Alastair Carstairs Novels & Stories

“Why didn’t you try escaping again instead of coming here to do his bidding.” “He is holding my daughter until the deed is done. Should I fail, he will give her to his men as well. She is only twelve, my lady.” I let him go and turned to Emrick. “Who is Alastair to you?” “He’s my father’s nephew, my cousin. He feels that my title should’ve gone to him after I killed my father since I was only sixteen at the time.” I turned back to the man. “What’s your time frame for killing us?”

The heavy glass doors swung open, and Sarah escorted their visitor into the room. Alistair Sterling was an incredibly handsome man in his late thirties, possessing the kind of effortless charm and confidence that only came from extreme wealth and high social standing. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored dark grey charcoal suit, a crisp white shirt, and a silk tie. He didn't have the stiff, cold attitude of a typical corporate tycoon. Instead, he walked into the room with a warm, easy smile that instantly made the space feel comfortable.

"Why them? Why you? I’ve heard the stories, Camilla. They say you’ve come back from death twice. And now, I find out you have not one, but two powers. So why you? Why were you chosen for something so... unnatural? But she wasn’t." His voice dipped as he spoke of her—the woman he loved, the one lost to him. His sorrow was palpable, and for a moment, my heart twisted with compassion. I looked back at the guards, signaling them to step aside. The tension was thick, but I couldn’t ignore his pain. "I’m sorry for your loss," I said quietly. "Don’t speak her name," Alastair growled, his body tensing as though the mention of her was a physical wound. But he didn’t make a move. He stood, still as a

Alistair himself was a ghostly presence—always there, watching from the shadows with an authority that felt untouchable. That morning, I stood before a massive floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the Vance Global building that loomed arrogantly in the distance. I was wrapped in a black silk robe Alistair had provided. The silk was exquisite, yet it felt heavy with the weight of the man who had given it to me. "Are you looking at what should have been yours?" The baritone voice vibrated from the doorway. Alistair walked in with measured strides. He wore a black shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a chronograph watch that likely cost more than a human life. In his hand, he car

But Salvador was trying hard to keep everything under his control, which only made things uncomfortable for everyone involved, including Barrett. After leaving the palace, Carissa headed straight for the Capital Guard's headquarters. Since it was her first day on duty, Michael and Max were already waiting for her there with their men. Fortunately, no one seemed to pay much attention to the bruise around her eye. Or if they did notice, they at least had the decency not to stare. The Royal Guard's commander, Alistair, hadn't arrived yet. Carissa knew who he was—Oliver's cousin. Their family had many sons, with Alistair being the most talented among them.

“Solid. Added sniper nests on the east wall. Your orders.” “Good.” I poured him a whisky. “Drink.” He took it. “Cheers. You look tense, cousin. The stabbing got you rattled?” I shot him a glare. “Rattled? Hardly. Pissed off. Someone breached my home.” “Our home,” he corrected mildly. “And stabbed your new pet project.” “He’s not a pet,” I snapped. Alastair raised a brow. “Isn’t he? You bought him. Threatened to return the child if he misbehaves. Sounds pet-like to me.”

“Your cousin Alaistair is the most venous. According to Alex, he is the puppet master and both the Basvecs and Asters are his puppets, although they aren’t aware and think that they are in mutually beneficial alliance, each secretly thinking, they have the upper hand.” “My backyard…” Cornelius muttered as he recalled the advice Old Drew had stayed back to pass on to him. Inadvertently, he turned to look at Mira as he remembered the dream Mira spoke of although they had all ridiculed her at that time.

"You know Volder has lived longer than any other creature, some of us are more than a few centuries old. Living that long can drive you crazy, Eleanor. That's why many Volders choose to commit suicide when their life isn't ... that interesting anymore. I investigated his background behind Alastair after he sent the video. No one knows how old he is, but more than four centuries I think." Over four hundred years? I remember the look he had when we first met that afternoon. His two gray eyes looked empty to me, maybe it was the effect of living for four hundred years? But why did he attack me? "Alastair just lost his wife 50 years ago." Greg looked at me without saying another word. I stared i

“As a father, it must be your greatest wish to marry off your daughter to a good man. Uncle Yorke had nothing at the time. It’s completely normal for you to be infuriated, King Quelch.” Alastair also chuckled and said, “Indeed, but I can also misjudge people sometimes. I did not expect that Carson could be such a good man. He deserves his current title of the Southern King. I heard from Heather that Carson’s accomplishments are largely thanks to you, is that right?” “We just complement each other,” Tyr replied with a laugh. At this point, Alastair became solemn without warning. He said, “Tyr, given Carson’s character, he will definitely support you now that your feud with the Capell royal fa