The Poet X Audiobook Novels & Stories

He murmurs into her ear, making her tremble in his arms, a sweet foreign feeling ignites inside her. Xander was already dressed in black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt, his hair messy indicating he ran his fingers through them, he looked hot. Shira purred at him, showing various sexy scenes to Abi, which made her bite her lip as her cheeks turned red. “Bite your lip one more time, and forget about having dinner,” Xanders says in a rough voice, “What?” Abi asked, confused by his outburst,

finally, his voice strained. "Before it’s too late."But Timbre didn’t move. She couldn’t. "I’m not going anywhere, Xavier. Not until I’ve done everything I can to help you. Even if it means facing whatever darkness is inside you."For a moment, it seemed as if Xavier would argue, but then something in his expression softened, and he took a step back, allowing her to enter the den.As she crossed the threshold, Timbre couldn’t shake the feeling that she was stepping into the lion’s den—a place where love and danger were inextricably linked, where the line between savior and destroyer was dangerously thin.The den was eerily silent, the air thick with tension. Timbre could feel Xavier’s presence

XANDER’S P.O.V Half a bottle of my whiskey cradled me to sleep as I tilted my head back on the chair that I was sitting on. The fire crackled and the sound of the rain was like a lullaby as I was drawn into the darkness and away from the pain. ……

“For something. I don’t know what yet.” “You’re welcome to it.” They moved along the shelf. The city outside had settled into its late evening quiet. At one point a group passed on the pavement, laughing, audible through the glass before the sound faded. At the poetry section Delphine stopped. “Do you read poetry?” she said. “I live in a bookshop,” Sera said. “That’s not an answer.” “I read it the way I listen to music. Not to extract meaning. To be inside the sound of it.”

Third person’s p.o.v "You don't get to be done." Xavier’s voice came out quieter than he had intended. Althea looked up at him. Her exhausted eyes were calm in a way that frightened him. "I do." "No." He shook his head slowly. The Alpha in him was waking up underneath the broken man. "You don't. Not yet. Not while I am still standing. You said you were tired and I heard you. But I am not tired, Althea. I am furious with myself. I am desperate. I am every kind of foolish a man can be. But I am not tired and I am not letting you go."

Here, history lived without pretending to be kind. The morning was sharp with the scent of melting snow and distant pine. Beneath them, the valley yawned wide, still kissed by frost. Xander moved to the edge of the overlook. He didn’t speak for a long time. His hands flexed at his sides, like he was holding onto something that refused to be buried. Aria waited. She did not press. Sometimes, the quiet was part of the confession. Finally, his voice broke the stillness. Low. Rough.

Xander became the house’s unofficial engineer, patching up the dying heater, wiring together a battery bank from a graveyard’s worth of failed electric car cells. The attic was still theirs at night. Some evenings they didn’t come up for air until dawn, bodies slicked with sweat and laughing at the stupid patterns their limbs made on the dust-coated mattress. Other nights they lay in silence, Xander reading aloud from some book scavenged from the library’s rejected pile, Carolina twining his hair into loose blue-tipped braids until he dozed off. Sleep, when it came, was a tangle of dreams in half-remembered color. Always, though, the world pressed in.

I started pulling it out of the shelf but suddenly I heard someone whisper into my ears. "So this is where you have been holed up all day." Xander's baritone voice whispered into my ears with his warm breath fanning on my ears. I jolted, hearing him, and dropped the book as I stumbled backwards, almost falling on the floor, but Xander caught me and pulled me against his chest with his hand secured around my waist.

He was amazing. "Oi!" The guy snapped me out of my thoughts. "Leave him alone." The blue-haired boy said. His voice was heavenly, I could listen to it all day. The poet inside of me described his voice. ‘Travelling down a track of silk Velvet to the touch I wanted it so very much To be bathed in this sensual thing Would be the ultimate dream.' I cringe immediately. And shake my head. Xavier stop. You can't be like this. You will be punished.

Don't let them make you forget who you are in the noise. "I won't." "And Xavier?" "Yes?" "When the fire speaks—make sure they know it has a name." He stood there long after she vanished. Listening to the stone. To the silence that no longer scared him. Fire on Paper Later, when the corridor had emptied and all was still again, Xavier sat on the stone bench. The cold no longer mattered. "Guard." "What do you want now?" "Parchment. Ink." "For your confession?" "No." "Then what?" "My voice."