T'was A Silent Night: An Urban Winter Paranormal


 
 
 
 T’was A Silent Night
 
 
 An Urban Winter Paranormal Romance
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 By Natavia
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 During the last ice age different tribes practiced shape shifting rituals to become apex predators that could withstand the freezing temperatures and to hunt in deep snow. Not every ritual was successful because many humans were weak and had fallen sick due to the cold weather and scarce food. Therefore, each tribe began choosing their strongest and healthiest warrior to sacrifice their human soul to become immortal. Once the ritual was a success the warrior would become the leader of his tribe. As time passed, immortal offspring were creating a bloodline of their own. Eventually as the world began to evolve outside of their realm, Arthedal, the shape shifters blended in with human mankind.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Copyright © 2023 by Natavia. Published by SOUL Publications. All rights
 
 
 reserved
 
 
 
 
 www.soulauthors.com
 
 .
 This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales or, is entirely coincidental. No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writer permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Neve
 
 
 
 
 December 20th 2020…
 
 
 
 
 
 “
 H
 ow many times do I have to pose like this?” the model asked.
 
 
 
 
 
 “We’ve been doing this for two hours, Ukma! Can you please do it correctly! You look dead in these pictures. This is a professional photo shoot, not a mortuary!” I replied.
 
 
 
 
 
 “Oh, puh-leaseeee with your dramatics. I’m drop-dead gorgeous, you get it?” she laughed.
 
 
 
 
 
 This bitch thinks because she’s fucking the CEO, she can do what she wants.
 
 
 
 
 
 I was a professional photographer for a company called Montaga. Montaga, was a black-owned popular fashion brand that sold shoes, accessories, clothes, and handbags. Personally, I thought their brand was extremely expensive considering I was a bargain shopper. Nonetheless, my job paid well even though I hated it.
 
 
 The models were rude as hell, especially Ukma. She was a spoiled and entitled brat because she was popular. I had to admit though, she was a beautiful woman. She was tall, standing at six-foot-one with a slim, and lean but shapely physique. Her skin was the color of nutmeg, and her long locs with auburn tips stopped past her hips—she had exquisite features. She was wearing a skintight, long-sleeve zebra print turtleneck dress and red ostrich feather heels. Her hair was pulled into a high pineapple-style ponytail which showcased her slanted cat-like eyes.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Ukma struck another pose, with her hand resting on her cocked hip. I snapped the photo anyway, even though I didn’t like it. The studio door opened; the CEO of Montaga Wear walked in. It seemed everything moved in slow motion whenever he graced the room with his presence. Yeti Montaga was a twenty-six-year-old bachelor and there was a long line of women waiting to get a taste of him. I couldn’t necessarily blame their thirst because he was indeed a fine-ass man. He had the height of a basketball player, standing at six-foot-nine. His long jet-black locs with gray tips hung past his shoulders. He took off his shades, revealing a set of chilling slanted light gray eyes with a tint of blue. His deep and dark chocolate skin looked like silk. He also had high cheekbones and a strong masculine jawline. I almost dropped my camera when we locked eyes; he was that gorgeous. He was wearing a simple outfit which consisted of black jeans, Timbs, and a black v-neck sweater. The diamonds in his leopard medallion shined underneath the ceiling lights that reminded me of the northern lights. His cologne caused a spill in my panties and my clit throbbed as I imagined him doing ungodly things to me. I tried my hardest not to fall in the same category as the other women who lusted after him, but his alpha male presence was contagious.
 
 
 
 
 
 “Your photographer is giving me a hard time, Yeti. I have been here for hours! I have a flight to catch soon and she’s holding me up. She needs to do her job and stop acting like she runs the company!” Ukma complained, and the other models agreed.
 
 
 
 
 
 BITCH!
 
 
 
 
 
 “You were posing like you were taking a jail house picture! It was unprofessional, and you didn’t put any effort into it!” I shouted back.
 
 
 
 
 
 “Do you see that, Yeti? Do you see how she talks to