Taran Matharu Books Novels & Stories

Raymond was on the strong side, and my plan was to take him down as my final battle before I waived the last fight with the strongest Alpha, Taran. But that’s out of the window. By the window now sits a man in his thirties, away from everyone. His golden hair draped over his eyes, his head kept low. Taran is a cold one. Not dirty, but not on my friend list either. He has no friend in the League, nor a mate. That seat had been his way before I even got into the League. He is commonly known as the strongest among the 13 seats for a reason, and that reason is why I wanted to avoid this fight--

Hell, all I could think right now was the way his skin had felt and the way his mouth had tasted. I was hungry. Starving for Tohr, for my mate. -Mara-. My name echoed through my head almost painfully. And it certainly wasn't Tohr's voice that did it. I jerked my head up from the book that Nerrian had been translating to help me learn their history and their language. -Sorry! - I responded back, burying my thoughts deep.

Sharon asked, seeing how Tara suddenly paused. “I heard Sir Mathew run away from home the second time, and he went to join a mafia gang.” “So? What came after that?” Sharon asked. “But to join the deadly gang, his first task was to kill his sister,” Tara revealed.

"ONLY IN YOUR DREAMS. TAKSH OBEROI" Mithaas spoke loudly and the teacher quickly hid Mithaas behind her body. Taksh looked at her with his wide-open eyes. Mithaas was smiling from ear to ear but this smile was not normal at all. Nothing was hidden from Mithaas. She had read all the files, and paperwork related to the name with photographs pasted of TAKSH OBEROI and TANAY OBEROI. And there she was facing the villain of her parents' lives, her aunt's life, and also her grandparents' lives.

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Let’s come back in the morning or tomorrow to get the books. Taran shakes his head before writing: ‘Let me borrow your jacket, backpack, and anything else holding your scent. It should cover mine enough they won’t get suspicious.’ I doubt my jacket will fit him, but I hand it to him along with my bag. Taran puts the bag over his shoulder then drapes my jacket over his arms as if he’s carrying it for me. I take the books and head to the counter. My heart is racing as I set the books on the checkout counter along with my card.

And most Alphas would accept for power to join, so long as the people are not mad or evil. Taran was badly injured that day as well. He was barely alive when I found him, covered in blood. I couldn't imagine him running into a little girl and only left her alive. Besides, he never mentioned her ever, not even when I was looking into the kills that night. I didn't believe him. Taran always knew he was sliding into madness, like it was a matter of time, instead of a posibility. That was why I thought maybe Nat was his true mate, and he only denied that because he wouldn't want to share his fate with anyone.

I sincerely hope you embrace the journey of this captivating tale. While fiction, the essence of Tara Lyle, the main character in this book, mirrors strength as resonant as the very essence of the narrative. I invite you to accompany her until the publication of Tara Lyle Book 2, "At Willete's Mercy," where the saga continues to weave its captivating narrative.

Author's pov "Mamu (maternal uncle) you here?" Aarhan asked astonished seeing him here "Yes Aarhan I am here! Your wife means my Daughter in law called me." That person replied "Why did you botherd him Tara?" Aarhan asked not understanding why she called him here suddenly "You did a good job Shayari Api! I was missing him badly, he did not come to meet us any more." Zeenat complained

I felt deeply uncomfortable by the thought of this. Damien stopped outside a pair of heavy wooden doors. He pushed one open. "This is my office." I stepped inside cautiously. The room was spacious without being extravagant. Tall bookshelves lined one wall, filled with books that looked far older than I was. A large desk sat near the windows overlooking the training grounds outside. Several maps were spread neatly across its surface. One wall held framed photographs. Some showed men and women standing together in front of the pack house. Others showed ceremonies I didn't recognize.