Novel & Cerita Silhouette Covers

Saturday, the 7th of May. 12:56pm. Skyline was used to being on the front covers of magazines, newspapers and tabloids, they wanted that and they earned that, but as of recent they had not been on the front covers for business related news, no, rather they had been on the front covers because of the controversy of the heir having returned after years of staying away. This news would not be dying down so easily.

Indeed, my arm still aches, but the tingle that tells me about the iden's desire to be free intensifies, and I bite down on my tongue to keep from crying out. Saelyna looks at the cover closely with a frown. 'There's something…it's written in some kind of invisible ink,' she says. 'What does it say?' She frowns again, then as if on impulse, she opens her palm over the cover, emitting a pale blue light from her fingers.

Nails, bricks, and remnants of construction materials littered the area, adding to the eerie ambiance. With a deep breath, he finally drove the car forward and rolled down the window. He wanted to know who sent him the pictures, and why was the person so desperate to have Clover. "Just leave her here." A rough, husky tone came through from behind a slanted pillar. It sounded like he purposely made it that way. "And you'll get the original copies." The man didn't reveal his face. Only the silhouette of his body could be seen.

Obstacles that could be overcome, but how? Matthias stood still and watched as she continued down the path and noticed that she turned around again, seeking one last glance at him before she disappeared from view. He knew right then and there that he needed to win her over and quickly. He needed a plan to win her over. Immediately! There was no time to waste! Time was of the essence. But how? Pure and simple, manipulation. Manipulation. Reader Notes: Welcome to the world of Das Schatten, aka, the Shadows. The Schatten can turn into shadows and travel through walls and objects, unless they are bound with silver chains.

I released a breath and tugged down my black feathered mask. My mask was an essential part of my night job as DJ Butterfly. I wore it because it not only gave me some form of anonymity, it allowed me to pretend that I was someone else, at least for a while. Behind the turntable and the mask I was Butterfly, confident, sexy, not-at-all-in-debt-with-a-technically-dead-sister-in-the-hospital. As Butterfly I could pretend to love my too-sharp curves and my big mouth that didn't mind spewing whatever I was thinking when provoked.

At 5'10", her presence commanded attention, but she preferred to stay unnoticed. Her dark skin glowed under the morning sun, and her eyes, a striking shade of amber, held secrets untold. She pulled her hood tighter, hoping to shield herself from the prying eyes she could already feel on her. She sighed, remembering the last town, the last school, the last narrow escape. The coven was always a step behind her, their sinister intentions cloaked in shadow but ever-present. She couldn’t afford to grow attached, couldn’t afford to make friends or enemies. But she knew this routine all too well. Blend in, keep your head down, and move on before anyone gets too close.

“Not good that he wants to strangle you. Just… good to know. I wasn’t sure if you were like… best friends or partners or… I don’t know.” Domenico’s lips twitched upward again. “Brothers. For better or worse.” I nodded, feeling braver now that I hadn’t been kicked out or glared at yet. And because my mouth clearly had a death wish, the second question tumbled out before I could stop it. “And… why do you always wear shades? Even inside?” Another beat of silence. Longer this time. Heavy enough to make my stomach twist a little. Domenico’s fingers stilled against the counter.

Perhaps he was doing this out of guilt, or perhaps he wanted to use the baby as a chain to keep me around after I found out about his affair. Hesitation was snuffed out by the thoughts of what I'd done earlier, though. Or what he thought I'd done. He had no idea when those photos were taken. Helen would never do anything that'd disgrace him, or so he thought. Therefore, I became his prime suspect. He wanted to teach me a painful lesson. I came out looking like a ghost thanks to the premature labor. He couldn't even bring himself to look at the corpse of my bruised child. The doctor told him it was a girl.

The twilight deepened, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep blues. The gulls had quieted. The distant sounds of the city were a soft hum. In our little grove, the world shrank to the two of us and the vast, darkening sea. The silence wasn't awkward. It was heavy, thick with everything we couldn't say. But it was a comfortable heaviness. The bond, usually a source of ache or tension, hummed with a quiet, steady contentment. It was like a muscle, painfully clenched for years, finally allowed to relax.

A few minutes later a small motorboat pulled up to the dock and Silas stepped out carrying three large garment bags and a small leather case that looked like it was designed for expensive jewelry. He walked into the boathouse and made a face at the smell of damp wood and boat fuel, but he didn't say anything as he laid the bags out on the table and started showing us the gear he had managed to secure from his contacts in Milan. "The tuxedo has a lining made of a flexible mesh that will block most portable scanners and the cuffs are designed to hold two extra magazines, and for the lady I have a dress that has a hidden compartment in the hem for a ceramic blade and a lipstick that is actually