Turtle Creek Novels & Stories

Malachi and Levi drove to the Council ranch in silence. Levi had spent two full days silencing the Mexican cartel in Anaheim, making sure there would be no blow back to Kai. The Council’s ranch, in Montana, was located on Bitterroot Lake. It was built on the river with groves of trees flanking the house. It had wide open spaces, and it was quiet. The Council held meetings there, and once or twice, they’d invited future Council Alphas to the ranch.

* * * The creek wakes her before the light does. It has been running since before Aldenvale existed, longer than anyone in the valley has been alive, and in the early dark of the northern Nevada morning it is the loudest and most patient thing in the world. Tara lies still and listens to it and she thinks about patience, about the specific kind that does not require a destination, that is simply the state of continuing because continuing is what the creek does, and she thinks about Ressa, who has been waiting thirty-five years with her hand on the latch, and about Cort, who left a timestamp in a deleted record and came back every year to wonder if this would be the year. Arden is at the wind

Beatrix: After my shift at the café, I decided to take a walk. The restrictions had kept most of the media at bay, but I still took the back alley to avoid the reporters. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over WillowRidge, and I found myself drawn toward the community hall. The place was quiet, almost eerie in the fading light. I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. Memories flooded back—the laughter of children, the warmth of my father’s hand as he led me to the play area, and… Sebastian.

B: The Whispering Coral The sea was too quiet. That was the first thing Calista noticed as their skiff cut through the shallows of the Crescent Reach, nearing the structure Taye had called "The Whispering Coral." She had expected gulls, the lap of waves, the howl of wind—but all she heard was the muffled thud of water against hull and the distant hum of something ancient, something alive. Not just alive, but listening. The trench appeared out of the fog like a wound in the sea—an elliptical chasm of pale coral ridges glowing with inner light. The shapes were unnatural, too symmetrical to be made by currents or time. Coral should not shimmer like bone.

He swam like he was not pulling another person. At some point, Talia wanted to say that she can swim on her own, but she kept those words to herself because she enjoyed the water taxi service Drake provided. Drake slowed down when they reached a thick curtain made of willow branches. He spread the branches to create a path that revealed a small inlet. Their destination. Talia was nervous. She could still hear the muffled clamor from the beach. Was Drake really thinking that they should go at it here? Sure, there are dense bushes and more willow trees on each side, but what if someone comes and sees them?

j " Beta what the hell was that attack from. There hasn't a attacks in 4 years." " Yes Alpha. I have connected the Delta so far there has been attacks that have spread from Texas toward the pack. So far we haven't found anything that could connect Rose to it all." replied T.j

… Down in the garden, Jace was tugging Adora excitedly toward a stone bridge and gentle stream, eager to show her his pets. The water flowed clear and fresh, revealing colorful fish and two large golden turtles beneath the surface. “Aunt Adora, their real name is golden-headed box turtles. They’re native to our country. See how shiny they look in the sunlight?” For someone still in kindergarten, Jace was surprisingly knowledgeable. Adora peered into the stream and nodded. “You’re right. Their shells really do look like gold.” The two of them watched the turtles with fascination, unaware that someone had quietly approached behind them.

“Turtles?” Oh, yes!" the Sheikh continued, oblivious to the tightness that had just wrapped itself around Davidson and, he noticed, Brian. Brian's body had stiffened beyond its normal level of stiffness, his fork dangling half-way to his lips. "Hawksbills. Rare. Delightful. They breed on the beaches that our channel borders. A nuisance, truly. Always delays things with the environmental ministry. But soon, it will be Mr. Brian's nuisance!" He chuckled again, thumping Brian on the shoulder.

I thought about Kratavak's hand over mine. I thought about Xander saying hello to two lives that didn't exist outside my body yet. And I thought about my mother, who hadn't been fast enough. I took off my jacket. The east creek was exactly as Declan described, fast and loud with snowmelt, black in the midnight dark. I crouched at the bank and pressed the jacket into the soft mud at the waterline and poured a careful amount of the vial's contents across the collar, the sleeve, the places where scent would concentrate.

~Tyra’s Point of View~ Obviously this wouldn’t be my first time being intimate but the anticipation sure made it seem like it. Reba was practically falling over herself trying to chase him down. We came through some brush and I heard the sound of water faintly trickling. It was easy to track Ridge between his scent and the blood on him, which simultaneously made me weak with desire but also disgusted. I didn’t like my mate being hurt and I was desperate to fix his wounds.