Christian Grey Novels & Stories

The man's strange eyes looked up at me and narrowed. "Introduce us, son," the obvious vampire said intriguingly. Damon cleared his throat before he spoke, "Father this is Grayson. Grayson, this is my father, Maacah. "He is the first vampire from biblical times and thought to only be a deity. He also knows who and what you are," Auberon growled within my subconscious. I raised my hand and shook the legend, not intimidated. in the least. I side-eyed Damon a bit impressed with his pedigree.

To relax. “Hello, ma’am! I am Christiana Grey Kelvin. I came here to give an interview for the post of assistant hairdo.” I looked here and there and approached the receptionist finally. The moment I said her Christiana Grey Kelvin, she gave me a strange look. I kind of feared her.

the Moroi smiled. Christian managed to get a few hits against the three dhampirs who suddenly lurched towards him and he managed to knock one of them out but the other two latched onto his arms and legs and forced him onto his knees. I watched in horror and disgust as the Moroi I didn't recognise began to reach to the belt of his trousers and knew that if I didn't step in, Christian was about to be subdued to a mind scarring experience.

The ticking of the wall clock and the soft murmurs of the city outside created a peaceful background. While rummaging through the documents, a particular file caught my eye. It was labeled "Grey Enterprises: Classified." My curiosity piqued, I opened it, revealing a stack of old documents, financial records and surveillance photographs. My heart skipped a beat when I realized these were remnants of Sebastian Grey’s secret operations. One letter in particular stood out. Gray was called "The Raven" from someone's name. The cryptic language and eerie tone sent chills down my spine. The letter pointed to widespread fraud, suggesting that Gray and Blackwood were merely participants in a larger ga

* Alpha King Zed * The sun is about to set in the West when I look up asking the skies if this is the end of my Father. The ceremony is over and all that's left is the stone built engraved with his name on top. Mister Rodolp Greyback, born on the eighth of September in 1825, my Father could live for another hundred years being old but still, I would have prepared if he died normally. It's difficult to accept that he passed away because someone had the audacity to end his life.

"I was eight when she came back. It felt like meeting a stranger. She claimed she'd given the baby up for adoption, and my father... he took her back like nothing had happened. He's a good man, and it makes him vulnerable." Damien's voice dropped to a whisper. "A week later, Philip Payne and his family were found shot dead in their Georgia apartment." I gasped. "Did she...?" I couldn't finish the question. "I don't know," Damien admitted, his unseeing eyes focused on some distant point. I'd always known Mrs. Grey was manipulative, but murder? Surely there had to be another explanation. "Is Danish Rob...?" I began, piecing it together. "Yes," Damien confirmed. "He's that child."

“Window enough, Lord Ashmedai?” “More than enough. Thank you,” a second Christian announces, as the creature that was fucking me becomes a faceless mass of shadow. No time to process what I’m seeing. My promised Christian – He plunged his hand straight through my chest. He wanted us to be close like this. I invited him inside me... My eyes turn solid black.

The group is having a loud discussion, not an argument, just talking loudly and excitedly about something Greyson had figured out in England. He’s laughing good-naturedly at the old woman who’s prancing about like a teenager having overdone the sugar. Greyson is maybe six foot tall, but it’s hard to tell while he’s sitting. He has pale skin, an aquiline nose, round lips and shoulder-length jet-black hair that’s a mess of tight curls. His eyes though, are stunning. The light from within marking him a Witch, but the shade of green was so vibrant. He definitely wants to get to know him. Greyson smirks,

His features were chiseled, with high cheekbones and a strong jawline that looked like it could cut through wood like it were butter. His eyes gleamed with amusement, a piercing shade of grey that seemed to hold ancient whispers. His hair, a rich dark grey perfectly styled to frame his angular face. He crossed his arms over his chest, crinkling his very ironed formal shirt, crossing his ankle and casually leaning his lean but muscular body on the wall closest to them. He's a vampire and I am completely struck by his cold but captivating presence.

The Greys. Dominic Grey—the patriarch with a reputation as notorious as it was feared. His wife, Alice Grey, once a prostitute, a woman from the shadows but is highly paid at the suburbs of Las Vegas who had been Christopher Bishop’s lover long before she was Dominic’s wife. Their children—Jewel Grey, born from Dominic and Alice, and Jace Grey—an enigma. Jace Grey, the adopted son whose origins were a blank slate, a ghost erased from every record. The perfect son, the ideal heir—yet nobody knew where he came from. Why had Dominic taken him in so willingly? What unseen hand had placed Jace into this lineage?