The Librarians Novels Novels & Stories

But considering the current scenario… “Your choice of subject sire?” the librarian asked. Ahem! Arthur cleared his throat. “Wolves and mates,” Arthur whispered so softly that the librarian had to lean in. “True mates.” “Identification or rituals or both,” the librarian hissed back. “Both,” Arthur mouthed the word. The librarian nodded and left. As Arthur waited at one of the reading desks, the librarian bustled back with at least half a dozen books. “These,” the librarian spoke as he arranged them in a particular order, “are in the reading order. You should get all required information in book one, but you can more information in others as well.”

It was a smell—the smell of jasmine and old paper. A figure stepped out from the shadows of the library. It wasn't a soldier. It was the Librarian from her visions. But this time, he looked solid. He looked real. “You are early, Faith Nightshade,” the Librarian said. The school is burning, Faith said. “I don't have time for riddles.”

Since it was still day time, I knew I couldn't go to the gardens, I didn't have my usual jobs any longer as I would be serving the queen herself and so I made my way to the one place I knew there wouldn't be anybody, not even Merilyn, the library. This time around, I needed some time alone to collect my thoughts and get myself back together. I wasn't going to be reading any books, or at least that's what I thought. When I got there, as expected, there was only the Librarian. The Lycans never really cared about the books, I wondered why they needed a library in the palace. The Librarian was an old woman, she was a werewolf as well. She was so lucky, at least she didn't have to deal with the L

I would slip inside, hide in one of the far aisles, and cry until I had no tears left. I smiled faintly at the memory as I greeted the librarian, who recognized me immediately and gave me a warm nod. The section on Moonwhisperers wasn’t hard to find; it occupied an entire wall of carefully preserved volumes with a small sign at the top of the shelf that read “Fragile.” I selected several books that looked promising and settled into one of the oversized leather armchairs tucked into a quiet corner near the back.

When we're on the near of national bookstore, I turn to the both of them. "Wait, before we go home. I just have something to buy here." They both looked at each other before we enter the bookstore. I let them looked for some bag, while I was on the part of the shelves where the books are in. I see first the bunch of those novels about vampires, novels with several erotics content, and then when I slightly kneeled down I was happy to see the lines of books about werewolves. When we're at the cashier, Leticia and Lara's brows lift up when they looked at me.

The librarian asked him to sit down for a talk. “Man, I run this library and I know which books are here. I know that you read those books so don’t try to decieve me. I’m gonna tell you this just once. You’re not fiction, stop reading those fictions and stop trying to act like them.” “Stop it. I just enjoy reading them.” “You are a werewolf. I know it.” “Werewolves are not real.” Anthony countered. “You are not fiction. It is not a figment of your imagination. You’re a werewolf,” Yugo, the librarian told him. “and that’s okay, because…”

The library had always been Leora’s escape. After the chaos of training, endless lessons, and the weight of expectations pressing down on her shoulders, she only wanted silence — the kind that didn’t demand answers. The vast shelves welcomed her like old friends. The scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air as sunlight filtered through tall, arched windows, casting soft gold patterns across the floor. She trailed her fingers along the spines of thick books, reading the fading titles — Ancient Bloodlines, The Rise of the Luna Courts, The War of Silver Moons.

Not unless they wanted to deal with the wrath of the librarians… and trust me, no one messed with the librarians if they valued their life, or at least their social standing. After Jessica’s claws—and I meant that literally—I needed someplace with less glaring, fewer whispers, and preferably no glitter bombs in my locker. And Mia was great but I really just wanted sometime to myself, considering we live together. The rows of shelves felt like old trees, tall and watching. I slid my fingers along the spines of the nonfiction section, dragging my gaze lazily across titles I wouldn’t read. I wasn’t looking for a book. I was looking for stillness.

"It's nice talking to you and all but I think I'll head back and rest. I've had a little bit too much." Without waiting for his reply I made my speedy escape. That had been really close… Bad mouth! My inner monologue almost got me in trouble. This is a side effect of sleepiness, makes one dumber by fifty percent. The trip back to the dormitory was nostalgic. Mrs Peterman bade me farewell yesterday and gave me my favourite physical book as a parting gift. As much as I loved research books and historical journals, my favourite physical tome was fiction. Fiction archive books were really rare to find as many of them were destroyed alongside civilisation during the Great Explosion. People had no

A smile crept onto my face as I adjusted my grip on the novel, its cover barely hiding the kind of story that made my heart race. A dark, depraved mafia romance. It had a male lead who didn’t ask permission so much as demand surrender. A man who played with consent the way a composer toyed with notes—artfully, deliberately, with the kind of confidence that made my skin prickle and my thighs press together. One that was over too soon. The kind of book I devoured in a fever and now I was in need of another. Most folks wouldn’t think of the local library as a treasure trove of scandalous reads, but I knew better. The librarians were in on the secret, intentionally filling the shelves with books