Basil Hallward Dorian Gray Novels & Stories

Henry and Dorian cackled as Adolph gave him a wolfish grin through the mirror. “Noted.” Basil looked between them, feeling out of place. He had never seen his father so happy, fixing his tie and shrugging into his ceremonial jacket trimmed with red azaleas and gold. He ran a hand through his hair and turned from the mirror to look at Basil. “What is it, son?” Basil swallowed, looking at him. What was there to say? How could he protest his father’s happiness after everything he’d learned and all the things he suspected? What did he know about choosing a wife? He was beginning to wonder if he knew anything about choosing a mate either.

Then, a familiar voice, low and smooth, tinged with quiet laughter, drifted through the basement. I turned my head, already knowing who it was before seeing him. Dorian. He was sitting at the far end of the room, talking to someone. A woman. I hadn’t seen her before, but from her outfit, I knew that she was a noble. She was smiling at him, leaning in slightly as they spoke in hushed tones. And Dorian was smiling back. That easy, boyish grin. The one he always used to give me. But when I caught his eye, something strange happened.

The memory of those hands on my back, the careful way he had dressed my wounds, flickered through me before I could stop it. Goddess, forgive me. I took his arm and let him lead me away. * The dining hall was a long room of dark wood and iron candelabras. A place was set for me: roasted quail, bread with honey, a bowl of something fragrant with herbs. Dorian sat across from me with nothing in front of him but a crystal glass filled with dark red liquid. Blood. I had smelled it before— in the chapel, when it splattered across my face— but this was different. Measured. Deliberate. The scent reached me across the table and lodged at the back of my throat, and I could not decide if it made me il

He felt the heat of Elias’s side against his, the faint scent of expensive cologne and lingering woodsmoke. "The table in the corner," Elias murmured, his lips nearly touching Roderick’s ear. "Under the velvet curtain. That’s Dorian." Roderick scanned the room without moving his head. Dorian Westfall sat alone, swirling a glass of red wine, looking like a man who hadn't a care in the world.

"We will discuss your business tomorrow. For now, enjoy the hospitality." "You are too kind," Dorian said. He bowed again. But as he turned to leave, his eyes lingered on Emily’s white streak of hair. "It suits you," Dorian whispered. "The mark of the abyss." He walked out. The heavy doors closed. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. "I don't like him," Emily said, rubbing her arms. "Neither do I," Ethan agreed. He looked down at Julian, who was still clutching his leg. "And neither does the King."

"Do you know –" "Do you want to die today?" Cahir cut him off, his tone low, quiet, warm even, but it sent a shiver racing down my spine. "You have a funny way of asking for death." "You may be a mad Alpha but I am Dorian Greyson." The man seemed to be swelling to twice his size. "I will neither bow nor bend over in the face of tyranny. Do your worst." With that he swerved away, almost hitting me a second time. I jumped away right as he went past me but he didn't go far.

So the head warrior, Arlo, got started with our lesson and he wasn’t holding back this morning. He said that we all knew what was going on and we needed to be ready. When it comes down to it, we are going to be the only things standing in the way of the vampires and the rest of civilization. So, we need to be ready for everything. To survive and protect the people that we love. As soon as training was over I headed upstairs of the packhouse to get ready for school. But I saw something strange in the upstairs sitting area, so I walked over towards the back of the couch and I saw my stepmother Jillian passed out with a martini glass in her hand.

She stared at him, mouth dry, heart racing, yet unable to tear herself away. At that moment, Dorian entered the room, likely drawn by the sound of his master’s command. Upon stepping in, He faltered, stopping short as the overpowering atmosphere struck him like a physical blow. The moment he entered, Dorian bowed his head, overwhelmed, barely able to withstand the force emanating from his master. He had encountered Valen’s powers before, but not like this. Gathering his composure, he approached Ella and, with a trembling hand, reached for her arm to pull her away from the suffocating presence.

The fire in Amalia’s hearth had burned low, throwing amber light across the carved beams. Shadows curled in the corners of the room, heavy with the scent of pine and smoke. Dorian sat at the edge of the long bench, shoulders hunched, his hands clasped so tight together it looked as if he were holding back the world.

Dorian teased, his voice dropping as he tilted her chin up. ​"Maybe," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. ​Dorian leaned back in, his eyes locked onto hers. Their lips were just inches apart when the light in the living room vanished, sucked out by a sudden, unnatural dark. ​A blinding flare of shadowy black light erupted in the center of the room. The temperature plummeted instantly, turning their breath to thick plumes of frost. From the center of the dark light, a towering, faceless figure stepped onto the hardwood floor.