Crowley X Bobby Novels & Stories

I sure hope that Holly and I hold up that well! Bobby had recently turned twenty-one-the minimum age for the club-and had been a surprise gift, conceived when Sylvia and Ian were on a cruise celebrating her birthday one year. He was good looking and had the fit-but-not-muscular athletic body of a swimmer under his shorts and Hawaiian shirt.

Bobby was exasperated and glared at Lucas. “I said come over here and let me kill you.” Lucas’ stunning face remained composed. “Don’t make me repeat it a third time.” His comment made Bobby mad. “Since you asked me to come over, then I will come over and kill you both!” Then, Bobby roared, “Art of Blood!” Suddenly, Bobby’s body trembled, and a fiery red aura emerged from him, forming a bloody creature, and charged toward Lucas and Cecilia. Lucas smiled faintly. Even though the bloody creature was creepy, it was still a weakling when presented before Lucas.

With a click in her ear, Angel immediately went unconscious. Before losing consciousness, Angel smelled a nice-smelling cologne. The smell was the same as the one she smelled on Richard when they were having supper just now. After knocking out Angel, Bobby looked at Richard on the bed and smiled. "Mr. Clark, you've worked hard!" "Bullshit! What's wrong with you? Are you trying to disgust me on purpose? You should have taken action a long time ago. Why didn't you do it before this disgusting thing touched me? I'll be sure to complain to William about you later!"

"Because I am not the Bobby you used to know. I am not the Bobby who would remain under the control of your stupid family. This Bobby is more powerful than you can imagine, and to let you find out, I sent you a gift, and it should have arrived by now." An ominous premonition crept through all of us, Andre gripping the phone tighter, "What do you mean? Stop speaking in riddles." "Oh dear, but if I don't, where would be the fun in that?" Bobby chuckled, his deep voice like that of a demon's. "You have always been smart, and I believe you will figure it out yourselves. Best regards." "Wait!" Adam yanked the phone, but it was too late, Bobby had ended the call.

There was a little bit of a ruckus on the other side of the phone, before Bobby’s calm voice came through. “Sierra, listen to me. You are not going to get caught, because whether you accept it or not you are a Clayton, and we Claytons are very smart people,” Bobby said and Sierra almost scoffed, as far as pep talks go, That was by far the worst. However, his words managed to calm her nerves until Ryder boomed again.

‎We froze. ‎"Ms. Bennett?" Robert's voice came from the other side. "I have the client files you requested." ‎Crowley pulled back slightly, breathing hard, and smiled like he found the interruption amusing. He helped me straightened my skirt while I tried to catch my breath and make myself look presentable. ‎"Come in," I called out, my voice not quite steady. ‎Robert opened the door and looked between me and Crowley, clearly sensing that something had just happened. His eyes took in my flushed cheeks, my slightly mussed hair, the way Crowley was looking at me.

Knox’s gaze swept over him, “You always did like making people jump through hoops for your amusement.” “Some of us call it entertainment.” Knox smirked. “Some of us call it petty.” Bobby leaned back, crossing his arms. “Petty? You might lose before you start, genius.” Knox tilted his head, like he was already bored. “Guess we’ll find out soon.” “Careful,” Bobby said, his voice low. “You might have to prove it… in front of your new partner.” “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve won one of your games,” he said, “And this time, I’ve got the better hand.”

bobby hissed and began to run to attack but he was stop when a hand grabbed his shoulder. "You know better than to start fights in school during football season" a calm voice said. Angel recognized Demmy. Bobby looked at him for a minute then shrugged himself off. Angel got the weird feeling Bobby was a little afraid if Demmy. Bobby spat blood then began to walk way but before leaving he yelled "You are dead strawberry".

He released Bobby’s shoulders. Threw his arms into the air, looked away from me and screamed into the sky. There was no mistaking it, this time . . . “Hastur! Ia, Hastur!” Bobby’s hands slowly sank out of sight into the waters of Black Creek. “Hastur!” I cried out, fell against a headstone next to me, grasping it for support . . .

Now someone was crying like Mom the night Johnny Lee had left, only softer, somewhere under the fairgrounds grandstand. Bobby glanced around again. He was alone, no one looking his way. He breathed deep and ducked around the corner, underneath the grandstand. There, not ten feet away sat Sandy Clem, her back against the grandstand’s rear wall, knees drawn to her chest, face buried in her folded arms, shoulders quivering with each quiet sob. Bobby placed a hand against the rough plywood wall, took one step toward Sandy and then froze, paralyzed by uncertainty and, yes . . .