Bulletbarry Face Novels & Stories

He could not hold himself back. "I agree with you. She is pretty, but you need to let go of her or I'll tear you to shreds," Gabriel growled and grabbed the shifter's shoulder spinning him to face him. The shifter had brown eyes that seemed void of any empathy or kindness. If he would grow out his hair, maybe he wouldn't be as bad looking as he was. Gabriel smirked seeing the shifter's face fill with dread. "Oh… um… yeah it's you. Hi, I'm Barry. I was just introducing myself to your new friend here…heh. So yeah, I better get going."

she snapped, “I need to get back the shop before the boss has my head. Is this about the Bloody Barbies again?” Bloody Barbie was the nickname Maria gave to the murders ever since she’d gotten involved as a suspect. It was an apt name. Each crime scene that had been investigated was painted red with each victim’s blood, and in each one there would be a bloody doll left behind (though, not exactly a Barbie), no less than three feet away from the body.

He was a rough one too and I couldn't wait until he let all his frustration out on me. Barry shook his head to try and gain composure of his human side. He sat on his bed to take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Brandon. I never lost control like that. Fuck! He won't heel." Barry cracked his neck as his eyes flashed between navy blue and sky blue. He was so incredibly masculine and hot!

As women ogled me, I went straight to a barstool to order something to drink. “Whiskey.” I grunted at the bartender. He got to work making my drink before sliding it down to me. I chugged it quickly and ordered another. I could see him visibly sigh before getting to work again. Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I turned to look and see who disturbed my peace. “Hi.” A short wolf squeaked at me. She had red hair, like Julissa and green eyes. I already started to resent her for looking similar to the one I recently lost.

"I will never be afraid of a coward like you." "But, I see you made some progress, now you can remember Alyne. Unfortunately, that girl will never come back to you," said Danish. "You should be ashamed to meet her. Owh, but you are a shameless man." Bugh! A blow landed right on Danish's left cheek. Herrin's hands were still tightly clenched after landing smoothly on Danish's face. "Argh!" Danish groaned while holding his left cheek. The corners of his lips were bleeding.

He growled at me as he slammed back into a locker and I groaned in pain. "What did I tell you, duck?" He asked jabbing his free-hand in my forehead making me flinch as I closed my eyes so he wouldn't poke his finger into my eyes. " Hey new Dude ! walk away!" and the jabbing stopped as I opened my eyes and saw Vincent glaring at the new guy.

even beginning to turn a greenish yellow in places. Somehow, he managed to keep a straight face. Anything other than a deadpan expression could be misconstrued as guilt, or worse... weakness. The skin around Alfie's left eye was so puffy and swollen it looked as if he could barely see out of the eye and two little white butterfly stitches crossed the cut by his eye and the bridge of his nose. 'He's a real mess,' Sam thought. This was what he'd craved—to see Alfie's handsome face messed up beyond recognition, but somehow, it didn't feel quite as satisfying as he'd imagined it might. It didn't erase the betrayal or humiliation.

The distance was short—easy to jump. I leapt down and stood before her. She was small and pretty. "Your hair is red. I’ve never seen it before," she said. I found her funny and giggled. "You can touch it if you want." Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she gently tapped my hair, visibly amazed. "Betas are the warriors of a pack. They fight and protect everyone. They’re strong-willed. Don’t be sad that you’re a beta. You’re pretty, too," I said with a reassuring smile.

Barry's eyes darted nervously, feeling utterly humiliated but aware of the danger he faced. "Dude, do you know who I am? Have you considered the consequences of making an enemy of me?" Barry asked.

My entire body trembled. Barbie was standing there, but she wasn't the one who had fired. At least, not intentionally. She was clutching her wrist, her hand dripping a sickening, bright crimson onto her pink tweed jacket. The blood spread across the fabric like a macabre watercolor. A small, silver handgun lay on the gravel a few feet away from her, smoke still curling from the barrel like a venomous snake. She was staring at her hand, her eyes wide and glassy, her mouth open in a silent wail that somehow seemed louder than any scream.