Stealing Stories Novels & Stories

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.”

After he left, I reread the section that would anchor the piece when the time came: *There's a difference between a story and a theft. A story is what you tell with consent, with context, with attention to potential harm. A theft is what you take because you can, then monetize the damage. We've taught a generation to mistake exposure for accountability. In spaces where people risk being vulnerable, that mistake becomes a weapon.* I stopped, read it aloud, and didn't hate it. That's as close to love as a writer gets when the stakes are this high.

I’m thinking they must have confused us with the sprites. On the other hand the accurate books were, well, accurate, for lack of a better word. It had stated that we can’t lie, like to play tricks on people, and we like to steal small things. Well I guess they did also have the whole, stealing babies and switching them with changelings things right, but only the Unseelie Court did that. The idea of stealing a baby holds no appeal to me.

Her solid evidence would make it a breeze in court. After the call ended, I crashed on my bed. Scrolled through my social media to pass the time and hopefully distract myself from the thought of Dane else I may end up doing something stupid like spending the rest of the weekend in his house. I froze. A headline topped the trending list. Virality Built on Theft. Below the topic were similar topics. All seemed to be connected. A dance, a lie, and a threat. Stealing Isn't a Scandal If You're Rich Enough.

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

"You asked for the devil's help, remember? It's a little late for moral qualms about my surveillance experience." I want to tell him I only asked because I had no one else to turn to, because Rowan would think I’m insane, and because Sebastian is the only person I know who operates in the grey areas of life. Who understands that sometimes you have to bend the rules to get to the truth. Who won't judge me for doing something that feels dangerously close to stalking. But the words die in my throat. Because Jane’s car is slowing down. And I see the Grandview Hotel rise ahead of us.

“Yes. I smelled something that pulled me toward her. My wolf feels a connection with her, and I'm certain about it.” The Seeker turned to me. “Anna, do you feel the same?” I hesitated before answering. “Yes. I perceived a beautiful scent from Devon, and my wolf feels a connection toward him.” Emily suddenly exploded. “You did this!” She pointed at me angrily. “You've always been jealous of me! You couldn't stand that Devon was going to be mine. You're a mate stealer!” “Emily, calm down,” the Seeker warned. “She must have done something!” Emily shouted.

"Eleanor, have you thought this through? This project requires total isolation. Once you head off, you won't be able to see your family." Jonathan Hensley's words pulled me back from my thoughts. My eyes were still damp. A lot had happened at home these past few days—nothing everyone at the institute didn't know about. I, Eleanor Shaw, was a fraud. "I know this incident has hit you hard, but you shouldn't act rashly. This concerns your life."

Briar knows I’m not going to judge whatever it is she’s up to. “Maybe I was doing some light stalking.” “Light stalking?” I say a silent prayer that Briar hasn’t gone and got some crazy PI job. It’s not exactly out of the question. “I mean, can you stalk kittens? That can’t be against the law,” she says, and I shake my head. On the surface this sounds legal, but I don’t think we’re going to land on legal by the time this story is over. “I might have kidnapped a few kittens when I saw an opening.”

boldly scrawled on the bottom, approving each purchase. “Gotcha, Ms Greyson,” I sneer as I look them over. I don’t know how my father got his hands on them, but they look real enough. It doesn’t matter if they are real, the implication is damning. Based on what is in my hands, Greyson Mills has been embezzling money from Steele Industries for YEARS and using that money to cover up their own crimes. It doesn’t matter if Cordelia knew what she was signing, or even if she signed them at all.