The Unravelling Book Novels & Stories

She doesn’t know it yet, but I saw the part of her she keeps locked behind exhaustion and self-preservation. And I can’t unsee it. So when I found the old invoice—her burner number listed at the bottom—and fed it into my private contact system, I didn’t hesitate. >Don’t be afraid. I only want to see the real you. And she dropped the phone like I reached through the screen and touched her. Perfect. Not because she was afraid—but because she felt it. That pull between terror and thrill. The one that makes your skin prickle. The one that says someone sees you. Truly sees you.

I will be stronger even though I have to keep people at arm’s length. I clutched my heart, curling into a ball, the void getting bigger and bigger, and fell asleep with warm tears staining my pillow. If you want, you can join Mahi Mistry's F******k Group or Page: Author Mahi Mistry and also follow her on I*******m @authormahimistry to keep up with the recent updates regarding her books! You can access all the books + bonus content on her P*****n Page Mahi Mistry.

She feels that there might be something that she’s missing out on and thinks that Evarius might be able to shed some light on it. There are only a few pages left, so Tasha decides to finish them before going to bed. She doesn’t have a morning class tomorrow, so she can afford to sleep in. Evarius had said that she would have to work out the way to undo the spell herself, and she knows why because the book does not explicitly mention it. It only has hints and tips related to unraveling spells, spells for reversal, etc. The last few pages are filled with these sorts of things. As her mother tongue is English, her brain translates all the Latin into English to understand it better...

She stayed frozen in the driver’s seat, eyes wide, body locked in place, every muscle screaming at her to run while her brain screamed louder to stay invisible. An engine started somewhere behind her—quiet, distant, then fading fast as the shooter’s car pulled away into the night. Silence crashed back in, heavier than before. Vivi didn’t move for a full hour. Her legs had gone completely numb. Her heart hammered so loudly she was sure it would give her away. She kept her eyes glued to the body lying there like a discarded rag, praying silently for the first hint of dawn, for the distant wail of a siren, for the sound of early-morning workers—anything except the crushing, suffocating quiet th

He releases me, resting his back on the headboard, and grabs my thigh, pulling me closer. His hand goes to my hair, releasing it to let my curls fall freely. He guides his fingers from my scalp to the ends of the curls, muttering in a husky voice, "Fucking beautiful." Our bodies dance in unison, discovering our pleasures and desires. It's a whirlwind of passion. In his arms, I discover a freedom I've never known before. As the night takes shape, the world outside fades away, and I fall into the enticing spell of the stranger.

The heavy textbooks slipped from my grip, crashing to the carpeted floor with a loud, echoing thud. ​The voices in the alcove instantly went dead silent. ​I bent down frantically, my eyes stinging with hot, burning tears of pure shame as I tried to gather the books. I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to run back to the empty loft and never show my face on this campus again. ​Suddenly, another pair of hands reached down into the dim light of the aisle, steadily picking up the heaviest volume before I could reach it. ​I looked up through a blur of tears.

The Invitation Jane’s POV Fate has a peculiar way of surprising us when we least expect it. It can bring forth either joy or hardship, leaving us uncertain of its intentions. As Jane Collins, a struggling twenty-five-year-old artist, I faced my fair share of challenges in my career. However, I remained determined not to surrender to discouragement. To make ends meet, I took on a job as a waitress at a fancy restaurant. One day, during my break time at my job, I found myself engrossed in a conversation with my best friend, Sarah Anderson. Unexpectedly, she interrupted with a question.

"Ah, that's true. I've been reading a lot about humans lately, they're quite interesting creatures. Apparently they're not affected by silver in any way. I tested it out a couple days ago with Madeline by giving her a silver necklace, and it was true! She held it in her hand with no reaction at all." Matthew glared at her, not liking the idea of her 'testing' things on his mate. "How did you even know about that?" "I read it in a book about different creatures, I think I brought it with me." She rummaged around her bag, before pulling out a thick book and setting it on his desk: Encyclopedia of the world's intelligent creatures. "Isn't it our turn to coach the new soldiers at the training gr

"The Vance family built a world where every breath was an advance on a debt you couldn't see. But out here, the air doesn't keep a tally." I looked down at my hands. The stain from the printer's ink was fading, turning into a faint, gray shadow along the creases of my palms. The phantom in the silk suit, the Faceless Author, the iron pens—they were all sinking into the deep, dark reservoir of the unwritten past. We had torn the book in half, and in doing so, we had finally broken the sequence. The Geography of the Unwritten

Hi there! 😊 I think someone may have left a comment on one of the chapters yesterday. I’ve been searching all morning and going through each chapter carefully, but I couldn’t find it. I’m so sorry about that! 😅 Thank you so much for reading my book; it truly means the world to me! 💖 Your support and time spent with my story make me so happy and super grateful!!! Big hugs, much love, O.J✨