Stigmata Book Novels & Stories

As I mentioned before, I had never been a damned fan of things like this. Stein took his time. His hands moved to the zip, and he opened it to reveal what lay inside. Since his bedside lamp was on, I could look inside, and what I saw made my blood run cold. Is it too late to step back now? He didn't look at me as he reached in. I watched his hand close around something before he lifted it and held it to the light. Nipple clamps. Stainless steel with the jaws lined with rubber grips and a chain dangling between them. He set them on the bed beside the bag. Then he reached in again.

Stamped into the cover was a symbol: an eye inside a triangle, surrounded by curling, intricate lines that almost seemed alive. “What is this?” Leila asked, keeping her voice steady. Christina gave her a look that said she was either testing her or trying to decide how much to say. “This,” she said at last, “is why you’ve been dodging mustard jackets and cleaning up after dead archaeologists.” Leila’s heart skipped a beat. She sat down, sliding the book toward her. It was heavier than it looked, its weight a promise of bad news. “Oh my! Explain,” she said, flipping it open.

Mystique breathed searing and enormously, her chest elevating along with her shoulders, her clothes were flamed and blackened, her face was sweltering and her skin was bruised from the torrid fire but she was immune to the pain, she couldn't feel it but how could she when she just witnessed something she had never calculated. Though the impact was stouted, Damien displayed no sign of pinch from his cheek. He gazed at the other blankly, emotionlessly and without void, his face was completely poker, his clothes were also burnt revealing almost all his chest, with bloody skin. He was handcuffed, helpless and in torment, he didn't know what to do, how did things spined this way, how did they get

A loud laughter that echoed through the room left my mouth. “Damn,” I said, wiping laugh-tears off the edges of my eyes. Then it clicked. Those luxury gloves he gifted me. Exactly. Only someone of his caliber could purchase that. Damn… this shit was getting more interesting than I thought. I picked up the book on the seat and…. There it was. I wasn't wrong at all. His name, signed on the big-ass book. Grey Sthor. Confirming my earlier predictions. Nice… And the book was… “Basics of Health.” It was a medical textbook.

I’m not going to kill you. It's not for no cause. I'm jealous of you. Despite the fact that we are imprisoned by a terrible stigma, I have discovered how beautiful you are and have discovered myself who will be happy with you. I want to be perfect. So, Lavina, are you willing to share your answers and teach me about the meaning of perfection? I’m Raveen, on the bars of stigma. ***

The creature we intended to create, the weapon strong enough to rule both packs and covens, would remain a dream. I couldn’t let that happen. I turned toward the far wall and knelt beside the hearth. My fingers found the loose stone easily, and I pried it free. Behind it, hidden in a hollow space, lay a leather-bound book wrapped in crimson silk. The Grimoire of Thalora: my mother’s legacy. Every forbidden spell she had collected, every curse she had perfected, every binding stronger than blood. I unwrapped it carefully and set it on the table. The cover was cold to the touch, almost pulsing beneath my fingertips, as if the book itself was alive. I flipped through the brittle pages until I f

Finally, she found the one she was looking for. Layla managed to grab the book and add it to her stack in her arms when her eyes caught sight of something. A book stood out among the rest. It was bound with dark brown leather and had brandished designs on the spine. The title read - Malleus Vampiro: A Treatise on Vampires. Placing her other books on the floor, Layla pulled the leather-bound book from its home amongst the others and opened it. As her eyes skimmed the pages, she caught a couple of words; SHADOW STALKERS, BLOODSUCKER, PHANTOMS.

She passed sections on herbal medicine, the history of forgotten kingdoms, dragon lore, ancient wolves, and magical creatures she had never heard of. Then something caught her eye. Tucked away on a lonely shelf sat a weathered black book, almost hidden behind larger volumes. Unlike the others, it carried no title. Only a faded silver emblem. A crescent moon embracing a flame. Adriana stopped breathing. Almost instinctively, she pulled back the sleeve covering her left hand. The silver mark on her palm caught the sunlight. She looked from the mark to the emblem on the book, then back again. "They're identical." Mia fell silent.

Upon its cover, a sigil glowed faintly silver: a crescent moon, three stars, cradled in wings. Nyra froze, her gaze locking onto the symbol. “I’ve seen this before… in my dreams,” she whispered. I turned to her. “Where?” “A woman wore it as a pendant. When she touched me, her hand was warm, but inside… it burned. The touch was not of this world.” I did not hesitate. With one motion I broke the seal, the chains falling onto the table with a metallic clang. The book groaned as its pages surrendered, and on the very first leaf, crimson ink blazed:

she asked, eyeing the collapsing ceiling beams. “It’s here,” I replied calmly. She frowned. “How are we supposed to find anything in this mess?” I stepped further inside, my boots crunching over broken stone and brittle parchment. “The book isn’t ordinary,” I said. “Dark leather binding. Silver etchings along the spine. The symbol of the abyss burned into the front.” Ansel blinked. “That narrows it down to… one in a million.” I glanced at her over my shoulder. “Then start looking.”