Ash X Gladion Novels & Stories

"You're so strong, Rey. I'm grateful for your guidance and support. With you by my side, I know we can face anything." As the battle raged on outside the infirmary, Asher and Xavier charged at Deucalion, fueled by their desire to avenge their fallen comrades and protect their realm. The three of them engaged in a fierce and brutal fight. Deucalion, known for his formidable strength and cunning, proved to be a formidable opponent, deflecting their attacks with ease and delivering powerful strikes of his own. Despite their best efforts, Asher and Xavier found themselves overpowered by Deucalion's raw power and experience. The fight took a toll on them, but they refused to back down, fighting w

Loraine’s Pov As expected, I was their target. I couldn’t help but grit my teeth and glare at them. “Let them go. What do you want from us?” I asked while looking at the two of them coldly. The one who was holding a blooded ax, named Ash, let out a chuckle while showing his broad grin, highlighting how creepy he looked right now. “We will let them go, only if you follow us.” Ash said while grinning from ear to ear, and he even licked his lips, looking at me with those lustful gazes that made me cringe all over.

They hesitated, staring at each other blankly, as a thick silence followed. Wait… do they communicate with their eyes too? I stared at them, trying to read their expressions, but it was impossible. Asher sighed and got up. “Alright, brothers. Let’s get this done.” They all did as well, adjusting their clothes. Azriel was dressed in all black, from his suit jacket down to his polished shoes. He looks amazing. Axel wore black suit trousers and a black long-sleeve shirt tucked neatly inside. Not bad either. But Asher was in black sweatpants and a black polo.

Jo said in disbelief. “Make no mistake,” Ash said, gritting his teeth, “Josiah Greenwood is a wolf in sheep's clothing. He goes around, parading himself as a messiah when in all actuality, he's a vile entity who puts money over people's lives and dignity.” “I believe you.” Jo said. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Ash said as he took their plates to the tiny sink, before returning to gently pull Jo up and lead her towards the bedroom.

Gods. A pair of gryphons soar overhead, their bondeds laughing as they dive through the clouds. Direwolves and their humans moving in perfect sychronizon. One particulary unimpressed frost lynx lounges across a tree branch, glaring down at everyone beneath it like they are personally offending its existence. Further in the distance, Ironclad dragons train with their bondeds, bronze scales glimmering beneath the rising sun. Terrifying, but majestic. For a few silent moments, I simply watch. Because despite all else, I still love them. I always have, even though Aetherion Academy was not supposed to be my future.

The subidón of total, lawless victory over our attackers sent a violent jolt of pure, unadulterated heat straight to my core. Asher strode over to me, his chest heaving, his face smeared with black mud and the blood of his victims. He grabbed the front of my tactical shirt, hauling my body up against the hot hood of a militarized all-terrain vehicle the mercenaries had abandoned at the edge of the clearing. "You set the grid perfectly, doll," Asher growled, his wild eyes dilated with an unhinged, feral lust as his large hands violently ripped the zipper of my tactical trousers open.

"Glenn! You’re acting like a common assassin for the very men who would see our lineage burned to cinders! Drop the blade!" Glenn doesn't even flicker. He doesn't look at me like the boy I grew up with, the boy who stood by my side during the harsh winters, the one who shared rations when the storehouses were empty. His face is a mask of granite, carved from the same cold, uncompromising stone as the Grand Wolf Assembly he now serves. He charges, his sword hissing as it slices through the stagnant air. It is a blur of lethal, practiced speed, a testament to the brutal training the Assembly forces upon its elite guards.

At first, I’m a little nervous, but then I see all of the other waitresses are wearing the same thing and relax. Within an hour, my confidence is restored. I have to rebuff a few strong advances, but it’s nothing I haven’t handled before. It’s after midnight when the announcer stands up in the middle of the ring to announce the club’s new gladiator. I lay my tray down and move to a shadowed corner of the room to watch Azazel walk into the ring. He’s wearing black leather pants and combat boots. His honey chest is completely bare, except for his tattoos. There’s a long gleaming sword in his hand and a shield in the other. His golden hair curls becomingly around his ears. He looks like a moder

Its strength surpassed that of the scent of blood, and was stronger than the expensive cologne he wore, that even now I could smell. “Apologize to your Luna.” When Asher spoke his voice resembled the endless pit I had seen in his eyes, the very one I somehow chased away using magic. His hair wasn’t even disheveled from the fight—his heart rate barely elevated. His spine was made of pure steel, as rigid and unbreakable as his stance. Clint Armstrong sucked in a deep, shaky breath and spat a wad of saliva and blood at my feet.