Anthony Black Crying Novels & Stories

So she rang the only person she knew who might help her, ‘Trina? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again’ Anthony’s voice was so happy and cheerful she had to fight not to cry, ‘Hi Anthony’ Her voice was small and full of tears, ‘It’s good to hear your voice’ He knew as soon as he had realised it was her that something was wrong, ‘Okay, beautiful this is not a random call is it?’ A soft sob escaped her lips, ‘No, I’m so sorry Anthony but there is no one else’

"He's gonna make us go back with him" I say beginning to cry, but Blake holds me tightly. "He's never getting anywhere near you ever again" he whispers looking over at Anthony, I finally turn seeing a really injured Anthony stood there "you need to leave, you aren't getting anywhere near any of the girls again" Blake shouts, causing Anthony to look directly at us, I bury my face into Blake's arm as soon as he does. "And who the fuck are you?" Anthony asks, I could tell by his voice he was getting angry and that's where trouble starts.

Michaels Pov I turned to see Anthony with most serious look I had seen on him so far "Or you pretend to be our mate, Elena Wolfe," Anthony’s cold, taunting voice cut through the air. I observed the visible fear coursing through Elena, her face was drained in shock and eyes were filled with fear. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she clung to herself, seeking solace in her own embrace. It was sad to see but I knew the drama was just unfolding and I was in the front row to watch and had a opportunity to participate at anytime.

His eyes were focused on my neck, his mouth drooling like he had seen something delicious. “Sister Emily…” Momo’s cries resonated in my ears. I tried to tilt my head in search of him, but Anderson had pinned my neck to the ground, leaving me in despair. Boom! I could barely see the dark clouds above me, the wails and cries around me fading as blood became insufficient to keep me awake. “Sister Emily…” Tears dripped onto my face, keeping me awake for a little bit. Momo’s image came into play, tears rolling down his eyes.

They had been waiting for him to awake when a nurse come to examine him only for her to declare to their utter disbelief that she was sorry they had lost their loved one. Her eyes misted over and she felt a tear slide down her. Then another followed from the other eye and another and another. They were tears of wrenching agony. A sob escaped from her throat, drawing her mother’s attention. The mother had seen the wounded look on Becky’s face and had tried without much success to console her. “Stop crying,” she had said. “I know how this is hurting but you can’t keep crying like this.”

She was uncontrollable looking at the monitor with a labored breath. Anthony hugged her, turning her around thereby covering her eyes from witnessing the sin. Celeste’s cries were uncontrollable and muffled into his chest. Her hands fisted his crisply ironed green shirt in perturbation as if it would take away her pain. Anthony shook his head silently asking her not to cry. A low grumble escaped his throat as he cleaned her tears with the pad of his thumb. Her pain caused him the biggest unrest which is the sole reason why he kept her away from her dad’s dark heart.

He didn’t deserve me anyway. As I neared the altar, I finally let myself look up. And forgot how to breathe. Nate Blackthorne stood waiting. Tall, easily six-four. Broad shoulders that stretched his black suit. Dark hair swept back from a face that could have been carved from stone. Sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. A mouth that looked like it rarely smiled. He looked like death personified. Beautiful and terrible. But it was his eyes that made my steps falter. Pale blue, like winter frost and was fixed entirely on me.

“You think this is over? You’ve only broken the lock. The thing beneath the Black Moon stirs, child. And it remembers your name.” Kaelira’s blood ran cold. “No,” she whispered. “The Echo was the last of it. I destroyed it.” “You destroyed its shell,” Varyn said. “But its heart — the true Black Moon — was never in this world to begin with. It’s waiting. And it’s calling you home.” Zevran stepped forward. “Then we’ll burn your god a second time.” Varyn’s expression softened, almost pitying. “You can’t fight the storm, boy. You can only drown in it.”

The person before him suddenly changed expression, her hand trembling on the doorknob. After a long moment, he heard her say: "No." The girl who had always been cold toward him became emotional, her eyes reddening: "What does Mr. Blackwood want to hear?" "About how she struggled alone through the pain of her illness—" "About how when she died, she was completely alone except for a cat by her side—" "Or about how she died in unbearable agony, tortured by pain until she was barely recognizable?"

She was still working on that when she heard the sound beside her. It was quiet. She almost missed it under the crowd noise and the announcer and the music the arena had started playing over the speaker system. A small, contained sound. The kind a person makes when something breaks through a wall they have spent years building. She turned. Anthony was standing beside her on the podium with his head slightly down and his jaw tight and his eyes wet. She had never seen Anthony Vale cry. She did not think, until this moment, that she ever would. He was not making a production of it. He was doing what he did with everything, containing it, managing it, keeping it as small as possible. But his eye