The Librarian of Souls

Ash Raven The Librarian of Souls Sins of The Flesh Copyright © 2023 by Ash Raven All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Ash Raven asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Ash Raven has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. Book cover designed with assets from freepik.com Map designed using Inkarnate First edition This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com To Maggie, my ultimate enabler “Man must be disciplined, for he is by nature raw and wild.” ― Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason Contents Within these pages… Founding and notable members 1. Augustine 2. Joanna 3. Joanna 4. Joanna 5. Augustine 6. Augustine 7. Joanna 8. Augustine 9. Joanna 10. Joanna 11. Augustine 12. Augustine 13. Joanna 14. Joanna 15. Joanna 16. Augustine 17. Augustine 18. Augustine 19. Joanna 20. Joanna 21. Joanna 22. Augustine 23. Joanna Epilogue Thank you for reading! About the Author Within these pages… Thank you for picking up the first book in my soft, dark Monster Romance series, Sins of The Flesh. This is an adult romance featuring a posh boogeyman and his human love. Please read through the warning below to prepare yourself, and know that this is not an exhaustive list. CONTENT WARNINGS: White coded characters, plus size female lead, blond moustachioed male lead, accidental mating, fuck or die situation, touch her and die, you touched her so you are dead, sand everywhere but make it romantic and sexy, spines and quills TRIGGER WARNINGS: Dubious consent (while both leads are very interested in one another, the dream state and lack of knowledge surrounding their initial coupling is a bit sketchy), blood/fluid play and consumption, age gap (immortal vs. 29), workplace bullying and gaslighting, poor mental health, confronting death, physical assault (on page), assault aftermath, parental death (historical), mention of foster care system, violence and gore (on page, graphic), gun violence, blood rituals (on page, semi-graphic), murder (on page), suicide by overdose (mentioned, historical), vomiting, implied homophobia for background character, discussion and descriptions around hunger, eating, and addiction that may be uncomfortable, humans as a food source SEX RELATED KINKS: Power exchange dynamic, consensual non-consent, chasing, collaring, pet play adjacent behaviours, ownership, worshipping, bondage, orgasm denial, aphrodisiac adjacent, monster genitals, oral sex, masturbation, p in v sex, minor ass play, spanking/impact play, sand play If you think a warning was missing here, please send me an email at [email protected] Founding and notable members Augustine Ravenscroft (he/they) Deg’Doriel ‘Father Doug’ (he/him) Ramón Lagarto (he/him) Orthia Moore (she/her) Kragnash ‘Nash’ Hawthorn (he/him) Nora Birch (she/her) Arlo O’Shea (he/it) 1 Augustine 2752 days The seventies were a disgusting era of interior design. The 1970s, that is. I am quite fond of the 1870s design choices. The grandeur of it all, how the decor could overwhelm the senses in such a deliciously satisfying way. Haughty socialites would gawk and squawk about the distance that piece had travelled or how much Lord Barrington had paid for that particularly risqué statue in his study. The era was rife with jealousy and greed and such glorious indulgence. They had their faults as well, but the Maximalist style is much better suited to my tastes. Yellowing linoleum and buzzing fluorescent lights do not, however, suit me. The parish centre basement for Our Lady of Mercy was last renovated in 1976 and truly, it shows. Orange, faux wood panelling lines one wall and against the adjacent is a faded, tobacco-stained wallpaper that used to be a garish floral design. The rest of the walls are cluttered with filing cabinets and children’s artwork of Christian iconography. Honestly, I can barely recall how this all used to look before that. The years have started to blur together. My age is catching up with me, slowing me down, and making me set in my ways. Centuries of existence weigh down upon my back as I slog through the monotony of living in this modern world. While everything is constantly changing, I remain the same because humans will always sleep, and they will always dream. It has made my existence stagnant and predictable. A human’s waking hours are when their emotions are the most deeply buried. You can only catch the slightest tang of their tempting feelings in the air as they scurry about. Even those who try to hide their emotions cannot, from my observant eye. The auras around them are dull. They could not even draw the eye away from a boring book. When they dream, they are fresh. Fear, anger, envy, lust. The scent of human emotions in the dream realm, in my realm, is like walking into a bakery after the first loaves of bread have been removed from the oven. Their auras overwhelm the senses, surround, encapsulate and vibrate with the very soul of their beings. But all I can smell and taste in