Zane Short Stories Novels & Stories

NICO A flicker of pain flashed over Zane’s face, and a sonorous howl as the pack lifted their voices to the sky in unison, brought chills to my bones. It was a howl of loss, of anger and a promise of revenge. Zane bent and picked up Anthony’s lifeless body, holding him close to his chest. “I’m taking him to our bedroom. We can’t leave him here outside.” His voice sounded calm as he went forward to the ruins of his home.

“I swear, being new must make you a magnet for idiots.” “No joke,” Zane said, appearing out of nowhere next to us with two cups full of some kind of cold liquid in her hands. She handed one to Kim. “I saw those ass-wipes eye-balling you just now too. Leave them and they’ll want to mate with you on the spot.” Kim groaned. “Oh joy.”

Lena's POV "You should know," Zane said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, "that secrets don’t stay buried in this house for long… especially when they’re in a pretty girl’s head." I froze. I hadn’t even shaken off the chill of Liam’s parting words “Now, you survive” and already another storm was rising. Zane stood just a few feet away, hands tucked casually in his pockets, a lazy smile on his lips like we were discussing the weather. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. There was danger there, tightly leashed. A warning wrapped in silk.

Austin asked feeling disappointed that the creature was not brought back to the warehouse for them to see. Zane on the other hand hated that he called his brother, one of his kind a creature. They were not creatures but living beings like them. “He is safe, now if you will excuse me, I must leave. Austin, I left something in my room at the resort. Keep it for me and I will come back for it one day.” Zane said then left. Austin could not wait to go back and see what it was Zane left. He hoped it was more gold. “This was a good gig and it paid well.” Said one of the assassins. “But?” asked the hacker as he could see that his colleague had more to say.

Then, towards the end, I was begging just so Gunner would give me a fucking break. “You had to, didn’t you?” Zane laughs. “You just made him more fucking crazy. All I’m going to hear now is, be a girl, be a fucking girl, over and over.” He’s correct, but I give up telling my body what to do. “Okay, sleep. We are back home tomorrow.” Dante walks out, with Gunner and Bear following. “Coming to cuddle?” I look at Zane, watching as he nods and strips. He climbs into bed with me, his arms wrapped around my body.

“I have a secret to share with you. This place isn't just perfect for lovers, it's where a discussion can be made without being overheard. “And that is?” I tried to act as neutrally as I could. I thought back to what Kael had said. Was he going to admit to killing those women around him? But for what reasons? What would justify him doing such a horrible thing to them? I didn't want to judge him without hearing his side of the story. “I'm infertile,” Zane said. His voice was flat and expressionless, blank. I, on the other hand, was startled. I couldn't hide my astonishment, and I wasn't expecting him to say such a thing.

Zane. Zane was the artist. He was the most dangerous-looking of the five. He had dark, messy hair and tattoos that covered his thick arms like snakes. He didn't care about suits or science. He cared about feelings, colors, and the raw beauty of the body. His studio was at the very end of the hall, and it was the only room that was always locked. That evening, the door was open.

At the moment of impact their heads were both out of the driver's side windows when they cracked together, leaving the unmarked cars to roll gently to a halt 200 yards apart. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

Zane As I sat with my personal cabinet, discussing the intricate details of our latest ventures, the atmosphere in the room was a mix of intensity and confidence. We had been working tirelessly to expand our influence, and the success of our operations depended heavily on precision and secrecy. My advisors, each an expert in their field, were laying out the plans with meticulous care. Just as my chief strategist, Lila, was about to present her latest analysis on our territorial gains, the door swung open with a force that silenced the room.

"I was seventeen, working in my father's restaurant. Grabbed a pan handle that had been sitting over an open flame." I could hear the weight behind those simple words, the history he wasn't sharing. "And?" I prompted, continuing to trace the raised skin with gentle fingers. His dark eyes met mine, something vulnerable flickering there before he shuttered it away. "And I learned that pain is temporary, but scars tell stories." His hand came up to cover mine, pressing my palm flat against the mark. "This one reminds me never to reach for something without thinking first." The honesty in his voice made my chest tighten. Here was a glimpse of the man beneath the polished exterior—someone who'd l