Arno Dorian Novels & Stories

Dorian who was at the edge of loosing it all got interrupted by the sudden noise coming just outside the school gates "Am going to check it out" He said and supersped outside just to meet the students fighting off some people who were trying to get into the school He widened his eyes in shock as an arrow pierced a student in the arm and she felt down holding her bleeding arm It was healing!! "The heralds hunters" Dorian muttered and supersped back to the office to inform the others "We are been attacked dad" Dorian said with anger in his voice "Attacked??by who?" Damon Salvatore asked him

Dorian glares at them one last time before falling back to his seat grudgingly. Just then, A new face strolls in, a jagged scar running from his head to the front of his neck. Drogo stirs faintly on the surface, the bloodthirst rolling off the scarred face manages to wake my wolf from his slumber. Dorian notices too, his shoulders tensing.

Eyes shifted to me, hungry for more drama than the decorations could offer. “A Luna should never behave like that.” Her face burned with shame. My heart leaped with satisfaction. She had used these same words on me once, and now they cut her instead. “You look pathetic. Just like your Luna,” Damon added with a cold stare before he released Dorian. The man dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, coughing as he clutched his throat. “Elara, what are you doing? Get up,” Dorian barked with a hoarse voice. Even on the ground, even after nearly dying, he still reached for his pride first. That was the real Dorian. A man who valued his ego more than anything.

Mara made a sound that was not a word. "I know," Aria said softly. At eleven, Dorian appeared at the door. He looked at his daughter in the winter white, and the silver sash and the two rings and his expression did the thing it always did when something was too full for the ordinary management of feelings, and Aria crossed the room and hugged him before he had to manage anything. "She is here," Dorian said into her hair. "I feel her this morning more than I have since the day she died."

--- Across the city, in a warehouse that smelled of rust and old blood, Dorian poured himself a glass of something dark and watched the sun rise through filthy windows. He was beautiful in the gray light—golden hair catching the faint illumination, amber eyes gleaming with something that might have been pleasure. He had waited a long time for this. Centuries, watching Alexander Volkan play at being human, pretend he was something other than the predator he'd been made to be. And now, finally, Alexander had given him the weapon he needed. The girl. He smiled, lifting his glass to the dawn. Luna Marchetti. Antonio's daughter. The last of the bloodline that had caused so much trouble for his ki

“Oh, Dolores really is an oriental woman, I knew that about her the first time I saw her.” “Wow, that’s literally a name Lucian would have flinched on hearing, he hasn’t adapted to the fact that many people can bear that time,” he said absentmindedly but Ava understood perfectly and finally decided to come clean, if she wants to get something for Dolores than Antonio is going to play a big part in it. He has known the woman since he was a child so he must know a lot. “Actually, Antonio, the person I am talking about is the person he would really flinch about hearing.”

“I was seventeen when she was diagnosed. They gave her two to three months, and at two she was gone.” I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his waist, placing a kiss against his skin. “Who are you, Domenico?” He was silent as he thought about what I was asking. “I’m la Bestia. I want to be a man for you, Ari, but I don’t know how. I’ve been the beast for so long, covered in the blood of Ferrante’s enemies, that I don’t know how to be anything else.” “There’s more to you than that,” I said. I had seen it firsthand, felt it.

direct. At the age of 500, Aranjo was ordered to always wear a veil, including when the little girl slept. Ara was sad, but she couldn't do anything. Ara is disappointed at the indifference of the night God who is Aranjo's biological father and grandfather, the Demon King.

I whisper to Dario as he unties me while my eyes are trained on the two fighting in front of us. “The enemy took our Queen; why wouldn’t I come?” “Ugh, Dario, I told you not to call me that,” I say, knowing this is not the time for pleasantries, especially since it looks like Dante has the upper hand. Then again, the man is a literal weapon now and built for killing. When I look again, Arman has knocked Dante to the ground with a punch to his head, pinning him and aiming his punches at Dante’s face. Dante twists himself and gets on top, dazing Arman with a blow to his temple.

The air smells heavily of whiskey, tobacco, fear, and blood. Ariadne's nose wrinkles as she tosses an arm over her face to filter it out. But even her father's favorite laundry detergent isn't enough to cancel it. Dorian walks in, pulling out stolen bills to exchange for chips. He turns back to Ariadne with a stern gaze. "You promised not to cry." Ariadne nods as if she'd ever cry in front of this person, ever. Dorian blinks a few times and then breaks character, kneeling in front of the Omega, holding her tight. "Go find him, Ariadne."