Arbors On Duke Reviews Novels & Stories

"Do we have ibuprofen, Dad?" "For you, young lady, no." Amor sternly said to Amelia. "You better learn your lesson from drinking too much. You look like a waste when you guys returned last night. Letting you out to play in some club is a bad idea." "Mom, I'm dying from headache here, please don't scold me too much," Amelia complains. "Just take a cup of coffee, it will be gone," Andrew answers, while still looking at the papers he's studying. "Besides, you know that we don't store medicines: we use natural medicine and herbs."

Soren I watch from the front porch of the Duke's home as cars speed out of the forest and make their way into the clearing, barreling towards the Duke’s home. My arms remain crossed over my chest, impatience flooding throughout the entirety of my body. I raise an eyebrow and watch as the car skid across the damp grass beneath their tires, almost spinning out of control.

The next morning broke cold and too early. Mist crept along the grass like pale smoke, curling around boots and wheels as the camp stirred awake. Armor clanked. Horses snorted. But the quiet wasn’t because of the usual dawn discipline. It was because everyone could feel the shift. We weren’t moving deeper into the rift today. Abby had made her choice. I stood just outside the command tent, arms folded, watching as she spoke quietly with Duke Alaric. Her red cloak shifted in the wind—storm-colored embroidery along the hem flickering like lightning frozen in silk.

"I am the Duke." "You?" For one long moment, utter bewilderment was writ large across her delightful countenance. For the life of her, Margaret could not use her surprise. How could this man, of all men, be the Duke? Aside from he fact he was far too young to have been a crony if her father's, the gentleman before her was unquestionably a rake. And a rake of the first order, to boot. Whether the dark-browned, harsh-featured face wig its aquiline nose and firm mouth and chin or the lazy assurance with which he had entered the room had contributed to her reading of his character, she could not have said. But the calmly arrogant way his intensely blue eyes had roved from the top of her curls al

‘H-h-her b-belly’ her voice, though in a low whisper, echoed lightly through the already deserted walls of the manor, which was now lighted by the eerie shadows the blood moon that had appeared in the sky, towering over the manor cast in the house. As if waiting to witness the birth of the monster. Somehow, words had made rounds in the manor amongst every servant and soldier about the mysterious birth, and on the same night, the blood moon appeared after so many years. It didn’t help that The Duke was also found dead not long after dinner in the store room, hanging from the rafters with his eyes popping out of his tiny head. Everyone had silently disappeared. Each returned to his own home in

Emma was giggling at the side, and the loud voice of Master Jin was also inviting laughter. But the Duke didn't mind it, he even liked to hear the soft voice of his woman. If she were to be entertained, then it didn't matter. He can even give her more entertainment if she wants. "Then you will like this," the Duke launched another attack, this time it was ice. Numerous ice arrows came forward to attack the fairy. Allen with his high speed only needed to jump from side to side avoiding the many arrows being thrown at his feet. However, they were moving as if targeting him and had life on their own.

The other man in the chamber, the Duke, shifted. Victor’s eyes found him next. And froze. Tall. Cold. Perfect. Wrapped in black and silver military garb, broad-shouldered, gloved hands folded behind his back. Duke Aaron of Thornveil looked carved from moonlight, silver hair, high cheekbones, sharp eyes as pale as storm glass. He wasn’t just Victor’s type. He was the type. The one Victor only hired in fantasy. The one he’d never have the balls to approach. And right now, he was standing there… glaring down at him.

Based on his profile photos and status updates, it seems Duke spends most of his free time either at his favorite watering hole bar, or fishing. Even Mary Sue admits at this point that I ended up picking the better of the two cousins. Duke is still nowhere near the kinda guy I would approach, even for just a palette cleanser, if I had a choice in the matter. But if I can’t saddle up with hunky Bill the masseuse, and have to choose from any of the Anderson men, Duke’s definitely the pick of the litter. “So, next question,” Mary Sue proceeds after we are done comparing notes, “do we go about nabbing these two boys subtly and take our time getting to know them, or–”

Dean cleared his throat loudly and Darius sniffed. I didn't know what to think of that reaction. "Is it... Perhaps it's too much, let me go and change." "No!" Darius barked. His lips curved into a soft smile. "It's... It's nice, it's not too much. It's just so..." "Beautiful." We all turned to stare at Duke whose eyes still remained fixed on me. He smiled softly, his beautiful brown eyes glowing like balls filled with magic. "You look so beautiful."

Duke’s name flashed on the screen. Ryder sighed, grabbing it. “Yeah?” I couldn’t hear the other end, but Ryder’s jaw tightened. “Got it,” he said finally, and hung up. “What happened?” I asked. “Nothing bad,” he said, though his voice was flat. “Just a lead on Marcus’s last contact. Duke wants me down at the yard.” He reached for his jacket. “Be careful,” I said softly. “Always.” He gave me that signature smirk. “You just make sure to eat breakfast."