Arno Dorian Novels & Stories

_Dominic “What is it, spill it out,” I said impatiently. “Boss, we have company,” Vini said and we both got up from our respective chairs. The man I was with started to walk towards the back window and looked out. “I never got your name,” I said as soon as he turned and looked around. “Nikolai, but you can call me Nic,” he said, looking between me and Vini. Nikolai. He was Russian, but even as I searched in the hazy compartments of my brain, there was no Nikolai.

I don't know why people are drinking to relax when the water itself can make me relax in any situation. I looked outside through the window and saw Noah and Dario walking towards the car while Dario was trying hard to stop the girls from going near Noah. Finally, after a minute or ten, both of them successfully got into the car. Dario got in the driver's seat near me while Noah took the back seat. He didn't look at me until he adjusted himself and Dario started the car. From this itself, I knew that he'd ask the reason for my anger towards that…I don't even know what to call him now, Mr. Armani or Mr. Arrogant idiot.

she teased. “Good.” Jordan tilted her head, watching me too closely. “You sure you’re fine?” “Yeah.” I left before they could push more. The cabin was quiet. Too quiet. I stepped in, grateful for the silence, and then froze. The sound of water running. The bathroom door half open. And through the crack— I saw him. Father Dorian. Completely bare. Broad shoulders. Muscles carved from stone. Tattoos covering his arms, back, curling over his ribs. His hair damp, water sliding down his chest.

“It works exactly like mine. Did you get it from Elaria?” Dorian tilted his head slightly, his hood hiding most of his pale face. “Elaria? No. I bought it from a water sorcerer at Luminara Coast a few months ago. Young lad talked far too quickly for someone his age.” “A man?” I asked quickly. Dorian nodded once. “Yeah. Young sorcerer called Julian.” I let out a long breath. “Julian is Elaria’s younger brother. That explains why the weaving technique is identical.” Dorian merely hummed in response. The tension between us slowly eased, no longer as suffocating as it had been when I nearly strangled him in the pine forest.

Alpha Aleksandr of the Eastern Realm sat rigid beside him with rugged features, dark brown hair and amber eyes hard as flint with a pale scar nicking one brow as he tracked every move Orion made. At the far end of the table sat Chancellor Dawson, the lone human among Lycans. His thin fingers were clasped tightly together atop a stack of papers, his expression carefully composed. Yet, the faint tang of fear rolling off him was impossible to miss. Orion took his seat at the head of the table. "Let's begin." Caspian's smirk deepened. "You're late, Orion." Orion shot him a sidelong glance. "And yet, I'm still the one you waited for."

Farrah felt tickled so she burst out laughing. Ysa who's walking by saw this and felt so annoyed she huffed angrily, stomping on her feet. “Tsk!” Farrah laughed louder and felt triumphant. Farrah = 1, Ysa = -0. All her expressions fell on Dior's observant eyes. Dior looked at her with complicated emotions. Contrary to what Farrah was thinking, Dior can actually understand a lot of things at this moment. He understood that he had became a zombie, and Farrah sought him out in T City. He also remembered all the things that happened back in T City.

I couldn’t help but remember Donatello telling me that he believed that he saw him somewhere, and hearing what Sienna was telling me, I couldn’t help but believe that he was indeed using magic. Donatello was not the type to forget who a person was. If anything, he was almost always very accurate when it came to his memory of faces. It was one of the reasons why he was dangerous when angered. He was not a man to be messed with nor was he the type to allow random mistakes to just slide. If anything, he would be sure to make those who hurt him or his loved ones pay if he simply caught their scent.

It's telling me that there is something unusual about the auras these men emit. “ Yeah, it's her,” Santino voice is flat. He fixes me with a bored look. “ She must be brave if she thinks she can murder a dragon with a fork.” The rugged one laughs, and my eyes shoot back to him. He putts a large cigar to his lips, he takes a drag and the tip of glows orange as a thin plume of smock rises. He removes the cigar from his lips and puffs out some smock. The act makes him look so fucking sexy in all his muscle glory standing there.

His pink dress coat was a sharp and horrible contrast to the blue of his hair yet somehow the guy still found confidence in it. “The biggest threat in the lands, Alpha Darius Hart… the wind speaks of your strength, no?” Arnold said as we met halfway. His strong northern accent didn’t need extra introductions. He had to be the real Arnold of the North.