Zane Books Online Novels & Stories

I push my personal life aside and refocus. Cassandra and I spend another hour combing through more books, but we find nothing concrete. Disappointment settles in. I’m not sure there’s a reason to hope anymore. If there’s a cure for wolf blood, it’s well hidden, and I don’t know if we’ll ever find it. Feeling defeated, we leave the library and head back home. Zane’s back to full health and being my worst nightmare. I’m not sure what horrors await me as I return. At home, I head to my room for a quick shower. Afterward, I

Terrence took the books from Zane before he could stop him, annoyed as he looked at the titles. “All of these are relationship books,” Terrence said slowly, raising his eyebrow as he looked at the big one about how to romance a woman. “Yeah? So what?” Zane snapped and took the books back angrily. “I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Blake said, sounding a bit hurt. “I’m not,” Zane admitted. “Then why the books?” Marcus asked curiously. Zane wasn’t going to let his brothers make him feel foolish for buying self-help books. At least he knew he needed help. Terrence had been lucky to get a wife like Christine, and Blake and Marcus were too busy with work to care about anything except hookin

AMBER POV. (Pg 13) I stretch my arms across my body as we walk through the grassy field in front of our cabin. I feel completely drained. I argued with so many wolves today that my throat is sore. You would think they would accept my decisions as their Goddess, but mistrust was definitely evident today.

It happened so quickly that Zane could not understand whether this was the same Reyne who he was dominating until a few seconds ago. He sucked air into his lungs and slantly angled his head while his eyes sparkled with impression and a smile making its way on his lips. 'You still think she is weak, huh?' his wolf questioned. Tbc... (I know what you want to see... But i will show you what you wouldn't want to see lol *winks* Target: 13 comments. Lysm)

“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.

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.

Zane uttered, pouting his little mouth in anger. Zara sighs, crouching down to his size as she looks at the little boy who has a striking resemblance to her__Zane didn't take after his father. Instead, he looked like Zara, although his eyes were different. And unlike Zara's honey brown eyes, Zane had Sapphire blue eyes like his father. "Zane, you have to stay away from the bad man and woman(King Luther and Myla) or they'd hurt you. Please, Zane, listen to your mother," Zara pleaded.

The lodge's common area was a large room with a fireplace, bookshelves, and a long table where guests could spread out work. Zane was there. He sat alone at the table, surrounded by blueprints and printouts and a laptop with multiple tabs open. His hair was disheveled, he'd been running his hands through it. His reading glasses, the ones he only used when he was exhausted, were perched on his nose. He didn't see her at first. He was staring at a document, his lips moving slightly as he read, his brow furrowed. Nerissa stood in the doorway, watching.

Zane nodded, the matter closed, and finished his sandwich. * * * After lunch Zane found the gift shop with the instinct children have for gift shops regardless of how well concealed they are, and Marcus, without being asked and without looking at me for confirmation, said yes when Zane held up a book about deep sea creatures that was considerably more detailed than the one he already had. Zane said, "Thank you, Marcus," with the careful courtesy my mother had built into him, and then, after a moment, said, "Is it alright if I call you something else."

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.