Shiver Book Novels & Stories

Who did he see die? Who was she? A shiver crawls up my spine. I immediately shut the book, my heartbeat thundering the exact same time the thunder strikes the night sky, cracking like electricity. Like a roar in the night sky. Like God Himself is angry. The door librbary creaks, making me place the book in the drawer with fast reflexes.

A shiver ran down my spine. Retracing my steps, I padded over to the table, which had the item lying on it. It was a book, a really, really old book. Flipping through the pages, I discovered it was a journal, its pages detailing the fall of a great alpha king. My brows scrunched. What the hell is an alpha? However, before I could read further, an unseen force hit me, nearly sweeping me off my feet.

Unaware of the dark creatures plan against his mate, Riven kept the Book of Shadows in a locked room, making sure Layla never set her eyes on it. But the book called to Layla. Her blood was one with it now and at night, she would hear whispers calling to her, keeping her awake. She knew the book held secrets, secrets about the owner, secrets about the past and she knew the whispers she heard every night were trying to tell her something. Something about herself. ... It was a cold night and Layla lay in Riven's embrace, deeply asleep. There was no moon in the sky and it was pitch black. The mansion was silent and the oil lamps gave out a yellowish glow in the dark.

Wait… bonds with an S? As the weight of her presence faded, a single snowflake appeared in front of me. It had a different shape from the one in the temple. But it also had it’s own glow. The snowflake floated towards me and went into my mouth, down to my lungs. I felt the sharp edge of the cold snowflake, and then it dissipated, energizing my body like a cold winter’s embrace. The feeling faded, and suddenly, I was back. The cold night air slammed into me as I coughed violently, choking on water. My body trembled, the pebbly shore pressing against my back.

She kept her tone light, but her gut was doing flips. Christina didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pulled a small object from the folds of her blanket and set it on the table with the kind of care usually reserved for live grenades. It was a book, small and battered, the kind of thing that might get lost in a flea market bargain bin—if you didn’t look too closely at the cover. Leila leaned in. The leather was cracked, the pages yellowed like they’d been left out in the sun for a century too long. Stamped into the cover was a symbol: an eye inside a triangle, surrounded by curling, intricate lines that almost seemed alive.

Everything felt frozen in time, like a snapshot of a life that had never truly belonged to her. But something about being in the room brought a sense of clarity, a feeling that she was on the verge of discovering something important. Elara’s eyes drifted toward the bookshelf, a collection of novels and journals that had once been her only refuge from the cruelty of her fake sister and the indifference of her parents. She stepped closer, her fingers trailing over the spines of the books as she searched for something—anything—that might give her the answers she so desperately needed. She pulled a few books off the shelf, flipping through the pages absentmindedly, but found nothing of interest.

Susan 's POV: Startled by the vivid dream, I'm abruptly jolted awake. The dampness between my legs serves as a tangible reminder of how my body responds to these forbidden fantasies. I can't shake his face from my mind—those captivating eyes, those lips that brought both pleasures and torment to my senses. "This is sheer madness," I whisper in despair, seeking solace in reciting the Lord's prayer. Waking up repeatedly due to these haunting dreams has become exhausting, and I long for a reprieve.

My hands trembled as I opened the folder. Tucked inside was a faded photograph. The church, fifteen years ago. A picture of me and a little girl... but the face wasn't Sophia's. It was Isabella. The words on the back twisted in my gut like a knife: The one who really saved you was never Sophia. The memory hit me like a freight train. The rain, the fear, her small hand in mine. It was Isabella. It was always Isabella. "No... no, it can't be..." I collapsed onto the blood-stained floor.

Fight how you would fight if he was a true enemy. I am a runner, I’m sneaky, and I am a shifter. I stepped up, dipping low, twisting my body on to the ground as I stretched my leg out, swinging it with force. The palms of my hand rest on the soft fabric beneath our feet, but my claws break through, and I can feel the cushion deep within. My leg hits the side of his knee, causing him to buckle, and lose that strong stance he took. He tries to catch himself from falling as I twist my body back up, lifting my knee high, making contact with his chin. His body begins to fly backwards. I grabbed both of his arms, pulling them out, separating them from each other as I pulled him back up towards me,

Shock and devastation coursed every fiber of my being threatening to consume me. The sacrifice I had made for these two suddenly burned in my chest. My hands kept trembling as I squeezed the edge of the doorway, my knuckles turning white under the weight of my emotions. Silently I stepped back, my footstep eerily soundless against the carpeted floor. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me. Not now, I pressed my quivering lips together, suppressing the wrenching sobs that clawed at my throat. No, I would not break in front of them.