The Second Sister Book Novels & Stories

Her transformation had not gone as far as that of Svetlana’s father: he had empty holes where his eyes had been but hers harbored black furry spiders quivering inside her irises. I’m an orphan now, Svetlana thought dully. It’s not too bad to be an orphan. The Voice is our father. I don’t need anybody else. Not mother, father, or . . . I had a sister named Sveta. My sister was a pest. I bet you are a good girl . . . Andrei! The cry in her mind was so loud that she was sure the eyeless puppets would hear it, but they did not stir. Brother! Help!

I wasn't the kind of person who could just toss someone's possessions carelessly, not even my sister's, not even after what she'd done. "Some poor charity shop worker is going to have a heart attack when they open these boxes," Maya joked, holding up a barely-there piece of lingerie. I laughed, though it felt strange to be touching my sister's intimate things. "I'm sure they've seen worse." "Doubt it." She dangled a lacy scrap of fabric. We continued working, making steady progress through the massive closet. When I reached the back corner shelf, my fingers brushed against something solid tucked behind a stack of cashmere sweaters. I pulled it out, surprised to find a leather-bound book.

Killian POV： I pulled out the certificate with trembling hands. The name was written in bold letters—Selena Blackmoor. Not Clara. Never Clara. My vision blurred. My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. She had signed it away. She had given up on being my mate. Tears burned my eyes as I staggered back, clutching the paper like a knife buried in my palm. On the desk, an envelope caught my gaze. My name scrawled in her familiar handwriting.

"As long as she is there, Killian will never open his heart to us." "And..." Alice pointed at the stalled 99.8%. "That last 0.2% isn't love. It's Trust." "Killian gave Second Sister the title, but in his mind, she's still a sleeper agent who could betray him at any moment." Just then, Second Sister Sofia sent a message in the group chat. Every word dripped with blood: "I can't hold on... My inner wolf is withering." "He didn't give me glory; he gave me a shackle."

Lucien smiled, slow, predatory, like a man who'd just won a game I didn't know I was playing. ​"Welcome home, little sister." ​And just like that, my boring, miserable, predictable life exploded into a thousand pieces. ​I should've taken the stairs.

Veronica had to bite her lip hard to keep from moaning. "I've been feeling jealous of my sister," the woman continued, completely unaware. "She just got a promotion at work, and instead of being happy for her, I felt... bitter. Envious." Marcus began to move—slow, deep thrusts that had his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside Veronica's pussy. "Jealousy is—is human," Veronica managed, her voice remarkably steady considering there was a thirteen-inch cock moving inside her. "The sin is in letting it poison your relationship with your sister. Have you considered talking to her about your feelings?"

Both the sisters watched Scarlet sleep soundly after having the phonic conversation, while Destiny was the one who was worried to the core. Announcement:- Dear Readers, Thankyou all for being with me in this journey. The book is near completion. We are almost near the end. Keep supporting me and if you like my work, recommend it to your friends too. Also, I would be dropping off my second book. It's a werewolf romance book. I would announce the platform soon. Follow me on i***a for my new book updates. pooja.bansal.92560 Love you all.

"I heard all of it." The room was very quiet. Irina sat in the chair beside the bed and felt simultaneously like a teenager caught doing something she shouldn't and an adult who knew she hadn't done anything wrong and wasn't sure which feeling she was more entitled to. "I didn't plan it," she said. "I know you didn't," Anna said. "It wasn't — I wasn't trying to take anything from you—" "Irina." Anna's voice was soft. "I know that too." She looked at her sister. At the face that was her mother's jaw and her father's eyes and fourteen years of growing up alongside each other in a country that wasn't theirs and then an ocean apart and then back together again.

She cuts my sister off, “That was I write comes to life. Yes, my books are real.” Then it clicks, “We are your books, at least we are in it.” “You’re right,” She smiles at me, “It’s actually a series. Your book is still ongoing, the second book and there will be another in the future, whil-” Asteria cuts in, “I am the first. How is that possible?” “I make a lot of impossible things possible,” She points out but my sister’s questioning isn’t finished. “What did you call my book. What’s the name and please tell me that it’s completed,” My sister all but pleads and I snicker.