Bernie Gunther Books In Order Novels & Stories

he said with a smirk. I grumbled and went to the bookshelf. There were like thousands of books there, and I spent a good thirty minutes arranging them. Those thirty minutes were stressful, to say the least. "I'm done," I sighed in relief. "You're done?" the young man asked. "Yes, so is my admission safe?" I responded. "Not yet," he replied. "What do you mean by that?!" I yelled in frustration. "Don't shout, just do one more thing," he said calmly.

I did a little twirl in the middle of the room and started combing the bookshelves to see what treasures I could find. I was just too excited to have found this place. I came across a smaller leather-bound book that had a weird symbol on the front and when I opened it, I realized that it was a history of the Hunter's. I decided to keep that book just in case I needed it. I was totally in my own world when I felt someone’s arms go around me and breath in my ear. "I see you found my favorite place in the house." My body shivered at the contact. I thought that I was going to melt into a puddle right then and there.

She tightened the covers around her body feeling so self-conscious of her body, as he felt like a total stranger completely. He spared her a glance before moving to the lamplight stand and then picked up his gun which was right next to the condom, so easy for him to access, just a few meters away from his fingers. He pockets it and then left the room just as he had entered but this time, without any word.

Some of them looked greedy, some looked like they wanted to kill him, and some of their pupils were all shifty. “Mr. Gunther, I still need to attend to some business. Goodbye.” After Jaguar said that, he ran out impatiently. “Mr. Gunther, I have to leave too. Please excuse me.” “Everyone should leave.” The rest of them bade their farewells, but the murderous intent in their eyes grew more intense. After they left, Jerry looked at Brad malevolently and said, “Mr. Gunther, you know that my great-grandfather is after the Centennial Blood Root. Why did you give it to that kid?”

I turned it over and on the back are three crescent moons all twisted together, branded into the leather. “Careful with that one, it’s older than my great-great-grandpa” Gunner’s voice came from the doorway. He was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed in front of him. He was wearing a tight plain black t-shirt and jeans. I looked him up and down and smirked, good God he is handsome. I carefully put the book back on the shelf and crawled back onto the bed sitting up and smiling at him. “How’d you sleep gorgeous?” he asked walking over to me,

Survival was more than just pulling a trigger; it meant knowing when to pull it, who to aim at, and making sure they never got back up. Traitors hid behind expensive suits and fake smiles, knives ready to strike my back. But they forgot one thing: I played by the rules until someone played me dirty. And when they did, the retribution I served was tenfold. No one played me for a fool and lived. The cigarette had burned down to the filter. I crushed it into the ashtray, grinding it until the ember died. The tray wobbled on the edge of the table. My hand shot out to steady it, but the booze in my system dulled my reflexes. It tipped over, shattering into a thousand glinting shards.

Silas appeared with a book in his hand, his hand cast out towards the bush. Blackish tendrils of ice crawled up the bush to the roses, causing them to die, and Gunther’s eyes widened in horror. Why did he kill them? Gunther’s fists clenched, before he jumped towards the Fae, growling when a solid hand pressed into his shoulder. Zion wore a knowing expression as Silas looked back at his book with an annoyed yet searching frown, thumb on his chin. Since Gunther joined the group, Silas’s absolute ignorance of Cathy got on his nerves, so seeing him like this now only upset him more. That firm hand squeezed his shoulder, reminding him of the oath.

But of course, when I looked over her shoulder I looked straight into Janus’ eyes. “Stop replaying it in your head. Get some sleep so I can heal you. It’s a hell of a job as is. No need for you to go making it harder by distracting me.” Gunther snaps. I try to stop the film in my head but as soon as I close my eyes I see Breanna pulling the dagger. Ordering me to hold my cock to the side. The silver dagger cutting into my sack. The scorching pain. “If I could I would knock you out cold to have some peace and quiet around here,” Gunther can't hold back his agitation with me.

He held it low, finger resting on the trigger guard, and unlocked the door as quietly as he could. The house was dark. Silent. Bernard stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He moved slowly, carefully, listening for any sound that didn't belong. The living room was to his left. Kitchen straight ahead. Hallway to the bedrooms on his right. He moved toward the living room first, his back against the wall. Then he saw a shadow, moving fast across the room. Bernard spun around, his gun coming up– But before he could see anything clearly, a hand shot out from behind him and grabbed his neck.

That would be emotional suicide. I moved away from the romance section quickly, like it might contaminate me somehow. Crime thriller. I'd read a crime thriller. Something with murder and investigations and absolutely zero sexual tension. That was safer. Much safer. I browsed the mystery section and pulled out a book I'd heard good things about. A detective novel set in London. Dark, gritty, complex. Perfect. I carried it to one of the comfortable chairs by the window and settled in. The chair was incredibly comfortable—soft leather that seemed to mold around me. There was a small side table with a reading lamp. A footstool I could put my feet up on.