Atlas Of The Heart Novelas e Histórias

"I'll see you in my office later." With that, he turned and vanished, leaving Noah standing in that vacant room, the beat of her heart going wild in her chest. She breathed in deeply, trying to steady herself, but the encounter had left her shaken. The thought that she was embroiled in some kind of dangerous game, that had Noah in its midst-a game whose rules were ever-changing, whose stakes were well beyond anything she could have imagined-wouldn't leave her head. And right at the heart of this game was Damien, with his inscrutable eyes and words as sharp as whips.

In the center of the chamber, suspended over a massive, churning whirlpool of black water, was the Paris Heart. It was twice the size of the London engine, a perfect, translucent sphere of lunar crystal, but it was entirely submerged within a cylindrical glass containment tank that was being fed by four massive intake pipes. The water inside the tank was a thick, bubbling purple liquid the concentrated essence waste. The Heart wasn't white or blue; it was a deep, bruised magenta, its internal core fractured into a thousand tiny veins that spit out small, jagged needles of dark energy into the surrounding water.

Ethan also ordered his driver to take me to the hospital and back to his mansion, as we had a lot to prepare for the conference meeting tomorrow. Just as we drove out, a red Porsche blocked our exit intentionally. As I tried to understand what was going on, I noticed the customized plate number… Isabella.

i asked and he stared at me clearly surprised att my request. “Okay-” he said opening his hands to accomodate me, i moved into his embrace and placed my head to his chest. I listened to his heart beat which seemed to be racing at an exceptionally high rate, Atlas was always laid back and nothing got him on the edge, yet his heartbeat was raging. The hug didn’t last for long as a low growl escaped his lips and he abruptly pushed me back. “I should get going, you need to focus on the task at hand.” He said and walked out of the room closing the door behind him.

Atlas growls at him. “Gladly,” Romeo smoothly replies, walking out of the curtains and leaving us alone. I turn on Atlas’ lap and place my hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast, noticing his hands clenched into fists at my waist. “He is a delight.” Atlas slowly looks down at me, and in the dim darkness, it takes my breath away how handsome he is. “Let me touch you, Nyx. I need… I need you right now.” “I’ve never—”

Asher asked Atlas. Atlas' gaze turned inward. "My stomach doesn't hurt; my lungs aren't heavy." He took the stethoscope from around his neck, fitted it to his ears, and listened to his heart. "My heart murmur is gone." He looked up, awe on his face. "Right? My legs aren't in agony. My arms feel like I could lift a million pounds and not feel the strain." Asher did a couple of bicep curls. I looked at Xander, Saint, and Taryk. Hints of jealousy darkened the happiness in their expressions.

Because I felt like my body is alive but my heart has been long dead and buried. It gave up on Atlas.

' If he doesn't want to, tie him up himself. Ethan Wharton shook his head and explained around Kristen Oliver's waist. 'It is rumored in the medical field and on the black market that there is a demon heart, which is a human heart cultivated with high technology. It can be repaired by itself according to the patient's physique, and there is no need for external maintenance in the later stage. If I can find it, maybe I won't have to change my heart. ' The expression on Kristen Oliver's face went from disbelief to ecstasy. 'Really?'

I ended up sitting on the floor. From my seated position, I actually had a clearer view of the heart. Despite feeling uneasy, I forced myself to look at it. Upon closer examination, I noticed that this bright red heart was pulsating vigorously, with a rhythm similar to a normal human heart. But that wasn't all. If I looked closely, I could even make out a white shape within the heart. This white shape was circular, resembling a large and round pearl.

Crest slid a leather tube across my lap. “What’s this?” “Gift six.” Inside was a life-size, charcoal portrait of me, soft, sensual, impossibly intimate. Drawn by a renowned Athens artist. How he did it? I didn’t know. My eyes stung. “You did this… before we even left?”