Bourbon Detective Conan Novels & Stories

If his heart beat increased any louder than this, then it would definitely explode and he'd die of anxiety and excitement. Nate didn't know if he should move back but he couldn't, he felt rooted to that spot, he knew Spade was moving closer to him but he didn't know what to do. The knock on the door suddenly broke their little bubble of whatever they were doing, making Nate to quickly look away from Spade, focusing on his thighs, Spade didn't move though, but by the way Nate was quick to look away, he knew the moment had been ruined. He growled out lowly before he turned around and faced the door, it opened and the woman that had been attending to them earlier on, walked in with a bottle of

A man stepped inside, his movement calm and unhurried. He was dressed in a dark suit that fit him comfortably. He carried no visible files, no clipboard, no folder. That unsettled me more than if he had. He closed the door behind him and sat across from me, leaning back slightly as if we were about to have coffee. He was so casual… “Hi,” he said casually. “I’m Detective Conan.” His voice was light and almost friendly. I nodded, unsure whether I was supposed to speak. He studied me openly and throughly.

I asked to ensure everything’s kept under lock and key. “I am as private as you want me to be,” he answered before he pointed to someone sitting at the bar counter. “That is the man you are looking for.” He continued. I nodded as I walked towards him. “A glass of bourbon?” I asked the barman as I sat next to the target. The glass landed in front of me in the manner I never expected, spilling liquid around. It was not of importance, Dex reminded me. “I’ve heard about you, Conan,” I said without taking a look at him.

“This information will decide to what degree you deserve my information.” Edmund nodded, slow. “Fair enough. Well then, I’ll trust your judgment.” He picked up the hot coffee that was served by Conan. He sipped very carefully so as not to burn his tongue. Bom! Something at the back of his head was exploding. He felt like he was experiencing intense fireworks. The coffee was perfect on his tongue, it lingered inside his mouth to feel the bitter taste before it slid down his throat. “What is this?” He asked in awe. His dilated pupils were looking at Conan in disbelief.

Detective O'Connell looked somewhat in his middle forties, his golden eyes matching his brown hair, his lack of a wedding ring normal for someone with his type of duties. He had probably been a fine man in his youth "Miss Paul", Detective O'Connell said as I sat up on the bed with the help of Sacha. I had been wondering when the police were going to show. "We won't take much of your time now". "This is Detective Conan with me", O'Connell introduced, pointing to the younger looking man behind him who nodded at me. "We'll just take your statement, ask a few questions and we'll be out of your hair".

A low rumble followed, not threatening but it was quite familiar. I got up carefully and stepped toward the window. Outside, in the dim light of the moon, stood Conan in his wolf form. His fur was dark and very clean, his body strong, and his eyes glowed faintly in the light. He stepped closer and pressed his nose gently against the wooden frame. “Conan,” I whispered softly, unable to stop the warmth spreading through me. He nuzzled the frame, his eyes locked on mine. He did not need words. That simple act told me

Conan asked as he had his hands folded around his chest as he relaxed back on the chair. “Most of the rogues downtown were caught and are now being sent down to the mansion this minute as we speak. “Good!” “Excellent” Conan said, smiling at Damien. And almost hugged him. I could feel his excitement from just the tone of his voice. “How do you feel now Luna?” he asked, looking straight into my eyes. I smiled as I gave a response to him. “I'm better now,” I said, smiling at him. “Thanks for sticking around,” I said.

There was nothing more I could expect when I saw him with another woman. “Cami, are you alright?” Conan grabbed my arm to steady my body. “Are you tired? Can I take you home?” “I don’t have a home…” I slurred. “But…” I embraced him tightly. “You’re home.” Conan cupped the back of my head, letting me smell his addictive scent. “I want to date you.” “You’re drunk.” He chuckled. “I’m serious,” I mumbled, smiling sadly. ***********

Sometimes we had to adjust, but that was just life. My cousin reached back into the black bag and pulled out a bottle, sliding it over to Dante. His eyes bulged with it being a premium bottle of bourbon, dated 1801. “I know that you will not want Ziyah out of your sight, so this bottle is yours and another one from 1818 will be made available to you upon choosing to accompany them.”

“Though I imagined a more dramatic font.” He chuckled darkly and stepped closer, droplets of water trailing down his abs. He leaned behind me on the bed, reaching over to pour himself a glass of bourbon from the cart nearby — at 7 a.m., no less — then offered it to me instead. “Drink,” he said. “We toast to your first kill.” I took the glass and let the burn settle in my throat. It tasted like liberation. On screen, the camera zoomed in on the crime scene. Yellow tapes surrounding the area and flashing lights.