Alan Campbell Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

The corrupted bond still throbs from the corridor encounter, a constant reminder of her proximity. "Alpha Draven." I turn. Dorian Cross approaches with that easy, aristocratic grace that always puts me on edge. Everything about him is controlled. Refined. Too perfect to be trustworthy. "Walk with me," he says pleasantly. It's not a request. We move to a private alcove off the main hall. Dorian's pleasant expression doesn't falter, but his eyes are cold and calculating. "That was quite a performance," he says. "Which part?" "The Moonshadow tearing apart everything we've built." He studies me. "You seemed... distracted during the session."

everything. But when I pushed open the heavy oak door, the scent wasn't lavender. It was smoke. I choked for my own breath, my heart pounding so hard. What in the world was going on? Who could have done this? Scanning around, I saw a small, blackened pile lying in the centre of the floor. My sketches, the ones I’d drawn before I met Roman, were curled into grey ash. My degree was a charred remains of parchment. And the lavender? It was scattered, crushed into the floorboards by a heavy, deliberate boot.

“So you are Aleister Black?” Damontry said deeply. "Gerald and Lorraine's offspring, I've been waiting for you so long." A man with a barren smile and two flames surrounded him echoed in a deep tone. Damontry looked around before stopping at the man sitting in front of her, in his hand was a silver cup, the stench of blood seizing her from the inside. "I can't say the same, Aleister Black... I must say you disappointed me." She spoke normally, taking a seat in front of her, moving her short locks, while her dark eyes showed no emotion.

"Don't look so angry, Basil. It was at my aunt, Lady Agatha's. She told me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help her in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to state that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no appreciation of good looks; at least, good women have not. She said that he was very earnest and had a beautiful nature. I at once pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank hair, horribly freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was your friend." "I am very glad you didn't, Harry." "Why?" "I don't want you to meet him." "You don't want me to meet him?" "No." "Mr. Dorian Gray is in the stu

He smiles, “I don’t want to scare you off, Alice. I just wanted to convince you that I was there, I was the one that saved you and not the other way around. I would never hurt—“ I cut him off, “—it’s okay. I understand and I’m not scared. I just want to know more,” “Of course. You can ask me anything and I’ll be truthful,” “How old are you, Damon?” Damon is no way more than his early 30s. The way he carries himself, the way he dresses and the way he speaks, it wouldn’t cause any suspicion. However, there is just something in his gaze. As if he has been through years or even centuries as the world folds into a different era. He moves slower, he takes his time in the words he speaks. I am conf

I turn around ready to look for another escape route, only to see the driver slinking out from the forestry, a crazed smile playing on his lips. “This can’t be possible,” I whisper. He shrugs. “You’re a smart cookie aren’t you with that little trick of yours? But unfortunately,” he snaps his fingers, and this ignites a flame into the palm of his hand. The combustion dances to the rapid beat of my heart, while the smoke that leaves it is dark and misty, almost sickly as it soars into the sky. “I should probably introduce myself don’t you think? I’m Dorian, and I’m no ordinary werewolf,” his head tilts maliciously, watching me with trained eyes. “I really don’t want to do this Tanya… I hate th

Grayson would gladly expose that I was friendly with one of the deadliest vampires. We were all seated in the living room and by we, I meant Dahlia, Caleb, Tamara, Aiden and myself. My eyes studied Dahlia's appearance. She looked paler than usual, the fireplace making her gray eyes appear luminescent. Her gray hair cascaded down her shoulders and she was wearing a loose black apparel; the dress a large contrast from her skin and hair color. She looked old and I could literally feel the age humming in her bones, like some form of energy.

She was his destruction, wasn’t she? A scream ripped out of her mouth and then everything turned black. ~~~~~~ Dorian drove to the packhouse where he knew his grandfather would be currently. Without acknowledging a single greeting he raced upstairs and made a beeline for the office. “This is a surprise.” Alexander hadn’t expected his grandson’s visit the morning after the meeting with the Elders. However, his grandson’s eyebrows were drawn into an angry worried line, his lips downturned as he closed the door behind him and just stood there, staring at nothing and everything. He hadn’t seemed to register Alexander’s sarcastic greeting and this slightly worried the old man.

he murmured. Elias took a moment. “No. But I think we learn how to carry it without breaking.” Lucas didn’t answer. He just nodded. Because that felt true. The silence between them was comfortable until a voice cut through the trees. “Well, aren’t you two just a damn painting.” They both jumped. Elias was already on his feet, tense. A figure stepped from the shadows, hands raised. It was Dorian. But he wasn’t the Dorian they’d last faced no sleek suit, no slicked-back hair. This version was thinner, hollowed out by whatever price he'd paid for the choices he'd made.

Caleb shoots them a big smile, and I am eternally grateful to my mate for pulling me out of my state of shock. Dorian grunts at Caleb’s words, sneering up at our home. “It is Alpha Dorian if you did not know, and I am only here because my mate wanted to come.” Dorian practically snarls at the word mate. I cannot believe that this was the blonde tall gentleman that came so long ago to claim Scarlet. Back then I thought that Dorian looked like a knight in a fairy tale, now he appears to be nothing more than a villain.