Zane Book Novels & Stories

What was the point in having survived so much if she didn’t move forward? “I’d like to stay with you,” she confessed shyly. He smiled, hands sliding from her cheeks to her shoulders. “Good,” he said. “I’ll give you the dime tour of our suite.” ~ Zane hadn’t gone inside after he left the garage. His feelings were too intense, and he’d needed air. He’d strode stiff-legged and stiff-cocked to their lagoon, a small manmade lake he and Trey sometimes rowed out on. The reeds at the edge were tall, the water wavery with moonlight. Zane calmed a bit as he stared at it.

He picked a table close to the wall. He’s ready to call Cela on the phone when he realized she’s already there. “Go ahead. It’s about a book right?” Cela said to Noah. “Yes. I want to dedicate a book for my late fiancée and our unborn daughter,” he said. Cela was moved instantly. She finds herself wanting to know all about them. “She passed away while giving birth to our first child but both of them didn’t survive,” he continued. Nate watches Cela from where he sits. It’s been many years since he last saw her and although he knows her feature by heart, he can tell that she’s improved so much over the years. She looks so much happier and healthier now than before.

The web was too tangled. Zane’s gaze lingered on mine for a moment longer than it should have. He was waiting for me to speak. I didn’t say anything after a while, so he nodded stiffly. He took a last look at the papers peeking out from my pillow. “Have a good night, Ms. Ibe.” And then he walked away. ##

I wanted nothing more than to shed the weight of the summit like a second skin, to leave the dragon lords and their endless demands somewhere far behind me. I pushed the heavy oak door open, stepped inside, and immediately stopped. Zane lay passed out cold on the dark grey velvet couch in the middle of the sitting room. He was fully dressed in his heavy coat, dark trousers, and riding boots, one leg dangling awkwardly off the edge of the cushion as though he'd collapsed mid-sentence. A half-empty glass of sweet water sat on the low table beside him, next to an unread leather scroll, its wax seal still intact. Even the candles nearby had burned low, wax pooling onto the brass holders, as if t

“I was just hurrying so as to catch up with someone I missed less than a minute ago and I didn't see you. My name is Wade. What's yours?” All things being normal, Max would have remained silent. He wasn't in the school for acquaintances, friends or any of such. He was there to conquer, dominate and rule the other students and he had done a bit a of that by finding the path that led to the hostel but there was something about Wade he couldn't just ignore. “My name is Max. Max Girard,” he added so that whoever this Wade was, he knew who he was dealing with. “Girard?” Wade asked, raising his eyebrows so high they almost touched his hair.

Well, Zane just tagged along with a mutual buddy of Booker's pack. Zane knows his small status is punching way above his weight class, but his skin stays as cool as a valley cucumber even when he realizes my mouth isn't drinking with him. With a wide grin that never wavers, his voice says, “My name is Zane; I am the current general manager over at the Newsom Pack's trading house. My heart has been looking forward to meeting your face, Alpha Blackmoor. Figured my paws would take a shot and introduce my name today—here is my pack card.” Zane, taking a huge gulp of nervous courage, fishes out his small business card and extends it straight toward my fingers. My eyes glance down at the paper, bu

NANCY'S POV I was very aware that Zade was likely watching this. Watching me read something that was clearly affecting me. Part of me should probably be embarrassed. The other part—the part that had woken up this morning—found it thrilling. I kept turning the pages, slower now, letting the words sink in like warm honey dripping down my spine. The bodyguard had the heroine pinned against the heavy oak desk in his office, one big hand fisted in her hair, the other yanking her skirt up around her waist. No time for panties—he just hooked them aside with two thick fingers and thrust into her in one brutal stroke. The book described it so raw: the wet slap of skin, her choked gasp, the way her na

What kind of pain made a man like Zane need pills to sleep. What kind of past made the revered Alpha beg for his mother in his dreams. And for the first time… I realized something terrifying. Zane may not even be a monster we all think of him to be. He might just be a wounded man. And that is even more dangerous.

Zane voiced and I felt hollowed out. “Don't patronise me, Zane!” But Zane headed straight for the shelves, arranging some old ledgers with meticulous fingers. Then he took one from the shelf, turned a page and put it back. I clenched my fists by my sides. "Pay attention to me," I ordered, taking a step closer. Zane ignored me completely. He took another book and inspected its cover before bringing it over to the large drawer in the desk. He put the books into the drawer and closed it with a push of his hip.

In the past, Zane had been blind—she had memorized his features but never experienced him seeing her. Today, their eyes had met. But she reminded herself—it had been nothing. Just a cold, blank stare for a stranger. Because in reality, he couldn’t have recognized her. Zane didn’t know what Jay looked like. — “I want the information on that mother and child within thirty minutes,” Zane instructed Ryan as soon as the elevator doors closed. Ryan was surprised at the sudden command. When he looked at his boss, he was taken aback by the rare flicker of emotion on his face.