Your Wish Is My Command Book Novels & Stories

My eyelids were getting heavier; I could feel my body floating in the air. The darkness has enveloped the entire place where I was floating. I can feel it even though my eyes are closed—a moment later, a white light bursts out from several gaps. I want to open my eyes, but I still can't feel like my eyes have been stuck on a piece of duct tape. My hands don't even have the strength to move. “Make a wish, Kanya.” That voice. A voice that made my body tremble hard, a voice that made me feel my body again. This time I was trying to open my eyes slowly by forcing my eyelids to lift.

I whisper in his ear, my breath tickling him making a shiver run down his spine. “Your wish is my command,” Hunter's voice comes out, making my heart beat faster.

I make it short, and he looks at me through narrowed eyes, confused, but I decide not to explain my crazy interaction with whoever that was, but do what I brought him here to do, and take the checkbook from my bag. “Tell me your name, please,” I request as I fill in the other fields, including the amount. “Why?” He asks suspiciously, making me smile. “Because I want to make your second biggest wish come true,” I answer as I look at him expectantly, and he opens his mouth, then closes it, not sure if he should talk, or if he can. “J-James Wilson.” He stutters in a shaky voice, probably realizing what I’m doing, and after I finish, I rip the check and give it to him.

“COMMANDMENTS.” With the words and the scarlet light blood that traces the words in the air, and from the book that’s chapter completion is at its wing and in its utmost very end and near. She smiles in a sinister way as her ingenious mind is spinning and loving the new puzzle she is gifted with, with its sheer dread that her very heart and body are in trill about, she giggles as the words form the distinct clues she utters with authority. Where it goes with this following hunting title, “The Truth. The Loyal. The Obedience, The Wise.”

The more Chris tried to say no, the more eager Mary was—she even shoved me and said, "Just say you don't mind, old-timer." I scowled as I growled the words, "I do mind." Mary's face darkened right then. "Chris is my best friend! You're getting jealous over that?! I told you not to come, but you insisted—and now you're being a buzzkill! Just look, you're souring everyone's companionship! Everyone's so uncomfortable!"

"I know." "Can you—" "Yes." Two months ago I used the command like a door blown off its hinges — everything at once, everywhere, uncontrolled. It leveled the immediate threat and leveled me with it. Queen Alara spent three weeks teaching me through a phone that the command is not a weapon. It is a language. And like any language it has register. Volume. Nuance. I do not push. I speak. Specifically. Precisely. To the twelve wolves converging on our position from the east corridor. Not a shout. A whisper that lands inside their skulls with the authority of three hundred years of royal bloodline behind it.

I revealed. I turned back to the one and activated my Executive Command. This was my most dangerous ability. It worked with a single-word command that bypassed the conscious mind of my target and goes straight into their brain. “Explode.”

And those memories now belonged to ghosts. Had that ever been real? Had I ever truly known him? I exhaled. The answer didn’t matter anymore. Inhaling deeply, I steadied myself and stepped forward, resolute. "You want your wish?" I asked, voice like ice. “You want to make your niece and sister’s life better?” I lifted the stone, the power pulsing through my fingertips. “Then take it.” I stepped forward, pressing the stone into his trembling hands. “Wish for what remains of the Chernoye Nebo Pack to perish within the next hour.”

I’ve never had anybody speak to me like that, as if I’m worth something, not after Dad. “I—” Hesitation makes me close my mouth. “There are probably things happening around you that you can’t quite understand.” My hand tightens in a fist, recalling my strange strength and my over-the-top healing, “I don’t know what you me—” “We can help you understand,” Director Yearwood cuts me off. “But for that, you have to give yourself time and you have to trust us.” She’s being quite vague and it’s obvious, but her tone is sincere. I find it hard to muster up my usual distrust around her.

Nothing could ever compare to this. “Anyone ever tell you that you taste like cherries, Red?” Bo’s words are heavy as he breathes against my skin, sending a shiver through my body straight into my core. The ache between my legs is too much. How do people not live like this? Wrapped in each other’s embrace twenty four seven. I never want to feel anything beside the pure unadulterated bliss that is coursing through my body right now.