Shaken Book Novels & Stories

Some wounds take longer to find than they do to feel. But I never stopped checking my phone for his name. My apartment was small, quiet, and cluttered with secondhand furniture. A chipped table. A bookshelf that leaned slightly to the left. A couch too soft for its own good. It was nothing like the sleek city life I’d once dreamed of. And it was perfect. I got a job at a little bookstore down the street. The kind of place that still used paper receipts and smelled like old wood and dust jackets. It was owned by a woman named Lila—tough as nails and twice as sharp.

A PAWN & A KING ~ALICE’S POV~ I was still standing there, staring at the door Noah had just walked through, trying to piece my sanity back together. But that was the thing about sanity. Once it cracks, it doesn’t take much to shatter. A low groan cut through the silence. I turned slowly, my stomach flipping as I saw Edward stir on the floor. Another groan, and he rolled onto his side, wincing as he dragged himself up onto his elbows.

“As you wish, no special treatment tonight.” Issac laughed enunciating “special”. I didn’t like the way he was looking at her but Reagan ignored him. She gripped my hand hard under the table where no one else could see. I could feel her shaking slightly. Yet the rest of her seemed very composed.

I placed my food on my lap and pulled my current read from the shelf behind me. There was something about cracking the book open to the bookmark that made all of my thoughts disperse. For three beautiful hours, my mind focused on the words on the page and the world they painted. I flipped the page as the library door creaked open. I lifted my head and watched as Shane came walking into the room. He scanned the library until his eyes came to a stop where I sat. The corner of his lip curled and he ran his hand through his hair as he made his way toward me. I turned back to my book and ignored him. I didn’t look up at him when I saw his shoes come to a stop in front of me. He kneeled down and o

And that's exactly why I didn't touch him. He was trembling. God, this was too easy. I tilted my head, letting my fingertips trail even lower, just above his belt. The way his stomach tensed beneath my touch sent a thrill through me. His breathing hitched—short, ragged gasps as he clenched his fists like he was trying to hold onto the last shreds of his sanity. "Relax, Jack," I murmured, dragging my nails lightly over the fabric of his shirt. "You look like you're about to explode."

It was Damian Knight’s voice when he said, “You belong to me.” Because a part of her believed him. And a darker part didn’t want to argue. She stood restlessly and wandered the room. Her fingers trailed along the bookshelves. Most were hardbound. Thick, glossy, untouched. Titles like Power & Play, Behavioral Strategy, and Psychology of Loyalty. One book was crooked. She tilted her head. It was the only one not aligned with the rest. She reached out. Pulled it. Nothing happened. No secret door. No dramatic reveal.

This time, he came to destroy. --- It started with a headline. Killian had just stepped into the entrance of the shelter when he heard the buzz — biting whispers, horrified gasps. Janine rushed to him, phone outstretched, her face pale. "You need to see this," she whispered, shaking. Killian took the phone. The article stared back at him, the bold letters screaming: **"Blackwood's Dirty Secrets: From Criminal Empire to Philanthropist Fraud"** He read the words once. Then again. And again.

Just touched it like he already owned it. Maybe he did. "Thank you," I managed, clasping my hands together to keep them from shaking. "Though I imagine you didn't come here to discuss interior decorating." That smile widened. It was the kind of smile that made my stomach turn over, not from attraction but from warning. Like seeing a shark fin break the surface of calm water. "Perceptive. I like that." He moved away from the bookshelf and closer to where I stood by the fireplace. Three steps. That's all it took for him to invade my space without actually touching me. "I'll be direct, Isabelle. May I call you Isabelle?"

However, it was too late now. Nicholas kept inching closer and closer to me. Then, he stomped on my right hand and kept stomping on it with all his might. The pain was so great that I couldn't even make a sound anymore. Tears flooded my eyes at once. Nicholas' figure turned blurry in my vision. Now, he looked even more like a monster to me. I tried to pull my hand back, but it was to no avail. I felt terror spreading through my chest. My hand!

She leaned against the trunk of a massive oak, her eyes glazed as she watched dust motes dance in the light. "We are not alone." Sloane drew his dagger. The shadows between the trees shifted. From the woods ahead, Balthazar stepped into the clearing. Vane and Kael flanked him. "Seeing you so helpless is good to see." Balthazar's jaundiced eyes scanned the tattered remains of Sloane's shirt greasy stains, charcoal, dried blood. "To think I was replaced by a dog who looks lost searching for a bone." Sloane did not move. He held up his right wrist. The golden Shackle glowed with an angry, rhythmic amber light.