Arno Dorian Novels & Stories

I groaned. “Annoying, isn’t it?” A voice said beside me. I glanced to my right, and a cute boy with black blush hair was staring at me with a curious expression. “What's annoying?” “The noise?” He answered like it was obvious. “Oh, yeah… super annoying… I didn't even realize we had this many students in this school.” “I did. I'm Dorian, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending his hand for me to shake. “Dorian? As in Dorian Gray?”

Alpha Orion didn’t seem affected in the slightest. He maintained his cold, indifferent expression before turning and walking away, while leaving Aurora standing alone as fresh tears streamed down her face. Her vision blurred, a sharp, crushing pain pounding in her head as her breaths came in shallow, uneven gasps. “Hey… are you alright?” The warm voice of Dorian broke through the haze as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder from behind. He had only stepped out to get some fresh air when he noticed her standing there, her posture slumped, her body trembling.

“Is that what you want, Tatiana?” I smiled, teeth just grazing his bottom lip. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He laughed softly and pulled me tighter against him. “Then it’s yours.” He didn’t know. Not yet. He didn’t know that his slaughter was opening a door. That I wasn’t seeking life, I was seeking return. One for revenge, for anger and anguish. But Dorian’s silence haunted me more than death ever could. And until he answered my call… I would keep using Giovanni’s hands to tear the veil apart.

Rylan caught my gaze across the clearing and gave a subtle nod. Dorian waited at the center, cloak unfastened at the neck, sword strapped across his back. He looked like a king about to issue judgment. And in a way, maybe he was. I joined him, heart pounding beneath my ribs. Then I looked up - at the storm rolling over the mountains, at the wolves who had come from distant territories to decide what side of history they’d stand on. “It’s time,” I said. Dorian gave a single nod. The guards brought Aron forward, slow and careful, unchained but shadowed closely. He didn’t stumble. He didn’t flinch. He met the eyes of every Alpha who dared to stare at him.

They quickly made an excuse and walked away. Dorian watched from the head of the table, observing them suspiciously. Ariana leaned over Antler’s shoulder, stealing a sip of his coffee, the smile constant. “I still don't know how you managed it, Ariana,” Dorian commented, leaning back with a rare, puzzled lift of his brow. “Antler isn't exactly the 'romantic' type.” Antler ignored it. “Oh, he’s a challenge,” Ariana pouted, giving Antler’s arm a playful squeeze. “He’s so cold, so composed, aren’t you, Antler?”

But that anchor was missing, and unease gnawed at me. He tilted his head slightly, still studying me, then glanced around the room once more. "He’s with someone else," Dorian said, his voice dropping to a serious tone. My chest tightened, and the words hit me like a cold gust of wind. "What do you mean? With someone else?" I asked, my voice steady but laced with an edge. Dorian sighed, his eyes softening as though he were reluctant to reveal more. "He's with Arianna. The slave girl." His words were blunt, and the bitterness in his tone was unmistakable.

POV: Araya Dorian steps fully into the clearing, his boots crunching on the snow. His eyes sweep over the group, lingering on Ronan and the sisters before settling on Araya. "Araya Varrow," Dorian says, drawing out her name like it's a joke. "Or should I say, the wolf-less reject who was supposed to die in the forest." Ronan growls, the sound low and dangerous. "Leave. Now." Dorian's gaze shifts to Ronan, and something flickers in his eyes. Fear, maybe. But he hides it quickly behind arrogance.

Yes, she could. “Who is he?” I already knew who he was but I wanted to know if she was going to tell me. His name was Andrew Douglas, aged thirty-two, once employed as a detective in Nevada. More recently he retired, having cashed out his pension and started looking for Charlotte. He would still have friends and connections. Blue was blue.

Dan snapped. “Leila, come on, we’re leaving.” Dominic held out his hand. As I reached for his hand, I saw a ripple run through Dan and his shoulders tense. Instinctively I jumped in front of Dominic as Dan threw a punch. The punch landed on the left side of my face and knocked me off my feet. As I was falling, I felt a strong grip around my body, it was Dominic catching me. I saw flashes of people run past us, it took me a second to realise it was security and they were tackling Dan to the ground. I watched as Dan was removed from the party. I looked up at Dominic as he steadied me on my feet. I reached to my cheek where it felt wet and removed my hand to see blood on my fingertips.

Her presence steels my nerves. We reach the clearing. The cave yawns open like a hungry mouth, and the enemy waits. Rogues. Dozens. No masks. No mercy. They form a living barricade around the cave mouth like sentries of hell. And Dorian stands among them. He looks different. Taller. Pale. Something… inhuman. “You’re late,” he drawls. “Touch him and you die,” I bark to my warriors. “He’s mine.” Dorian raises the perfume vial and sprays it across his neck like it’s cologne, not corruption.