Zane Books Novels & Stories

Zane was so scared that his body became tense all of a sudden. He thought that he had been discovered by Nikolai, so he quickly tried to find excuses. At the same time, he heard some soft cries. ....... ..... ........ Dear readers, please endeavor to drop a comment after every read. Also please click on the love sign at the top of the book details to add my book to your library so that you can continue to get an update.. Thank you so much for reading my book, Next update will come so soon.

Shirley was saying but she was interrupted by Zane. "Then who said anything about bathing with you? You are the one with the corrupt mind. I only accompanied you here so that you would not get lost because if you get lost this time around, you might have to walk for ten or more hours just to find me," Zane replied with a smirk then he continued, "since my job is done here, I will take my leave now." * * *

The latter said then disappeared. Zane left right after what happened in the library, she couldn’t bring the book with her since she knows it would be chaotic, and it is not a book that she should hold. Her plan is to find the original copy, if her parents are really Selena and Gavin, then she must be the only one who can find the book because when she held the one that Ferlin gave her, she felt the book refusing her touch, she really was not meant to hold anything except the one that was blessed by the moon goddess, Meiko herself.

A faint rustle of pages somewhere in the distance. Zane seemed completely absorbed in his books. Every now and then he’d underline his book. Everything about him seemed arranged… And there was his book—covered in hasty notes and crossed lines. Perfect and messy at the same time. It was… strange. Watching him. This was the first time we were alone somewhere that wasn’t his bedroom. Or the locker room or shower, where we have to act like we weren’t fucking. My eyes drifted back to my book, then back to him. Back to my book. Then back to him again.

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.

It was where I went when I needed to escape the noise of campus, the hockey team, Kendra’s endless commentary and, lately, one particular six-foot-three problem who seemed determined to occupy every corner of my thoughts. I sat at my usual table with my laptop open, three books spread around me and a half-finished cup of coffee beside my hand. I’d been staring at the same paragraph for the last five minutes, trying to convince myself that I was studying when I heard the chair opposite me scrape against the floor. I looked up. Zane dropped into the seat like he had every right to be there. I blinked. Then I looked at the book in his hand. Then back at him. “What are you doing here?”

Everyone in the community loves her, and they support her to fulfill her dreams at the University as a writer. But Mrs.Angus was not comfortable with the idea of Zena leaving the village for the city, although she has not given Zena a reason to start suspecting her of her selfish idea. Zena had overstayed at the market, waiting for the last customer to sell the few pieces of her black-eye pea fritters, but the day was already dark, a cylinder-like flame lamp that was stuck at the truck she uses to sell her fritter was what she uses to see in the dark.

Something in the process of evolving. Andrei hadn’t said much since that night. They passed each other in corridors, exchanged glances that lingered too long, but with them, words had become less necessary. The silence between them now carried weight. It still harboured resentment, but still carried respect. The weight of a dozen words left unspoken. Zane found himself in the library again with no fire this time, only the gray illumination of morning light. He pulled a book from the shelves something about the evolution of aristocratic dynasties. He didn’t care for the content. It was the weight of the book in his hands, the way knowledge felt like armor.

I started feeling feverish and lightheaded and just like that, I wasn’t hungry anymore. I needed air. I stepped outside, hoodie up, sleeves shoved halfway up my arms, letting the wind hit me like a slap. Crisp morning air. Sharp, clean, and instantly stabilizing me. Zane was leaning against the porch railing, arms crossed, face toward the woods like he was trying to keep himself from looking at me. His posture was all Alpha—tense, controlled, dangerous. I cleared my throat. “You wanted to see me?” He turned at the sound of my voice, eyes flicking toward me, and I swear, for half a second, they darkened. He immediately stepped into my space and sniffed me.

No matter how much time I spent with him, I would never get used to that side of his world. Slowly, I moved through the room, taking in the details. My fingers lightly brushed over the books as I passed the shelf. Business strategies. War history. Stoicism. Dark psychology. Art. Exactly the kind of books a man like Zane would read. As I walked to his desk, my eyes caught a small picture frame resting near the edge. I picked it up, bringing it closer to get a better look. It was an old photograph —worn at the edges but carefully preserved. A little boy, no older than four, held a tiny baby in his arms, his smile wide and filled with pure joy.