The One And Only Novel Nathan Novels & Stories

"He's all used-up, and you're still acting like he's a treasure? You must be really desperate! What's the difference between that incubus and a dog in heat? Someone like you should just find an honest guy willing to take you in!" Tracy Rowe was standing outside the county office with Jamie Stephenson, arguing with me at the top of her lungs. Meanwhile, Lionel Andrus, the man with an incubus bloodline, was waiting quietly to the side, holding our paperwork.

Message: Don’t move against us. Or you lose everything. Nathan groaned and covered his face with the blanket. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’m dead already.” The room stayed quiet. Nathan clutched the flash drive like a teddy bear and whispered one last line before drifting into uneasy sleep. “God help me. I just mailed my own coffin.”

Anonymous account, the kind that could be created in two minutes and abandoned. Subject line: I was Nathan's Portland victim. She stared at it for a moment. She opened it. It was short. Eight lines. You don't know me. I lived in Portland three years ago in the building next to Nathan's grandmother's house. He noticed me first. I thought it was coincidence. It wasn't. He told me about you once — early on, before things got strange. He said there was a woman he had loved for years. That you were the only one who had ever mattered to him. He said it the way people say something they've made peace with. Like a fact.

Nathan took the shirt and trousers quietly and entered the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. It was eleven in the night, and the papers Nathan needed to review and sign were not even half. His head was throbbing, “how did I get so tangled up with the rogues?” He asked, feeling defeated. He promised Max to win back his mates and he can’t offend him by associating the rogues with Bastien and Agatha again. But what if they were genuinely connected to the rogues? Will he just brush it off to please Max? He got up mindlessly, entered the elevator, and pressed the button for the ground level. After exiting the elevator, as if his feet had a mind of their own, he went to the west side to ente

“Honestly, you’d think they were still teenagers the way they go on about this their lovey-dovey drama.” Owen nodded indulgently, smiling. “Those too.” Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, Owen glanced over at Nathan through the rearview mirror and asked “So, how’s New Zealand treating you, my boy?” Nathan’s smile reduced slightly. He looked out of the window for a moment as if searching for the right words. “You remember that scene in Cast Away where Tom Hanks is stranded on the island?” He began, his voice quieter now. “Crystal-clear waters, white sandy beaches, but the isolation, the loneliness... it’s crushing, bro.”

And with a smile on his face, Nathan knew that he was ready for whatever came next. As Nathan sat in the silence of his office, the city's ceaseless hum a muted soundtrack beyond the window, he found himself thinking about his journey. He remembered his first case, a simple labor dispute that had opened his eyes to the harsh realities of corporate exploitation. He remembered the late nights and early mornings spent studying, learning, and preparing. He remembered the feeling of his first victory, the overwhelming sense of relief and triumph that had brought tears to his eyes.

I felt the two maids’ watchful eyes on me, their expressions sympathetic yet urging me to go on. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I reached out and knocked softly. There was no answer, only silence from the other side of the door. I turned to the maids, who gave me an encouraging nod, gesturing for me to go inside. Pushing the door open, I stepped into the dimly lit room. Nathan was sitting on a chair by the window, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring out into the night. He didn’t look at me, didn’t even acknowledge my presence. His posture was rigid, his shoulders tense, and his gaze distant, lost somewhere in memories I couldn’t reach.

Or was my pride inventing thoughts where there were none? Nathan didn’t waste time on women who didn’t matter. He didn’t escort them away from conversations. He didn’t lower his voice for them or shield them with his body the way he had with Anna. I had seen it— the way his attention narrowed on her, as if the rest of the room had blurred. And she followed him without hesitation, her posture relaxed like they were already familiar with each other Something inside my chest twisted. I hated it because he never looked at me that way when we meet for the first time, A.M.T. for the Met it was a single night of pleasure which I hoped would happen again but it didn’t

“Something like that. A lot happened. I don’t really want to talk about it.” He didn’t push. Instead, he shifted his weight and stood, brushing off his pants. “Fair enough.” “But what about you?” I asked, lifting a brow. “This is the first time I’ve seen you out of your room voluntarily. Especially this late.” Nathan chuckled, a bit sheepishly. “What I’m doing is… embarrassing.” “Now I really want to know,” I teased, stepping around a chair. He sighed like a man surrendering a secret. “I was reading children’s stories.”

Nicole looked at the clock in the room and said, “I’m kind of in a hurry so I’ll make my story brief and comprehensive. After breaking your heart, I owe you an explanation my darling Muhammad.” Muhammad tried switching on the radio on his belt, in hope that anyone on the other end could listen to the conversation if the signal was restored. If Maryam and he were going to die tonight, their death might as well not be in vain. The most important thing was revealing the real identity of The First One.