Arno Victor Dorian Novels & Stories

Their nails lengthened into claws, scraping the sticks they gripped. Gasps rippled through the closer seats, but the crowd kept cheering, thinking it was just adrenaline, just the heat of the game. But on the ice, both knew the truth. The wolves had taken over this fight. Dorian’s speed was unreal. The drink he’d taken pumped through him, fueling his muscles. He struck Lanvin again, slamming him against the boards. Lanvin’s shoulder throbbed. His ribs ached. The scoreboard shifted again. Dorian scored. Then again. And again.

he asked, a strange glint in his eyes. "What?" My stomach lurched. "Viktor Donovan," he said, extending his hand. "Ariana Watson, I presume?" My jaw dropped, then snapped shut. This was just great. The annoying guy had a name. And apparently, he was the "Viktor Donovan". I sighed, completely lost for words. What had I gotten myself into? could I work with such an annoying narcissist man?, I plastered a hopeful smile on my face and opened my mouth to speak… but nothing came out.

The fact that Sienna and I just had an argument about this was something, but the fact that I was going to be the one telling her about it when I knew that she was angry with me right now was a complete other thing that I didn’t even want to think of. “You were with Valeria when they found his body. The men sent me the videos of the surveillance cameras.” Donatello said before starting the car as he put his phone down. “You should know more than anyone that I wouldn’t do anything that would harm the pack, Arturo. Therefore, I do believe that you should be aware that if anything is done by me, then it would be to help you somehow. The point of me being your beta is you trusting that.”

“But like I said… I’m used to it. These wounds? They’ll fade in time. The bruises will vanish. But her need for violence—she’ll always find something new. Someone new.” Dorian looked up again, this time locking eyes with himself in the mirror. A bitter smile curled at the edge of his lips. “And when she does… maybe I’ll finally be gone by then.” The gates of the Aihara Estate loomed tall and imposing under the veil of night, their black ironwork twisted like serpents. Rows of sleek luxury cars lined the private road, glinting beneath the golden floodlights that illuminated the long drive toward the grand hall. Dorian stepped out of the matte black limousine, his posture straight despite the

Dana was a Lamberti, and my other three ‘best friends’ with their ‘busy lives’ abandoned me and never took the time to visit Siena. “You have one friend, and that friend has a black eye,” Dario spoke and showed himself. “Oh my god.” I gasped and ran towards him. “Who did this to you?” “It was that crazy baby daddy of yours, and it was all because I told you the truth about his assistant. Can you believe it?” Dario spoke before he took a look at my family. “I don’t think we’ve officially met yet, Dario Orlando.” He introduced himself with a bright smile on his face.

Aurora smiled before kissing me again, this time her kiss was a lot more confident and yet, a little more gentle than it was earlier. “I can officially say that this was the best night of my life, Dante D’Angelo”

I let out a grunt as I pushed Victor off of me. I glanced back at the front door and saw that Sir Dominic was already dragging Dorian inside, probably back to his cell. Victor had tacked me out of the way just in time but it seems the arrow had grazed his left leg, a few inches below his knee. Dorian was never a good shot, thank goodness for that. "You okay?" I asked as I pulled Victor to his feet. "Yeah." He replied as he shook his left leg. "He barely got me."

“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.

Not until it was over. Beside me, Dorian fought like the gods had made him from blade and fury. His claws were out, his eyes dark with the thrill and terror of war. Victor moved with brutal precision a few feet ahead, blood on his armor but none of it his. Rylan flanked the other side, holding the left line like it was made of steel. We were winning. But something still pressed on my chest. A wrongness. A pressure on the air that no victory could explain.

And he was going to make damn sure she would be again. Dorian didn’t wait for the elevator. He stabbed the button for the stairs, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. His polished dress shoes echoed against the concrete steps as he descended floor after floor like a man chasing gravity, fast, furious, dangerous. By the time he hit the lobby, his coat was unbuttoned, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to keep them from shaking. Son of a bitch. Asher Donovan. That arrogant, polished, silver tongued bastard who had the audacity to look him in the eye and claim he was going to win her back like it was some game. Like Vera was a prize to be fought over.