine heartfelt laughter.

One. It was a Thursday, which meant the bar was half-full of exhausted office workers and people who hadn’t figured out their lives yet. Rowan sat at the far end of the counter in a corner stool—back to the wall, sightline to the door. Habit. Her hair was down, black waves brushing her shoulders, and the tattoos that usually stayed hidden under a uniform sleeve were on full display now—ink climbing over her forearms and peeking at the edge of her collar. She liked this version of herself. The one who belonged only to her.

But something louder—something hot and tired and done with being kept in the dark—pushed her forward. She pulled the drawer open. A small book lay inside. Black leather. No title. No clasp. Just a faint shimmer around the edges, like the magic was trying to hide it. Rowan touched the cover. The shimmer broke instantly. She opened it. Her breath caught. The pages were filled with Nyra’s handwriting. Neat. Sharp. Familiar. But the words— Rowan blinked hard, her stomach dropping. There were names. Her name. “Kai” more times than she could count.