Steal In Writing Novels & Stories

How hadn’t anyone noticed before? The knowledge about stealers was limited. They were a pack taboo, and in olden times once a stealer was found she was immediately exiled. They were a bad omen for any pack, a threat to the unity within. It was all because of the Stealer’s scent that could mimic that of a lost mate of a widowed wolf, or an unmated one who was yet to find his mate, thus making herself enticing to them. Stealers in legends and stories had always used this power to their advantage, turning pack member against pack member, leading them to massacre each other. They were told to be unable to speak the truth, unable to do anything other than entice and manipulate. When I was younger

Third-person POV Graham's grip on the bill tightened when he heard Leanna's words. He didn't say anything and just continued staring at her. Leanna was still grinning happily at him. She patted his arm and said, "Your sister's all grown-up now. She's going to elope with someone else. Aren't you going to say something?" He found himself responding with, "Yeah. That's good." His gaze slid past Leanne, landing on Gwyneth instead.

I wasn't just uninterested in Cohen. I was going to go back and report him to Ruben so he could properly punish this idiot. I didn't want to waste another second dealing with this toxic pair, so I turned to leave. However, Kate suddenly reached out and snatched the bag I had just bought. "Bitch, you can leave, but the bag stays!" Oh, so she was just going to rob me in broad daylight? I grabbed her arm hard. She let out a sharp scream, and her grip loosened. The bag slipped back into my hand.

“That’s why the council buried it. Because it’s a suicide pact for anyone dumb enough to try.” Cassie reaches for the book with measured care, turning the pages as if they might combust. “No one ever said the old ways were kind, Lyla. Just that they worked.” She taps a passage written in a different hand—sharper, almost angry. “‘Should the fated succeed, they shall be as one. Should they fail, they are doomed to roam as beasts, unclaimed by moon or pack for all time.’”

My modus operandi wasn't a master plan, I was just desperate for money and willing to do anything I had to do. So… I would go out with men on dates and I made them take me home. When I was in their homes, I gave them a pill—I stole those from Cassie's mom—and put them to sleep... then I would steal anything I could, their money or expensive possessions, anything I could take with me and pawn later. It worked wonderfully with four guys, but then the fifth one had to get all butt-hurt and talk to Alpha Felix. I got arrested and taken to him but, luckily, he didn't know about the past four men I robbed, only the fifth one.

"You all forgot who put you in those suits you wear so proudly. You thought you could take my money and run?" One tried to mumble something through his gag. I walked up to him, leaned down, and whispered, "Let me remind you what happens when you bite the hand that feeds." I picked up the pliers and went to work. You see, when you steal from me, you’re not just stealing money. You’re stealing loyalty. Brotherhood, Respect. And that shit, gentlemen, is worth blood. Now when you defile my orders, you get a taste of it.” I bent beside the loudest one. Stripped the tape from his mouth. He gasped, begging.

she began, voice sharp as glass, “it seems my engagement to Steve Anderson has been—” She didn’t get the rest out. A ripple tore through the crowd as two reporters surged forward, cameras flashing, microphones shoved like daggers toward her. Behind them, a projection lit up one of the massive ballroom screens — a leak blasted into the open. It was her manuscript. Well, my manuscript. The words she had stolen claimed and claimed as her own. Now, line by line, side by side, the truth glared across the screen. Gasps, and whispers tore through every corner of the room, the perfect socialite mask she had worm so dearly began to fracture under the weight of stolen words.

He’s nursing a cup of coffee when I slide into the seat across from him. “Still look like you don’t trust the government,” I say by way of greeting. He snorts. “And you still look like trouble.” I flash him a grin. “Flattery will get you everywhere. Now spill.” He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Brennan doesn’t just write stories, Stevie. He creates them. He finds dirt, sure, but when there’s nothing there? He makes sure something exists.” I frown. “You mean he plants stories?”

He smiles giving me the rundown of the day, but once I heard the part of me sending my mother a letter, the smile drops from my face slightly. Yes, I want to send my mother a letter to let her and everyone else know that I’m okay and nothing horrible has happened to me. But how in the world am I going to word the letter?! I can’t outright tell her a man kidnapped me who I’ve learnt is my mate, but how he is also a mythical creature that we never would know existed! I know how suspicious it will be that I disappear from the face of the earth, only to send her a letter telling her I’m okay but asking about a little story that she used to tell me as a child! I know if the roles were reversed an

He quickly cleared his throat. “I am in the bathroom.” The other person was about to open when they heard his voice. “Sorry sir I didn’t know it was occupied.” It was one of the junior workers and his voice was shaking from fear. I was relieved my momentum was distu…….. I didn’t finish that as his finger went deep inside. He was not even scared we were almost caught. “How are you calm?” “They are called stolen moments for this reason. The adrenaline, the zeal and anticipation should feel like this.”