Alexander Hawthorne Novels & Stories

The next few days blurred into a delicate dance of temptation and restraint. Victoria knew she had to move slowly. Alex Hawthorne was not a man who could be rushed. He was principled, honorable to a fault — the kind of man who still set out fresh flowers on the dining table every Sunday and graded papers until midnight with classical music playing softly in the background. But she had seen the flicker in his eyes that first night. The hunger. She just needed to feed it until he couldn’t look away anymore.

Then he flips it over and says, "1910, wow. Where'd you get such an old picture of the house?" Trying to stay calm, my eyes jerk over to Brad, but he's already looking at me. We both know where it came from. Atticus. He's still here. *The End* Acknowledgements: To my betas: Paige Weaver, Sarah Phelps, Beth Rustenhaven, Stephenie Thomas, Laura Wilson, Vanessa Proehl, Tami Fairley, Chelcie Dacon and Tashia Brandenburg. Thank you for your honesty, your patience and your time. Your opinions were like gold and I am so grateful for each and every one of you.

He's taken off his sweater and shirt, axe in hand, and chopped away to make more firewood. "Russ... Are you ok?" I ask, hugging myself as I feel the cold wind and snow keep falling. His breath is staggered, and he keeps chopping away without a word. I'm not sure how much he's already cut, but he chops away as if slicing butter with a hot butter knife.

The way back home is a blur of streets, buildings, and anonymous faces. My feet move forward almost automatically while my mind remains trapped in that cold office, where everything seemed to transform into something I can’t name. Alexander Hawthorne. I knew he’d be intimidating. There’s no way a man with his reputation wouldn’t be. The ruthless magnate, the heir who built an empire with his own handsor at least that’s what they say. A man many would call untouchable, unapproachable.

I said with a grin. We couldn’t talk much after that because the teacher started class. We were continuing to read The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It’s a depressing book about a colonial woman who has a child out of wedlock, and is shunned. I don’t know why English teachers insist on having students read such depressing literature. Still, I heard one of the other classes was doing The Crucible by Arthur Miller. Somehow, Scarlet Letter seems less depressing than a bunch of girls faking possession. Maybe.

Max said coolly while leaning over my desk, “do you think that it was right for Hester Prynne to keep the father of her child a secret in the novel The Scarlet Letter?” Maximus’s dark eyes were pinned on me and I could see that little vein throb in his temple, the same way it did a few times that I had ever known him take something serious. I rested my elbows on my desk, threaded my fingers together and propped my chin on my hands.

I could only follow him. When he found a little wolf curled up in the snow, I was actually relieved a little. I said that Knox Hawthorne wasn’t a gentle person, but he was never a cruel one, either. It wouldn’t have surprised me so much if he merely ignored the Alpha’s order to save a life. But it wasn’t that simple.

" He asked sitting down behind his desk which was buried with paper work. In fact his entire office was kind of a pig sty. It was gross, and the blinds to his windows were open about halfway which let in some sunlight which showed off the cigarette smoke that floated around is office. "Sorry about the mess and smell dear, working in an asylum isn't an easy job, nor is running one." I waved it off as if I wasn't even bothered by it when I actually was. "I understand Mr. Baxter." I said with a warm smile. "You have any experience?" He asked not looking at me much. "Well I have worked for my neighbors in my apartment cleaning and cooking for the elderly when they needed it or young mothers who

Hutton's POV Today was a sad one for me. I was just so angry after what I found out today in school. It was a painful one, and it hurt more to know clearly that there was just nothing I could do. Xander is just a devil reincarnated, a cold-hearted and ruthless boy who I wish I could kill. I badly wish I could slit his throat and hang him in the middle of the market. I hate him with all my heart and soul, but then it would only be in my heart. The hatred would be there while I watched him do whatever he liked with anyone he wanted to do with.

Lennix could almost pass for a Berserker with his broad muscular build, pale blue eyes and shaggy blonde hair. “Thank you.” I smiled at him and headed down the hallway towards his office, General Abtez following behind. I knocked at the door and waited. “Come in.” I heard Alpha Rawlins say. I opened the door and walked over to his desk. Stopping to stand in front of it. “Morning Alpha Rawlins.” “Morning, what brings you here so early?” he asked, smiling at me.