Tawan Novels & Stories

TAKEN fifteen Marcus worried nervously. He wasn't sure how he would tell Stella he wanted to leave home. He just got back from wherever he went to and he was not going to work today, what other explanation could he give if he didn't want to reveal his fitness practice to her. He paced the room three times beating his legs continuously. Stella sat with her phone as she watched her husband in disarray. He was casually dressed to go out but he looked bothered about telling her where.

I’ve only seen Tilly twice in my life, she is sort of a ‘on call witch’ who moved about the three northern packs when she is needed. As a child I was terrified of her. She is really tall for a witch, I think she’s about 6 foot and as she is slender and graceful it is almost majestic to watch her. She has a penchant for wearing a lot of white so I remember her looking like a graceful swan, stoic and calm on a lake.

So harmonious and fluid. Scrunching my brows, I grumbled, "Don't patronize me. I'm not the coward hiding in the dark here." He made a tsking noise, his footsteps clanking as if the floor underneath was made of glass. When his face came into view my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. He looked, dare I say it, like the most attractive man alive. Coming from me, another guy, that meant something. He was clad in all white –white suit, white button-down shirt, white tie, white shoes –it was almost blinding when the light I had created bounced off him. In his hand was a black staff with a snakes head. The snake looked startlingly familiar to the tattoo on my arm.

the someone cut me off. "Her name is Annabelle Siromani, my daughter."

Joey says to me and I answer with a sharp nod before digging into the sweet-smelling food. A few minutes into the meal, I try to make conversation, “What part of Zorah are you guys from? I don’t know much about the geography of the place but I’d still like to know.” Thea answers first, as usual, “Well I’m from Corva, the trade capital, and so is West.” “I’m from Doran, a small, quiet place. And you?” Joey asks. “My mom’s from Orion so I guess I can say I’m from there too.” I answer.

Caterina POV “Até, I wish I could say it was good to see you, but we both know that would be a lie…” “Oh Caterina, you wound me. Is that any way to greet your favourite cousin?” Até is the goddess of mischief, and my cousin. Technically, all the gods and goddesses are. All daughters of Poseidon are Sirens, and we all trained under Até. She is a master of leading men, both mortal and immortal down the path to ruin. She is beautiful and dangerous. Not someone I was hoping for us to encounter here.

“I’m Adelina and I’m calling from KlasyRhodes fashion home, Luanda. We need you to create some designs ma. We want to put up a fashion show and we need new unusual foreign designs.” Could she just stop with the madam thing, Chava had cringed one of her fists already; she didn’t like to be addressed with ‘ma’. Luanda? That was an African country and the caller didn’t sound like a regular client. Where did she get her contact from? “OK, my name is Chava or you can call me Miss Ava.” She smiled. “OK mad--sorry, Miss Ava. How much is your rate?” “When is the deadline? And how many designs?”

He rubbed the back of his neck and said, “No, they’re exaggerating. It’s just a little unpleasant.” I nodded and wondered if he was just being polite. It wasn’t long before a very tall and muscular middle-aged man entered the room. I could instantly sense he had a superior presence and was likely someone high up in the pack. He sat down across from me at a table and made himself comfortable, making me believe this was not too uncommon an occurrence. “Hello, I’m the beta of the pack. And you are?” He looked at me, squinting his eyes. “Talia,” I replied, studying him. He had a friendly face, with kind eyes, a scruffy beard, and a pleasant scent. But the way he spoke, he was all business.

Thank you. COPYRIGHT TORY Written by: Uzowei Tehillah ( Cleo_patra) Copyright©2020 All right reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission from the writer.