Avery Hawthorne Novels & Stories

THE HAWTHORNE'S MANSION "So up till now, you don't have a valuable reason why Claw showed up that day at their engagement dinner and even after their arranged marriage was canceled, he hasn't shown up until now?" Mr Salvatore Delm questioned as he appeared like he hadn't had enough sleep in days which he hadn't had. Both of the men precisely, Mr. Salvatore Delm and Mr. Hawthorne. The sudden appearance of Claw, the deranged and psychotic son of the Wellington's was not something that anyone was supposed to be intrigued about.

Hawthorne moved to my hole pounding me while the others stroked themselves over my body, I lost count of how many loads they fed me. One in my mouth that I swallowed. Another deep in my ass from Victor while I came a third time.They marked my chest and face At some point they put the thick tail plug back inm Then they made me crawl in around the room on all fours displaying their work. “Look at him,” Mr. Hawthorne said proudly“Covered, filled, and still wagging. Perfect little fuck-pup.” Rewrite starting from here I want some spicy shit smut but end the arc this chapter

I tried to reassure myself that it might be attributed to me, but deep down, I knew it wasn't. However, I did find solace in the thought that it could be because of Hawthorne's bloodline as it was the purest, I was told. I had heard countless stories from those who had crossed his path. One tale I'd heard was that Hawthorne's wolf form was the largest ever witnessed.

Because either Adrian Hawthorne had a concussion before he came up to me or I’m hallucinating. “But if you were to throw yourself into the arms of any man here—” his voice turns serious, “—you’ll only end up giving them bloody toes. And then, I’d have the unfortunate responsibility of explaining how someone with no social graces got into a party like this.” “So, you see, Miss Wilson,” his eyes narrow and his tone deepens with a note of distaste,” perhaps you should’ve stayed home after all.” I take back everything I just said. Adrian Hawthorne didn’t hit his head and sudden become a normal member of society. He’s still the arrogant, narcissistic asshole I know. And the heat in my stomach is

Alice’s Promotion:Meanwhile, Arnold's father, impressed with Alice's dedication and competence, names her as the new CEO of the Hawthorne corporate empire. This chapter emphasizes Arnold's father's trust and affection for Alice and lays the groundwork for her new role as the company's CEO. In the aftermath of the chaos that had befallen the Hawthorne business empire, a ray of hope emerged from the gloom. Alice, a persistent and diligent employee, had piqued the interest of Arnold's father, Charles Hawthorne. He was impressed by her unwavering passion and skill and identified in her the attributes required to drive the company forward. Charles had seen Alice's unshakable commitment personally

After the jostle in the car, he finally halted the car in front of a huge building in the woodland. No one would imagine the building was there except they were too curious. It's actually a sanctuary home which Raven had built for refugees that were attacked in a remote town by the werewolves or any places they had escaped from. They were able to get treatments and free food to survive on while most of them seemed to have their sons work with Raven since she was their life saver. Even females were volunteers for this kind of job.

The old cabin nestled within the dense thicket of the village seemed almost as weary as the man who inhabited it. Arthur sat slouched at a rustic wooden table, a dimly flickering lantern casting long shadows across his haggard face. His weathered hands clutched a half-empty bottle of whiskey, its amber contents offering temporary solace to a soul burdened with remorse.

My boots crunched over brittle twigs, none of them snapping underfoot—because the forest let me pass. That was the thing with cursed places. They always knew their own. I crouched low as the trees opened into a clearing—and I froze. The soil here was scorched, seared black like someone had poured acid over it. Bones jutted from the earth like broken spires. Dozens of them. Maybe more. Most of the larger ones were wolf. Some weren’t. In the center stood a single figure. Vyre. Her back was to me, long cloak trailing behind her like smoke. She was humming.

AVA R. -*- The journey to the village is quiet, the rhythmic crunch of my steps the only sound accompanying me. Just ahead, the cobbled roads emerge from the mist, marking the end of my long trek. Nestled far from the relentless hum of city life, the town is an ideal sanctuary—a place where werewolves can vanish into the crowd, their existence masked by the mundane. A perfect execution of "hiding in plain sight," if what I've read is to be believed.