Captain Hook Jason Isaacs Novels & Stories

"Why did you ask?" "You looked kind of lost," he said, his eyes darting into Isabella like metal spikes. "Pardon my manners, I'm Jason." His hands shook as he moved them, in a bid to get a handshake, but then deciding it would not be gentlemanly, he took it back. Beautiful name. Beautiful male.

STACY. A man in a crisp white and navy blue uniform approaches us, bowing respectfully. "Alpha Barron, ma’am," he says warmly. "Welcome aboard your yacht. I’m Captain Jeff Green, and I’ll be your captain for this cruise. Please allow me to escort you onboard." Jason extends his hand, a confident smile lighting up his face. Without hesitation, I place my hand in his, letting him guide me up the gangway. My heels click against the polished wooden planks.

I called them the Sinister Six. Jason Stokes was the leader. Tall, good-looking, green eyes, messy black hair. He treated everyone like trash unless you were attractive enough to matter. He had a scar on his shoulder from a party fight—at least that was the story. The story changed every time, so maybe he just cut himself making a sandwich. Either way, intelligence wasn’t his strength.

"And Draven cannot wipe her memory and successfully block the mate bond if she’s not fully restrained. That's all she deserves, anyway." ​"I also don't understand what you get out of this, Bella," Jason queries, his voice laced with a strange mix of morbid curiosity and greed. "You're already the captain of the cheerleading squad and you're a bombshell. Why help Draven?"

Yes. This scene was… intense. Natalie, after being rejected, kidnapped the doctor and brought him home. The female crew members immediately lost their minds. “AHHH! Jason tied up?! This is my dream!” “Stop screaming—you’re not the one going up there!” “Why does it have to be her?!” “So annoying—she doesn’t deserve him!” “Ahem!” Phil clapped. “Everyone settle down! Ready—three, two, one… action!” Isabella transformed instantly.

A voice came out, causing a hush of silence in the room. Out of the shadows, stepped the least person I expected. He looked way different from how I knew him. And this was the second time I was seeing him today. Jason Myers. What was the captain of the hockey team doing here? In a place surrounded by such men? The fat man's face had instantly turned white. “Mr. Myers. I didn't know she had an affiliation with you.” He stammered, instantly letting go of my hair. Jason's eyes narrowed, “Now you do, and that hand…” his gaze zeroing on the man's hand.

He knows being a Castigado has its privileges but this is something he cannot go beyond without doing the dirty work. Jason then turns away. He reached for his phone in his jacket's pocket and took it out. With his quick thumb, he decided to call Stella but it would just beep. He did it a couple of times and every time is a beep. “Fuck!” he cursed under his breath. He looked for his assistant’s number and called. On the third ring, his assistant answered. “Send me Charles’ new phone number,” he commanded and rudely hung up. Not two minutes later, he received a text with Charles's number. He clicked it instantly and called. It started ringing. While it was, Jason turned and saw Jenkins with a

Charli met them first. "Chelsea..." Her words weren't forming as they hugged and cried. "What happened?" I asked. "I got the shot, the one I'd been waiting for," Isaac said. "When he hung up the phone, he was angry. Before that, it was weird. He was calculating and methodical. No emotion. But after hearing Alex's voice, he lost it, enough to turn his back. He'd made everyone lie down." "Dead?" I asked. "Sir," an officer said to Isaac. "Sir, come with us."

He flicked a hand, and his own security detail stepped forward to block them. "Jason, I'm not here to crash your party. I just want one woman! Hand her over, and I'll leave right now. You can continue with your fun! But if you get in my way, Mr. Rook and I won't let this go." "You bring your people onto my ship and wreck my party, and you dare say you won't let it go?" Jason gave a cold laugh. "Did your brain shrink to the size of your namesake, Mr. Toothpick? You've got it backward. I'm the one who won't let this go!"

Most of the Warhawks roster was currently busy trying to drown their adrenaline in liquor or grinding against local omegas on the floor. Not Santiago. He was a predator on a stakeout. He had only agreed to this neon-lit hellhole because Isaac Corres was a master manipulator who had somehow wired himself directly into Santiago’s central nervous system. The door hissed open. A lean, sharp-jawed man stepped in alone. Isaac had ditched the oversized jersey for a black leather jacket that hugged his frame, his silver-blonde hair swept back, exposing a throat that hadn't been marked yet. He looked different every time he shifted—an independent stray who refused to join a pack.