Untouched Novel Harper Novels & Stories

Harper waved her hand dismissively. “Seriously, Ava, it’s nothing. Don’t go mothering me. I’m fine.” The reassurance was light, but it rang hollow. As they stepped out into the bright afternoon, Harper looped her arm through Ava’s, laughing about something trivial. But Ava couldn’t shake the unease twisting inside her. Harper had always been her safe place, her anchor. But she never lets her reciprocate the gesture. She could only wonder what kind of trouble she was in now.

Imprisoned, he's given a woman as a gift. Rob wakes up, essentially as a prisoner, at the Institute. They present him with a woman named Kitten as a gift, but he has no idea who she is. Everyone in the story is over 18. NB: This story contains mature themes of erotic sex, incest/taboo sex and of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. Enjoy. ****** Rob woke suddenly and jumped out of bed with an urgent need to urinate.

"It seems I’ve missed quite a lot while I was under the city." The next few days were filled with a quiet, busy peace. Captain Vance and his soldiers began to heal, their bodies growing strong under Hestia’s care. They shared stories with the outcasts, and slowly, the two groups became one. The "Null" were no longer empty shells; they were men and women discovering their names and their voices again. One evening, as Lyra and Rowan sat by the fire in their cabin, a large hawk with white-tipped wings landed on their porch. It wasn't a normal bird. Its eyes were a piercing violet, and tied to its leg was a small scroll of blue parchment.

Harper said as she brought her hand to her forehead and swayed a little. I position myself behind Harper to steady her as she appears overwhelmed and pale. Reflecting, I wonder if I should have approached the situation differently. It has been two weeks since Tambre shared the news about her uncle and aunts with Harper and me. Both Tambre and I had promised Harper that we would do everything possible to locate them. Using the information provided by Tambre, I had hired one of my best friends, Travis, who is a detective, to track them down. My hopes were for them to be found in time so they could make it to our wedding, which is fast approaching. Travis had found them within four days. The su

Need your brain. My thumb hovers for a second. Then I hit send. The message goes through. My heart beats a little faster. Not with nerves. With resolve. I set the phone down and stare at the ceiling. I’m not trying to start a war. But if someone insists on acting like they’re untouchable… Well. Sometimes you remind gods they bleed. ⸻ I pass Harper’s door again on my way to the stairs. Her light is still on. She’s sitting at her desk, working.

Text messages I had screenshot when Harper unlocked her phone and handed it to me with the quiet exhaustion of a woman who had been keeping someone else’s secret for so long she had forgotten it wasn’t hers to keep. Alfred had found out I had been to see her before I could do anything with what she had given me. He had moved them again within days, packing them up and relocating them to somewhere I couldn’t find, and then he had sat across from me at dinner that same evening and passed the salt and asked about Nathan’s grades and not flinched once. I had gone back to Harper’s apartment and found it empty. Cleaned out. Not a trace of them left except a note on the kitchen counter in handwriti

I watch from the kitchen, stirring sauce on the stove, wondering how the hell I got so lucky to have this tiny, chaotic ray of sunshine in my life. “So,” I say over dinner, “how was California?” Harper sighs dramatically, twirling her fork through her pasta. “Oh, you know. Fancy restaurants, ridiculous shopping trips, billionaires being billionaires.” I grin. “Sounds terrible.” “It was,” she says with mock seriousness. “I barely survived.” She pauses, her smile fading just slightly. “Actually, there was… one thing.” I set my fork down. “What happened?” She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, a sure sign she’s nervous. “Rafe’s teammate,” she says slowly. “Jeff McNaught.”

**Amelia's POV** The room seems to spin around me as I stood there with Nico's note clutched to my fist. “You could be mad at me, but please stay safe.” Safe from what? Safe from whom? Safe from himself? My head hurts. Everything is exhausting. The gorgeous expansive glass walls of the house felt chilly, like they are closing on me. I walk around the room, looking over every inch of the bedroom. Then my eyes settled on the ancient bookshelf next to the fireplace. It had something about it. That felt … wrong. It wasn't just inaccurate. It felt like, it was deliberately arranged.

I say to her and she lock eyes with me for a few seconds, and then she starts to write in her notebook again. My therapist, who name is Harriet knows I am an assassin. She found out after the first two sessions when I first started therapy. She is really calm about the fact that I murder people for a living, and she does not seem in a least bit afraid of me. Her skin is like smooth chocolate and her beauty is unmatched. She knows so much about me that I felt like I was responsible to know a few things about her too. So I did some background checking. She is married happily with two kids, and the youngest one is 19-year-old.

He didn’t interfere, didn’t speak—just stood there until our eyes met, then turned away as if satisfied. Another time, we crossed paths in the stables. I’d gone to see my mare, and he was leaning against the stall door, idly stroking the muzzle of one of the warhorses. The low rumble of his voice when he greeted me stayed with me long after he left. Each encounter was nothing on the surface—simple, almost forgettable moments. But each one carried that undercurrent, that dangerous pull I didn’t want to name. Three nights later, the fragile balance shattered.