Blackass Novel Summary Novels & Stories

Cassian’s fingers traced my bottom lip, smearing something warm across my chin. Blood. Not mine. His voice was a low purr against my trembling mouth. “Now,” he murmured. “You’re finally mine.” The light flickered. The shadows moved. And then— That was it. Blackness consumed the room. Darkness swallowed us whole. THE END THANK YOU FOR FOLLOWING THIS SERIES TO THE VERY END. Author I*******m @agkbooks

She’d come to see the bastard in the ground for herself. Dorian Ashford’s coffin sat there, slick and shiny, all polished mahogany that hollered wealth even as it sank toward the dirt. The priest mumbled some nonsense about peace everlasting, his voice half-drowned by the storm, but Sienna didn’t hear a word. Her eyes were glued to that box, her jaw locked tight. Twenty-seven years of bile churned inside her. He’d left her mom to waste away in a rusted trailer, coughing up her last breaths, while he piled up his shipping billions—money built on the wreckage of the only person who’d ever given a damn about him.

"So no. I'm not going back. I'm not going back to live in that house full of memories and pain." Before anyone could respond, she turned and ran upstairs. Her footsteps echoed through the silence until a bedroom door slammed shut, and then there was nothing. Mr. Greystone's hands trembled at his sides. Then his gaze returned slowly to Alexander, and the hatred in it hadn't lessened, if anything, it had deepened into something colder and more deliberate. "You've succeeded in manipulating another one." His voice was frighteningly calm. "For now." He took one slow step backward. "But I promise you this.. I will get back at you, Alexander Blackwood." He spat the name like it tasted of something

“Okay… someone needs to explain why your mother is pointing a gun at you as a kid.” Nobody answered her. Because nobody had answers. Carter flipped through the files again. “There’s more.” I looked at him sharply. “Stop finding more.” But he didn’t listen. He opened another document. A report. Doctor Mercer’s handwriting was at the top. Subject A: Vivienne Ashworth. Subject B: Clarissa Ashworth. My stomach twisted. Clarissa and I were in the same report. Same experiment. Roman leaned in. “Read it.” Carter nodded and started.

Held him so tight he started to cry. "I am sorry," I whispered. "I am so sorry." "It is okay," Alexei said gently. "He is fine. We are all fine." But we were not fine. We were running for our lives. Being hunted by one of the most powerful crime families in the world. How was that fine? I sat down on the motel bed. Rocked Nikolai until he calmed down. Dimitri came in and sat beside me. "We need to talk," he said. "About what?" I asked.

"It's one of the best-selling novels this year. The main characters are assassins and mercenaries, which made the book have a lot of blood and gore, and dark humor. The pacing and plot are great as well as the characters. It has a bit of romance, going from enemies to lovers." "Oh." Now, that caught my attention. "Definitely my type of story." I flipped the book to read its description on the back. "That's actually the last of the Agnis Trilogy." She fetched a couple of books from where I pulled the one on my hand and placed both over it. "First is The City of Flame, next is The Kingdom of Blades, and this, of course, is last." She tapped the books one by one. "Ah, thank you for telling, but

But I didn't, not when all I was focused on as she started to circle the edge of my desk, was bending her ass over my desk and screwing my self into her body and soul, leaving her wrecked only to fix her back together. Kayla walked between me and the desk, the smell of orange blossom and vanilla filling my nose as she lifted her ass onto my desk, legs dangling just in front of my knees. "If this is what it'll take to stop you from breathing down my neck, then sure." she said softly. Locking her eyes with mine, she slipped her sandals off her feet, her tits spilled over her dress in the process, giving me more than an eye-full of her pale, milky tits.

Ishir and Avani had immediately begun following the scent. I told Cal that he could stay, but only if he promised to stay dark and not make a sound. He agreed and Merethyl and I began searching through the rubble, trying to find anything that could help us confirm Ishir’s theory about what they were doing with Cal and the other shifters. We ended up having more luck than Ishir. We found several books, one outlining the machines that they apparently had inserted into Ancalagon. When I see them, it makes my heart hurt and the voices in my head begin to rumble.

When Caspian finally slid inside me, it was slow and deep, his eyes locked on mine. “We’ve got you,” he whispered. “Always.” They took turns loving me, gentle but intense, each of them filling me with care and passion. I came multiple times, their names on my lips like a prayer. Afterward, we lay tangled together, their bodies a protective shield around mine. As evening fell, my phone buzzed again. Another unknown number. I hesitated, but Asher nodded for me to answer the call with the phone speaker on. The same distorted voice came through. “You got away once. But we’re patient. Tell them to back off the investigation, or the next gift we send will be pieces of one of your precious alphas.”

The words landed wrong. For a second the stair rail felt unreal under my fingers. The clock’s ticking grew too loud. Outside, a child’s voice rose and then faded. I kept my face still through pure force of habit, but something in my chest locked hard enough that I had to count a full breath before I could move again. Illegal arms. Money laundering. The official story had already begun covering the floor of the east wing with cleaner crimes. Illegal arms. Money laundering. Not murder. Not the East Wing. Not the gunshot I'd heard. Someone had already decided what story Saint-Mireille was supposed to remember.