Starved Book Novels & Stories

Looking at the funny look of the little guy, Eliza's unhappiness caused by Lucija disappeared instantly. She squatted down, picked up Demarion, and went downstairs. "You usually eat so much, you won't die of hunger so easily." Demarion flattened his lips and looked at Eliza with a face full of bitterness. "So mommy, you really want to starve me to death." "According to the functions of the human body, it is actually difficult for you to starve to death." At the dining table, Braint looked at the book of human anatomy in his hand and said lightly, "If you want to starve to death, you have to get rid of the fats on your body first."

What do they want from me? At some point, exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted into a restless sleep. When I woke, a piece of stale bread lay at my feet. My hands were free, though my legs remained bound. Desperation overrode caution—I grabbed the bread and devoured it, ignoring the dirt clinging to it. I didn’t care if it was poisoned. I was starving. Just as I swallowed the first bite, a voice pierced the silence—a cold, screeching voice that made my blood run cold.

“I just—this book is good.” The housekeeper nodded politely. “Of course, my lady.” I looked back at the book then sighed. The truth was embarrassing. Even before all this… I didn’t put books down for food. Not ever. Not even when I was starving and definitely not for some man’s dramatic dinner expectations. But still… Three hours. I exhaled slowly. “Fine,” I muttered. I found the bookmark wedged between pages, slid it in carefully, then closed the book with a soft thud like I was ending a conversation I didn’t want to leave.

A bit cramped but clean and good enough for me. I put down the book and looked through the window, gazing at the starry sky above. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw a beggar coming my way. His worn out clothes and dirty skin beg for mercy. He came to the carriage and said, “Miss, I’m starving. Can you give me something to eat, please?” he begged. His hands were shaking. I nodded my head. “Wait a minute. I’ll give you some bread.” I was about to turn around to get the bread, but the beggar grabbed my head in a vise-like grip and pressed a piece of cloth on my nose and after exhaling the awful smell, I passed out.

"The place where the first 'Vat' was built. Before the government, before the wolves. The place where the 'First Author' died." "The First Author?" "Alice, you were the 'First Subject,'" Rowan said, stopping to look at me. His bronze eyes softened for a moment. "But someone had to 'Write' you. Someone had to dream of a girl with golden ink. And that person is still 'Online.'" --- ### The Hunger of the Wastes The journey took weeks. We moved through the ruins of cities that had no names. We were hunted by "Feral Packs"—shifters who had lost their minds to the hunger. But every time a wolf lunged at us, Rowan simply looked at it.

I wiped a streak of dried blood from my scraped knee, pulled my legs close, and closed my eyes. “So what do you suggest I do?” *** The night finally settled over the estate. I lay curled up on the thin, damp mat, squirming in pain. I hadn't eaten anything since morning, and the starvation was beginning to take a brutal toll on my weak human body. My stomach had been growling violently for hours, leaving me helplessly chewing on the edge of my torn dress just to distract my mind from the gnawing empty agony inside me. The only thing I could rely on was the sound of water dripping from the small, rusted pipe in the corner of the cell. I could still drink that, but what was I going to eat?

Hunger tightened so much that I thanked her, even with the bitter taste of desperation in my mouth. Madame Baker ordered me to eat everything and share with Caroline, emphasizing that she didn't tolerate waste and that I should be grateful for having something to eat, as many people were starving. When she retired to her room, leaving me in the darkness of the living room, I wondered how someone so rich could be so stingy and cruel.

Thank goodness, she’d been starving. She took the book with her to the massive, wooden desk and sat on the biggest chair she’d ever seen, which sat across from an even bigger one. She felt like Goldilocks, except she was dark as chocolate and her hair was definitely not golden. The food didn’t look familiar, but her stomach growled and her mouth watered. She knew she was hungry. She might get sick later, but she needed food now. There was a note next to the food. *Enjoy. -G.*

FORBIDDEN CRAVINGS Story 1: His Little Secret (Lila’s POV) I woke up with my body still humming from last night. My pussy felt sore and sticky — Ethan’s cum had dried on my thighs, but I could still feel the ghost of his thick cock stretching me while Alex listened from his room. My cheeks burned as I remembered moaning louder on purpose. I had wanted my brother to hear me. I slipped on a tiny white tank top and pink cotton shorts with nothing underneath. My nipples were already hard against the thin fabric. When I walked into the kitchen, Alex was already there.

Somewhere in the city—several stories above, in a steel and glass building—Julian Blackwood lay in his dark, sleek bedroom, staring at the book she had given him. He'd never intended to keep it. When Lena Carter had offered it to him—those gentle words, that thoughtful crease between her eyebrows—he'd intended to refuse. But something in her eyes had taken away his intention. It was neither flirting nor pretense. It was genuine. Silent. Generous. He hated kindness. It broke things open. Julian gazed down at the book. The cover was unadorned, the title in gold print: *A Man Called Ove*. He remembered Lena's words: