Shackled Book Novelas e Histórias

Not from Jason himself. My hand shot out, and I shoved, venting my frustration on the shelves in front of me. A glass slipped from its position, shattering instantly. Not only that, but vial bottles were scattered across the floor. A book fell from the highest shelf. Thick? Leather-bound and dusty as hell. Its lock broke, and it hit the ground. I wanted to ignore it until a drawing caught my eye. I stared at it. It was a forbidden book. I remembered being told not to open it unless it was necessary.

Daniel Hart was a chapter closed with no intention of being reread. And then, on a crisp Saturday morning in early October, I met him. The bookstore was nearly empty—one of those independent shops with mismatched chairs, shelves that reached too high, and the scent of cedar and old paper in the air. I went there often, drawn to its quiet corners and anonymity. I was in the psychology aisle, flipping through a worn copy of The Body Keeps the Score, when I heard a voice behind me. “That one saved my life. Or at least explained why I couldn’t sleep for three years.”

Boom. Jack was ripped away from the wall so violently that he stumbled, crashing into the nearby table. Bottles shattered, crates tumbled, and the entire room seemed to shake with the impact. Before I could even blink, a strong, unrelenting grip closed around my wrist, yanking me back with a force that sent my pulse skyrocketing. Liam. His presence was suffocating. Dominating. His fingers were wrapped around my wrist like a steel cuff, his expression carved from ice. Jack groaned from the floor, trying to push himself up. "Liam—what the hell—"

The two seconds it took for Bennett to complete his shift stretched on for what felt like an eternity, I could hear his bones cracking and could see them distorting over his skin at awkward angles. Midnight black fur erupting over his tan skin as if it were burning it away. He was beautiful. I was ashamed to admit that I was a little awe struck being this close to his wolf, to any wolf really. Those who hadn’t yet completed their first shift were kept away from the wolves as we couldn’t communicate yet through the pack link, and wolves were very volatile once provoked, but I couldn’t stop myself, I reached for him. His fur was jet black but in the dim lights of the apartment, it almost looke

he said. Paoli gave him a pained smile. "I do know that, and I appreciate it. But my concern isn't for me," he said. He took a deep breath and seemed to reach a decision at last. "As you know, I've been reading on werewolves tonight. I think I've come across something that might explain what's happening between you and Emily," he said. He turned and retrieved a heavy tome from the counter behind him, then walked over and sat it in front of William. It was a beautiful book with a hand-woven navy-blue front cover. It was decorated with ancient magic symbols, long forgotten by all but a select few. Paoli opened the book with one hand and pointed out the section.

Rebecca froze where she was, hoping no one saw her walk in with the guy who had just alarmed everyone. After everyone settled again, she looked up at the crowed. Finally, Hunter thought. “Shackles.” Rebecca began. “Shackles and chains holding me down. They are tight and burn around my wrists. Oh God, they burn so much. I know where the keys are, but I can't reach them. These chains are short and prevent me from moving immoderately. Don't pity me, no. I'm used to the rough grinding sound they make when I tilt, I'm used to carrying their load on my wrists.”

Carefully, almost reverently, she takes my limp hand from where it rests against my thigh and gently guides me to my feet. The heavy ropes from the night before are gone, leaving me free to move my limbs without restriction. I can physically walk around now. Technically, the lack of bindings means I have the physical freedom to attempt an escape, but Archie is anything but foolish. He may have ordered the ropes removed from my wrists, but the heavily armed guards stationed right outside my door haven't moved an inch.

Bitsy sat in the corner of the dull cabin and pulled up her gasp leg. She looked at the press shackle around her lower leg with dislike. They’d been keen sufficient to evacuate her boots and socks some time recently they’d shackled her so she couldn’t slip out of it, but that hadn’t halted her from attempting to tear it off, and presently she was shackled and dying. At slightest Keegan had given them their claim cell to remain in. These folks were amateurs.

I stretch, reaching my hands above my head and rotating my neck, hearing the ever so familiar crack as it releases the tension look down and see the familiar shine of silver around my wrists, and I sigh. It's been six years since that day, and only mere weeks after the incident, these shackles were put on as punishment. I'm bound with silver, which has over time, locked away my wolf side - including the consciousness of my wolf, Seles. It's been ages since I could hear her in my mind, and I've missed the company of her every single second. We worked so hard to be what we were, and now we've been reduced to nothing because I failed to protect the Alpha and Luna.

There was another round of laughter and I tried to open my eyes all the way but the lids wouldn't move past the swelling around them. The musky scent of the damp cellar walls made me want to throw up,but when I gagged, nothing came out. “We should untie her and take turns….” The second voice suggested,excitedly. “Perhaps that'd take her out completely,” another said and although I couldn't fully process what they meant at that point,my mind wept. One of them roughly fondled my chest and the silver chains on my chained up wrists— sizzled deeper into my already burnt flesh as I tried to pull back.