Novel & Cerita Clay Jensen

I was starving and I wasn’t going home early today because I had to be in The Clay Room after school to make more mugs, so I had no choice than to eat those leaves. “You’re asking because no one wants to go with you, right?” Luke was chattier than ever. Don't get me wrong, he always had an insult or two to throw my way from time to time. But since Claire started sitting with us, he has been talking way more than usual, always responding to whatever she said. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he had a little crush on her.

Dane lifted Kade above his head and forcefully slammed him onto the small island like Hulk, causing it to shatter into tiny pieces. I remember Kade mentioning silver when I had my gun pointed at him. I quickly scanned the room for anything made of silver and saw a China cabinet conveniently in the corner of the kitchen, displaying a beautiful silverware set. It appeared to be genuine since it was enclosed in a glass case. I headed towards the cabinet, dodging the two fighters still engrossed in their brawl, and grabbed the sharpest piece of silverware I could find, along with some extras just in case. As I turned to face the warriors rolling around on the floor like high school jocks, I noti

Dear Readers, From this point, i will continue writing the sequel of the book "The claim of his Claws.." in the same book series as "THE BETA'S CONQUEST.." In this sequel, a part of beta Lance's story will be highlighted after his abandoning of the pack. His struggles from the heartbreak and post traumatic stress disorder that he suffered after his beloved mate died. Will there be another chance for Lance or will he destroy everything coming in his ways? Will he be able to control his dark side or let it go and become a rogue Werewolf wandering in the world.

My emotions churned as uncertainty gripped me. Mirage reached me and casually opened the door that I had been unconsciously reaching for. My attention shifted to the mysterious guy, studying him as he strolled past. He possessed an athlete's tall and well-built physique, suggesting recent dedication to fitness. His sandy brown hair seemed artificially colored, cut close to his head. A sharp jawline framed his gray eyes, and he wore a white shirt that complemented his olive-tanned skin, paired with brown pants and sneakers. With one hand in his pocket and the other holding a phone, he showed indifference. I mean, 'hello! A human is standing before you,' I was tempted to scream in his face. "V

Clay gave Jenna a smile and he opened the chapel doors. Inside, wooden pews lined the inside. With a podium at the front and a stage. Jenna smiled and Clay grabbed her hand. They began walking to the front when a man appeared, “Ah, Clay. It’s so nice to see you.” He spoke. The man was tall and had grey hair with blue eyes. He reminded Jenna of Mr. Rogers.

I wondered why it took so long, but I knew he would elaborate once I saw him. Casper brought them to the packhouse lounge, and I did not need to guess why it took long for them to come. The three of them were shirtless, and their shorts seemed stolen. It only meant they had been in a fight. Clay's hair was white, and he had grey eyes. I figured they were contact lenses. He was easily six feet six inches and brawny. He also had tattoos that bled to his neck. His face looked more like Amelia's but with harder edges. Had I seen him first, I would have connected the dots.

“You don’t look fucking stressed to me. You look like a man who is sulking after been dumped.” Jensen is the most observant, loud mouthed and blunt bastard I’ve ever met. As the beta of the Mo pack, his loud mouth do come in handy. But as for the other two qualities, I’m hating him for them right now. He was poking his nose where it didn’t belong.

I finally fell asleep but I tossed and turned all night. I awoke to yelling downstairs and then someone bursting through my door. I was only in my panties, so I quickly covered myself with the sheet. When I looked up I saw Jensen standing in my room. I had to catch my breath as I looked up at him. He had definitely filled out a lot since I saw him two years ago, and last night he was so angry that I didn’t get a chance to really look at him. Now though, he stood in my bedroom with a black tank top on that showed his muscles off perfectly and blue faded jeans. His tattoos on his arms moved in perfect sync with his body and his hair was spiked. “Get up and get ready. You have ten minutes to be

“You’re calling the cops?” “No, I’m calling an ambulance. You said there are children. They need medical attention, we can report the accident later. Write down your details, please.” He handed me a black notebook. The front is embossed with gold lettering. Greyson Elliot. Slack-jawed, I glanced at the notebook, then cast my gaze over the God before me. It can’t be? It’s not possible. He has Greyson’s eyes but nothing else. Greyson Elliot is a scrawny, acne-ridden geek and dirt poor. And I haven’t laid eyes on him in a decade.