The River: A Novel Novels & Stories

"I promise we'll come back here,' I assured her and she nodded, apppeased. Even though I had no idea how I was going to come back here once I left I just needed to give her a little assurance. As I moved forward, I saw a stream, but it wasn't water. It sparkled with a liquid light, and when I dipped my paw, it felt cool and refreshing. Fish, with scales that gleamed like precious stones, swam in the stream. They moved gracefully, leaving trails of colors behind them.

He mumbles under his breath. This guy is weird but he has a friendly aura around him. He doesn't talk much but when he does he keeps laughing but I still don't know what makes him laugh. Now that I can examine him up close, I can guarantee that he looks like a very intimidating person. With tattoos surrounding his arms and covering his neck, he also has his nose and ears pierced. When he isn't laughing, he looks like a scary person indeed. I wouldn't want to mess with him. "I'm River." It's my utmost attempt to start a conversation.

He turned toward the men standing behind Sarah, who were frozen in shock at the sudden turn of events. Sarah was still screaming, clutching her face. “Get her! What the fuck are you standing there for? Get her!” she shrieked blindly. The men rushed forward. River tilted his head slightly, and the lazy expression he usually wore vanished completely, replaced by something dark and terrifying. “The audacity,” he muttered coldly, “to even think about touching her. I don’t remember the last time I was this pissed. So go ahead. Play with me.” The men didn’t understand what he meant, until he moved. In one fluid motion, River grabbed the chair they had brought for us and swung it with brutal force.

We both shared the same questions, the same fears, lost on the same roads. The water was calm, almost unreal—like stretched glass suspended between me and reality. Merlin sat quietly on the grass, lost in thought, her curls tousled wildly by the breeze. I knelt at the riverbank, dipping my palms into the cold stream, letting droplets slide down my wrists. My gaze caught my own reflection. The eyes staring back were mine—and yet, they were not. They bore the marks of battle, despair, and loss. But beneath all that… who was I?

“At this point, I’m convinced my mate is dead or something.” “Come on, don’t say that,” Peter groaned. But I wasn’t joking. Not really. My eyes drifted back to the girls. Or rather, her. River. She was standing a few feet away, watching Hailey try on a hat, her arms loosely folded in front of her. She didn’t say much—she rarely did—but something about her silence pulled at me. She wasn’t empty… she was full of things unsaid. Like a book with pages stuck together, daring someone to peel them open and read what’s hidden inside.

God, even his smirk was a breathtaking sight. "Nothing. You are already a slave in my pack. I already bought you. I've gotten all that I needed." Ryker gaze swept over River’s body and curves, his eyes eating her up hungrily. River shuddered at the way his lustful gaze slid up and down her body. She wasn't even wearing anything. All she had on was a tank top and sweatpants. River's breath hitched in her throat when he started stalking towards her. Her fingers were trembling as she pushed herself into the wall as if the wall could dig in with her impact. Yet, she summoned the nerve to ask again.

“Zayn MacQuoid, you can’t be this selfish! I’m working hard right now. I can’t have kids!” I compromised to quell her anger. I valued her career, but she resigned so that she could take care of Charles and Caleb better. Besides, she used the money I had saved for retirement for Caleb’s wedding. My leg hurt terribly during that winter, but I was too poor to see a doctor. Moreover, the temperature at home was freezing. It made me shiver. I tried calling Layla for money, but she hung up on me repeatedly. I could not hold on since I was old. In the end, I froze to death.

Ava’s POV Sleep was a stranger that night. I had tossed and turned until the moon itself had traveled halfway across the sky, the glow through my curtains mocking my exhaustion. My wolf stirred restlessly beneath my skin, as though aware of my turmoil but refusing to share its calm with me. Every breath in the dark felt stifling, every thought circling back to Diego, to Sage, to the chains of my family’s expectations. I finally pushed the covers off with a sigh and padded to my balcony doors. The air outside was cool and heavy with the faint scent of rain. The courtyard below looked peaceful, but peace was the last thing inside me.

Riheirk moved through the ancient pines like a phantom made of shadow and cold air. He was out hunting, driven from his quarters by an internal restlessness that had turned his blood to liquid fire. Ever since his hands had touched the flawless, burning expanse of Brynn’s skin in the subterranean springs, his ironclad discipline had been in a state of violent, chaotic collapse. He hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours. His deep blue eyes were bloodshot, sharp, and hyper-focused, scanning the dark wilderness for a trace of movement.