Speak The Book Novels & Stories

It came free with a pop that had Sylvain's eyes flashing from his usual honey to his wolf's obsidian. Sparks danced where our flesh connected and his minty breath became my own as he said in a low rumble, "One: Don't do that," he paused, eyebrows scrunching as he openly glared at my lips, "Two: she wants to speak to you. The shadows showed you the book." "Does she know what's in the book?" I asked in a whisper.

Libro Vitae whispered its voice harmonious. "Libro Vitae, please show me where Alastair is hiding," I asked. The book hummed in response. Libro Vitae became warm in my hands. The cover opened, pages flipped continuously until they suddenly stopped. The words on the page jumped off the paper, floating into the air, wrapping themselves around me. In a blink of an eye, I was pulled into the book. Light flooded my vision. Every sound echoed around me. Voices raced past me, speaking in riddles. Some shouting, screaming, others a dull whisper. Libro Vitae's voice became louder as I watched the trees form around me.

Hi!!! Just wanted to pop in and say thank you for taking the time to read my work. This is the final book in my Unspoken Trilogy. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! Book 1 - Unspoken Promises Book 2 - Unspoken Truths Book 3 - Unspoken Desires If you’re starting this novel without reading the previous books - you may get a little lost with all the characters and the fast paced events. ——————————- Chapter 1

Took the book and cleared his throat. And then he read. The words rolled off his tongue smoother than I imagined. Each sentence carried weight, like he was pouring himself into the rhythm of the story. The room, which had moments ago been buzzing with whispers and giggles, was silent now. Even the air seemed to hold still, waiting on his voice. I couldn’t stop watching him. Not the way his lips shaped the words, not the furrow of concentration in his brow, not the strength threaded into the calm of his delivery.

I read aloud. Beginning of what? “Stop confusing me. What are you trying to tell me?” I asked exasperatedly. And maybe I was imagining it, but I thought I heard the book scoff. It was acting sentient, like it had a mind of its own. I took a deep breath, before trying again. “Okay, start from telling me where I am.” I demanded calmly. The book jolted, before flipping its pages. After what seemed like a long while, it finally stopped at a page.

he said. "That's good sir. So, when are you planning to buy one?" I asked. "Hm, I will make a money transfer now if you want. Bank-to-bank and sign all the papers... If and only if... you could give me the service that I wanted." "Huh? I'm not sure what you're talking about sir." I was confused on what he said. "Come on now, Alice. Don't tell me you know nothing?" "I honestly don't know what you're talking about sir."

I could hear the lock click. Suddenly, the room began to brighten. I could see everything. A very deep voice began to talk to me from the book. There was a white material and the voice told me to kneel on the material. It said fold your hands on your chest. These words appeared in the book in front of me.” Initiation time.” The voice came back. It said to hear this question and answer.

A memoir was different from a speech. I had given versions of the story publicly. In rooms of thirty and rooms of twelve hundred and in the livestream that had reached people I would never meet in places I would never go. I had gotten good at the delivery, good at giving the real version without being destroyed by the real version, good at walking back into my life afterward without the story following me in ways that disrupted the life. A book was different.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x How was the chappy? you are welcome to express your thoughts in the comment section and please add this book to your library, happy reading!

she mumbled before diverting her gaze back to her book, “Who would believe such nonsense.” I sighed from her stubbornness before beaming my eyes at the book she’s reading. I narrowed my gaze, scanning it. I can’t actually make a word from the funny calligraphy of the cove--- No wait, it isn’t the calligraphy; it is another LANGUAGE. “He---hey!” I boomed, pointing at it, “You could actually read that, right?”