Untainted Book Novels & Stories

Even if there isn't. I went directly to Draco's room and luckily I didn't have to struggle with the lock because it was open, even if it wasn't open…I would have bashed it anyway. I began rummaging through his belongings and just as I was about to give up, I stumbled upon a book that looked like a journal. I wanted to abandon it but it looked like something that was really valuable and ancient so I opened it and behold ….it was filled with potions and spells and theories of the wolf world.

Untouched by truth. Perfect.

Her voice was polite, but there was something about the way she asked that made Sarah’s stomach twist slightly. “I attended Westbridge University. I studied management consulting,” Sarah answered, keeping her voice steady. “Interesting,” Vivian said, swirling her wine glass. “And your family?” Sarah hesitated for only a fraction of a second. “I grew up in an orphanage.” Vivian’s expression remained composed, but the slight upward tilt of her chin gave her away. “Oh.” She said it with such finality that it sent a wave of discomfort through Sarah. Sarah’s grip on her fork tightened slightly. She knew that ‘Oh’ carried a wealth of meaning, judgment, doubt, perhaps even disapproval.

He drops the unchained book on the floor in front of me, bends down to kiss the top of my head as I get comfy, then sits on the end of the sofa closest to me, well within arms reach. The book has beautiful, with swirling gilt script on the spine and the front cover which makes me think of Wolfie when he is looking out through Phoenix’ eyes. As I run my fingers along each letter, sparks tingle and dance across my fingertips. ‘Liber Umbrarum’ are the words embossed into the dark brown leather. I have no idea what they mean and if I’m honest, I’m not entirely sure I want to find out. “I’m here baby girl. You can do this. You need answers.” I hadn’t noticed Phoenix kneeling beside me until he s

But it could also make you insane, especially when you were surrounded by nothing but books. I scanned the bookshelves, looking for an interesting book title to read. Elizabeth said that reading could be fun and exciting if I put my mind to it. Whilst looking for a book to read, an untitled book caught my attention. It was a blue book with no title whatsoever. I grabbed it from the shelf and walked to the chair by the window as I opened it. There was no title on the inside, either. I quickly turned the pages up to the very first chapter as I sat down, the light from the outside illuminated the whole room, not leaving one corner unilluminated. I laid back onto the chair and began to read, “In

Peaceful. Vespera Hale walked along the mahogany shelves, trailing her fingers over the spines of the books. Philosophy. Strategy. History. She stopped. On a shelf at eye level, nestled between The Art of War and a first edition of The Count of Monte Cristo, was a book she didn't recognize. It had no dust jacket. The binding was matte black, textured like volcanic rock. The lettering on the spine was silver, sharp and angular. SAVAGE REBORN.

It was the kind of pulse that goes directly past your skin and settles somewhere deeper. “I have not reached any conclusions yet,” Marcus said, standing near the altar with his hands clasped behind his back. “But I am certain of this: whatever this book is, it must be kept away from public knowledge. If it falls into the wrong hands, the wrong understanding, the consequences would be catastrophic.” “What does it do?” I asked. Marcus looked at me with the expression of a man who has been worrying about this question for longer than tonight. “This,” he said carefully, “is a Book of Untold Story. And it is not from this dimension.”

Because disobedience meant death. And maybe worse. --- Far in the distance, the last of Kael’s convoy sped through the forest roads, tires grinding against wet gravel, engines humming like shadows fleeing the storm. Inside the Rolls-Royce Cullinan Black Badge, Kael sat in the passenger seat, the ancient tome resting on his lap. The Book of Damned. Bound in something no one dared identify. Etched with runes that seemed to slither under the eye. Heavy as if filled with the weight of every soul it condemned.

He slices through the paper with slow precision, a subtle tightness in his jaw. Inside, nestled like a secret in a bed of crisp black tissue, is a book. A hardcover. Matte black jacket. White serif font. The Tangled Truth A Novel He freezes. The title registers like a whisper in his bones. Familiar. Haunting. His gaze falls to the author’s name printed below the title in small, elegant script: F. H. His heartbeat falters. He sits down slowly, almost mechanically, and opens the book with careful hands, his fingertips grazing the pages like he’s touching something holy. Each page exhales secrets. Each word unfurls a tether.

I tossed my jacket onto the couch and headed upstairs, kicking off my shoes as I went. After a quick shower, I dressed in casual wear—black jeans and a soft brown tee. But I wasn’t done for the night. Not yet. My hand moved over the books on the small shelf in the corner of the room. I shifted a thick volume titled Ancient Lycan Bloodlines and pressed the hidden panel behind it. A mechanical click echoed softly. The shelf groaned and creaked, swinging open to reveal a narrow passage behind it—dimly lit and silent. I stepped inside the secret room, expecting the usual silence and lack of life.