Alan Campbell Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

I can see other guards rushing towards Dorian’s room. Dorian is what you would call a lone wolf. He came to the institute about 15 years ago. We are about the same height, with a similar build. He’s a year younger than me. I remember the day he came. He was wild. His blond hair was long, and his face was ragged. His eyes are the oddest part of his appearance. They are the color of deep amber. Lycans usually have blue, gray, or silver-colored eyes. According to some information we were able to dig up, Dorian was part of some other research center, but they sent him to the Institute because they couldn’t handle him. Dorian is an alpha, which means he’s the only one who would be able to fight m

Callum winces from the impact, his frail spine can barely withstand the hit. “How did you know about this? Who else knows about this?” “I have my sources and no one knows about this.” The look in Dorian's eyes turn sinister as he sneers down at the frail elder before him. “Good. Which means I can kill you now and you get buried with my secret.” Callum's eyes widen, his heart pounding against his ribcage. Still he hold Dorian's gaze, keeping his fear from his face. “You won't.” Dorian raises his eyebrows, Callum's words and the boldness behind them catch him off guard.

At the same moment, on the opposite side of Valmere, Callum Braxton adjusted the cuffs of his jacket as he stepped into the velvet-lined interior of the private club where Dorian Kane had requested their meeting. The lighting was dim. Discretion was bought and bottled here. Callum didn’t like games. And Dorian Kane was nothing but games—covert investments, power moves cloaked in charm, deals sealed with a smile and a knife in the dark. Still, he’d agreed to come. He couldn’t ignore the whisper that Isla had somehow landed in Kane’s orbit. That alone was a threat—because Kane didn’t back women who waited. He backed women who conquered. He found Dorian already seated, sipping espresso with mad

"What the hell was that?" I swallowed hard. "What was what?" Callum’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t a fool. He had seen it. Felt it. The moment between me and Dorian. The way my body had responded to his presence, the way I had looked at him - like I had forgotten my place. Callum’s grip tightened. "You’re embarrassing me." I lowered my head, silent. That’s what he cared about. Not me. Never me. "Do you have any idea who that is?" he continued, his voice softer now - dangerous. "Dorian Kane doesn’t just show up at parties like this without a reason. If I can secure an alliance with him, do you think I’ll let you screw it up?"

Xander's harsh grip caused her to hiss in pain as she struggled to get out of his tight grip. She paled upon hearing the master's name, Carl. Her mind hurriedly pondered on what these two might have been up to while she was down in this dark prison. Her nails itched ragingly glaring at this man before her. “Your husband, Mr. Gray is slowly turning to who he was in the past. A serial killer and it is all thanks to you!” Alexander loosened his knotted tie and shifted it to the other side. He took a good stare at Kimberly whose eyes blinked severally.

However, my foot never reached him. A dark gray flare darted past my eyes, taking the rogue with it. It happened so quick that a normal pair of eyes would have missed it but mine didn’t. I followed the black thing as it whizzed to my left. It was a giant dark grey wolf. Alpha Dalton!

He tapped his fingers on the cabinet tensely and wished he had a pack of molborro lights between his finger, then he remembered that he was catholic. DAY 6 The day they visited Adulf Cains grave montoya moorman did not come. It was philbert alone, and the neighbors dog, bone, who had somewhat been a companion for the kid. Philbert moorman drove across the seemingly harmless patroits bridge thinking why people didn't stop to make life any more beziare. Bone barked when the car slowed at the cemetary, Campbell Wallace was there, digging a ditch or whatever the heck it was he was doing. Philbert moorman knew Campbell Wallace as the man who smelt like sin and who never changed his goth dressing.

She skipped her last class and went home, fingering herself in the shower while replaying every brutal thrust, every growl, the way his control had finally shattered. Professor Damon had called it a mistake. She knew better. Men like him didn’t break easily—but once they did, the fall was glorious. The following Monday, tension crackled in the air the moment Damon entered the lecture hall. His suit was impeccable, his expression cool and professional, but Alia noticed the subtle signs: the slight tightness in his jaw, the way his eyes avoided lingering on the front row where she sat again. “Today we continue with moral ambiguity,” he announced, voice steady. “Group discussions on Dorian Gray

Dorian looked up, his dark eyes shifting from me to Caspian, who was now standing beside me with his arms folded across his chest, radiating a strong intimidating aura. The atmosphere inside the cave changed instantly. Thick masculine tension filled the air — a clash of egos between a pure-blood Alpha wolf and a former elite tracker who’d once been paid to hunt him down. Caspian stared directly at Dorian, his voice heavy as he spoke. “Lulu said earlier that you know a lot about my brother. Including the attack on our pack.” Dorian nodded slowly, completely unfazed by Caspian’s sharp stare. “I was the one who sent that anonymous letter to Dylan Bloodworth. I warned him about Vane’s plan to ta

CULLEN’s POV The rain poured heavily. The dark clouds loomed above, seething with fury. I sipped my bittersweet coffee as the Death Note on my desk began to glow faintly. I reached out and took it in my hand. An unfamiliar name appeared, along with the details of death. “Clark Stephen Daniel,” I muttered with a sigh. “Your time has come. I’m coming to collect,” I whispered, my voice void of warmth. It was time to reap his soul. The details were clear—he would die tonight, inside a nightclub.