Novel & Cerita Audiobook The Picture Of Dorian Gray

You're going to be fine," he whispered soothingly, and somehow something in me calmed at that. --- ~~Meanwhile, Back at the Prison~~ Dorian was still sitting across from the two men, spine stiff, hands clasped in front of him as if he recounted everything he knew about them. "Are you certain this is everything you know about the creatures, Mr. Clarkson?" Andrew asked after a while; as he finished jotting down in his book, he glanced briefly at the book, then at Dorian. "That’s all," Dorian replied. His voice was cold but steady. "Okay, sure. Thank you." Andrew nodded as he clicked the note shut and then slid it into his briefcase.

he called after me. I shot him a grin over my shoulder. “I prefer persistent.” Four hours later, the bookstore was quiet. The sky outside had gone dark, painted in deep navy streaked with hints of leftover sunset. I was curled into a battered armchair that smelled like dust and old secrets, half-reading a tattered copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, half-watching him from behind the pages. He hadn’t spoken again. Not once. But he hadn’t asked me to leave either.

Aeliana's tilted head shot up as she heard the creak of a floorboard few meters away. The familiar tall figure drew nearer. He looked like a merciless Grim reaper, approaching to escort her to the afterlife. The pitch black trench coat worn over his black turtle neck said it all. In his right hand, he held a book; of course, it had a grey hard cover. His smoky grey eyes landed on her for a brief moment as he passed by. Noticing the books spread out in front of her, Mr. Decarlo raised his eyebrows, slightly astonished. No... He's not impressed. He's teasing me.

“I’m looking for an old book. They said only this place has it.” I finally lifted my gaze, meeting his. “What are you looking for?” My voice came out calm, sharp, slightly cynical, just like Mae. “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” he replied politely. I gestured to the shelf behind me. “Top shelf. Left side.” He nodded quickly and moved. “Thanks.” I raised an eyebrow, silent. “Cut.”

"Don't look so angry, Basil. It was at my aunt, Lady Agatha's. She told me she had discovered a wonderful young man who was going to help her in the East End, and that his name was Dorian Gray. I am bound to state that she never told me he was good-looking. Women have no appreciation of good looks; at least, good women have not. She said that he was very earnest and had a beautiful nature. I at once pictured to myself a creature with spectacles and lank hair, horribly freckled, and tramping about on huge feet. I wish I had known it was your friend." "I am very glad you didn't, Harry." "Why?" "I don't want you to meet him." "You don't want me to meet him?" "No." "Mr. Dorian Gray is in the stu

They sat at the great hall table, and Dorian laid his books out and explained the covenant's original structure with the calm precision of a man who had spent twenty years reading and had organized twenty years of thoughts about what he'd read. He was, Aurora was discovering, An extraordinary explainer — he had the quality of someone who had never taken knowledge for granted because he had spent long enough without an audience to understand what it meant to finally have one. Sable listened with her hands flat on the table, and her face had the expression of someone receiving information that was reorganizing things she had accepted as fixed. Torven listened With his arms crossed and his eyes

I wanted know what they would feel like. "Read to me." His voice came snapping me out of my reverie and I was glad he spoke up cause I had a feeling that he wouldn't have liked it if I had kissed him and so I simply nodded, slipped from his lap, sat back where I was earlier and picked up the first book. It was titled 'one kiss from you by Christiana Dodd, great for the moment! I opened the pages and began to read while Orian reclined on the seat with his arms spread out paying an attentive ear to my voice.

"This is far from typical werewolf bonding or any relationship dynamics I've read about. Even for magical entanglements, this is... unprecedented." As we spoke, Gray scribbled notes on a pad, his expression like a man piecing together a particularly complex puzzle. Finally, he stood up and walked over to one of his bookshelves, filled with antique volumes that seemed as ancient as the wisdom they contained. He scanned the spines before pulling down a book that looked older than time. Flipping through its delicate, aged pages, he stopped at an intricate triangle illustration and placed the book in front of me. The triangle was surrounded by symbols resembling a blend of arcane runes and somet

I cough when it raises a puff of dust into the air on its way. “I gave you all the ones with more pictures,” Roger murmurs, closing his book and reaching for his next as well. “Wanted to make it easy on you.” My mouth drops open in a little outrage at his implication there but then I see the upturned corner of his lip. “Liar,” I say, smiling down at my book as I open the cover. The title page reads A Complete History of the Cults of the Dark God, 1862. “You just didn’t want to get your hands and clothes dusty touching all these old ones.” Passively, I gesture to my clothes – which are indeed covered in a light layer of grey library dust.

"Your grandmother was brilliant, Seraphina. Brilliant and ruthless and so far ahead of everyone else that we're still catching up three centuries later. If she left you a way out, it won't be obvious. It won't be easy. And it will require you to face truths that will break you." "I'm already broken," I said. My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated it. Hated showing weakness. "What's a little more damage?" Dorian smiled sadly. "Spoken like a true Ashford." He pulled out my grandmother's journal from his coat pocket—when had he grabbed it?—and handed it to me. "Read it tonight. All of it. And tomorrow, if you're ready, I'll show you what really happened. The memories I've kept locked aw