Audiobook The Picture Of Dorian Gray Mga Nobela at Kwento

I wasn’t even sure if he’d gotten everything settled with his frat brothers when he drove me to the airport in the morning. I tried to let those thoughts fade away while on my flight home. I put in my earbuds and decided to listen to one of the smutty werewolf audio books Hana has gotten me hooked on, Alpha Gray by CJ Primer, with Theo and Maddie as narrators. The book is HOT, and Theo’s voice… yeah, it makes for an enjoyable two-and-a-half-hour flight. I love how he changes his voice when speaking for each Alpha. Hana told me they’ve done the narration for the rest of the series, and I can’t wait to listen.

Testing its energy. She stepped into the library—dimly lit, thick with the scent of leather and aged paper. A fire crackled low in the stone hearth. Shelves stretched up to the coffered ceiling, heavy with old books and older secrets. And there, seated in a high-backed leather chair, was Dorian Gates. He didn’t look surprised to see her. “Looking for something?” he asked, voice low and even. She stepped inside without hesitation, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

My vision blurred, and a wave of dizziness washed over me as I began to black out. “Just breathe,” Gracie whispered, her voice echoing in my ears. “Let it take hold.” she instructed. The room began to spin, the glowing orbs around me blurring into streaks of light. My legs felt weak, and I struggled to stay upright. I felt myself hit the ground below me as the world around me went dark, and all I could hear in the Darkness were soft, alluring whispers. —————————- This book is the property of Ulliend Musings and its brand. It is only to be promoted or disturbed by approved formats such as Goodnovel and KindleVella.

“You don’t want me to leave.” No. He fucking didn’t, he sure as hell didn’t want her to leave! He pushed off the counter, the wooden floors creaking under his deliberate steps as he closed the distance between them. He stopped just behind her, close enough that he could breathe her in vanilla and something deeper, something uniquely her. His fingers ghosted over the book she was holding. The Picture of Dorian Gray. “Do you know what this book is about?” His voice was low, almost a whisper.

He started to chuckle. A low, lifeless chuckle that made my spine shingle. Shaking his head, he said, "You think you're so clever." I quieted myself. He leaned in then, his breath warm against my flesh. Aurora, but, you forget; I know you too. And the power in the room changed exactly like that. Since for the first time in weeks... Dorian was not merely breaking apart. He was starting to reconstruct himself. I failed to fall asleep that evening. Something about the way Dorian had stared at me. It was not only loss now. It turned out to be darker. Something dangerous. I heard my phone ding 2:00 AM. a declaration. Not from an unidentified number this time, though.

And then nothing else, because he was Cain, and two sentences were frequently more than most people managed in an hour, and I had found, over the last several weeks, that I had learned to hear them correctly. Dorian was beside me. He had a book — not the book, a different one, something he had found in the palace library in the three weeks of the inquiry when he was not counter-arguing obstructions or reading territorial law. He was not reading it now. He was at the table, present in the specific way he was present — slightly apart, entirely there.

“Did you just summon a book?” “I marked it weeks ago,” Dorian said, flipping through the thick, worn pages. “It’s rare. Older than most libraries even remember. I didn’t think much of it then, but now…” He flipped rapidly until he stopped, eyes locked onto a page. His breath hitched. “No. No way.” “What?” Elias asked, still pale from the ordeal.

It’s an old leather-bound book, with a red leather cover and a gold emblem on the front, she turns it to read the spine, “The Parrot and the Hunter. Is this a children’s book or a weird shifter romance novel?” Morpheus laughs, and she sits down and opens it, “Ah, romance novel.” She taps it thoughtfully, “No pictures.” She smiles as Sol flushes and she curls up on the sofa to read, she flips through, “Oh, my apologies, there are pictures.” Sol groans as she takes in the etching of two people clearly fucking each other senseless. “Informative pictures.” Morpheus laughs hard,

Hence, once he turned around, they might not feel so awkward. Unfortunately, there were no magazines around here. She found only hard-to-read books that she had never thought to read on her own...Politics...Economics...Classic literature. However, one book caught her eyes. Celine chose the literature that she remembered was adapted into a movie. At least she knows some plot and could have a decent conversation if he asks anything about it. She sat and read the book. Then she saw a phrase written in pitch-black ink on the front page of Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Dorian's POV "You cannot read the marginal notes," Dorian said, and Vael looked at him across the chamber with the document in his hand and said nothing, which was the confirmation Dorian needed. "The last page requires the marginal notes to make sense of it. The marginal notes are in a dialect that has been dead for two hundred years and you cannot read them and you have never been able to read them which is why you have been managing a cycle for thirty years without understanding the full mechanism you were managing."