Bryce Hawthorne Novels & Stories

“When we raided the witches' coven, we found a book about the soul stone. The name beside it was Nathaniel. There are plenty of Nathaniels in this country, but if this one is truly a vampire, he could be planning to steal that girl’s soul. Or who knows what else he is planning with that stone? We can’t allow him to keep it and trap someone inside it.” I couldn’t imagine someone or something being so evil as to trap someone’s soul so they could never move on and be at peace. The vampire and human servant I watched and listened to seemed like an average couple. They didn’t interact with people except for their one maid and a delivery man sometimes. And that was only the woman, Victoria. She wa

I needed to buy myself a lot of time or else, I was going to be doomed if he discovers. Bang! I collided with a figure just as I was running, making me fall to the floor. Immediately, a sense of premonition arose in my heart as I stood up and looked at the figure. Frowning, I saw that the figure was a man in his late sixties. But from the looks of it, he didn't seem to be a member of the pack and it made me wonder if he was a spy. But then I could care less about that at the moment, I needed to leave as soon as I could. I didn't know if Alpha Kyle had noticed that I was missing or not.

I fix myself. We park and exited the car. We enter the elevator and go to the 12th floor of the building. "Mr. Brooklyn!" An old man shouted. Hilary's dad and the old man bro hug each other and shake hands. "Here's my daughter Hilary." I bowed and shake hands. "And here's my son, Richard." A five-foot and nine inches tall guy wearing a mask extends his hand. I shake hands with him. "So let's talk about the wedding?" My eyes almost got out in my eye socket. "WEDDING!?"

Sexually. I reach the small cabin which is built of glass outside the CEO's massive cabin. I see two telephones, a printer, and a fax machine on the table. I decorate my new table with the Hotwheels car, a dog's photo frame, ashtray, and the playboy swimsuit calendar. Yay! I see a file lying on the desk with the title, "Non-Disclosure Agreement." Which instantly clicks in my head, Christian Grey! Is Ryan into BDSM, wait that's why he chose me as his secretary? Does he know who I am?

Suddenly, a heavy, velvet warmth shifted against his back. Elias Hawthorne stepped out from the shadows of the command bunker’s private alcove. He had pulled on a fresh, dark silk shirt, but he hadn't fully fastened the cuffs, and the collar was open, exposing the deep, purple branding marks Damien’s mouth had left along the soft skin of his throat. His aristocratic face was pale, his dark eyes wide and dilated from the sheer, volatile rush of adrenaline and physical exhaustion still humming through his veins. Walking was a visible effort; his thighs and lower core were still trembling from the relentless, bruising intensity of their physical intimacy, every step a burning reminder of his to

Power had a way of announcing itself without words. I didn’t need anyone to tell me who it was. Adrian Hawthorne. He paused briefly at the entrance steps, speaking with someone near the door. For a moment, sunlight caught his face. Sharp features.Dark hair.A calm, unreadable expression. Then the door opened. And he disappeared inside. The courtyard fell quiet again. I stood there a moment longer than I probably should have. Then I shook my head and returned to cleaning. Just another rich man. Just another employer. Except something about the way he carried himself lingered in my mind.

But that quickly disappeared when I looked at him and remembered the rest of our story, after our friendship. Bryce had grown up well in the past four years. His shoulders were broader, his chin was defined, and his light blonde hair longer than I remembered. It wasn't too long, but had a slight wave I'd never noticed when we were younger. He was a swimmer at the academy and had always kept it short. Over the past few years, his lean swimmer's body had broadened. That wasn't to say he was heavy. The weight looked good on him, or maybe it was the suit. He definitely looked the part of a Montague minion, all the way to his Italian loafers.

The location wasn't a gleaming lab in Manhattan or a fortress in Switzerland. It was a modest, weathered cottage on the coast of Maine, owned by Dr. Aris Thorne—a man who had been the Hawke family’s private physician before Eleanor’s "death" and the only man Ethan trusted with the truth of his pulse. The Atlantic hammered against the jagged rocks outside, a rhythmic, salt-sprayed thunder that felt more honest than the humming servers of Hawke Corp.

I let her go gently. “Where?” I asked. “Show me.” She pointed toward the big glass doors at the back of the house. Before I could move, a deep voice called out, “What is going on? Why are you yelling, Wyatt?” I turned around fast and there stood Bryce. He was wearing only a black silk robe that hung loose and open. His chest was completely bare. His muscles flexed as he walked toward me. His abs were deep and well-defined, and a thick line of black hair ran down to his V-line. A heavy bulge was clearly visible under the thin robe.

He says eventually, noises behind him reveal the blonde girl that Flame was arguing with earlier. “Oh please be Darius’ friend.” She grins, pushing the boy out of the way and extending her hand. “I’m Gale. Gale Winters.” “Cain Harden.” I shake her hand quickly before dropping it and turning to the boy again, attempting to be pleasant when I just want him to get the fuck out of my way. “Darius told me we were going Tree Surfing.”