Declan Harp Novels & Stories

I try to resist, but my curiosity gets the better of me and I follow along behind him. We find Declan working out in one of the estate’s gyms. He’s sitting on one of the benches, lifting weights. He must sense us come into the room, but he doesn’t look up from watching his own arm flex. Maybe he’s lost in thought. Or maybe he’s ignoring us. I follow Hugh right to Declan’s side, then Hugh looks at me. “Tell him,” Hugh says. “Our mate replied to me,” I say. “Good,” Declan says, and nothing else.

Bren said, with the eleven-year equanimity of someone who had made peace with the fact that disagreeing with the King was part of his job description. "Bren." "I will be discreet," Bren said. "I will be invisible. I will stay back the appropriate distance when you find her. But you are not walking into a human city alone following a trail that Declan laid, because Declan is not operating alone and he has had four years to become very good at the kind of work that happens in margins." He paused. "I will be there. Non-negotiably." Xander looked at him. "Fine," he said.

Standing, I turn to Declan. “Thanks.” “No problem. But I do think we should mark this date down in history as the day you came to me for advice.” “I was actually hoping Phil was here.” “Fuck you.” I laugh. “He probably would have said the opposite.” “No shit. He plays it too safe.” Declan shakes his head. “He’s going to miss his chance with her,” he says, meaning Danielle. “But what am I—” He cuts off when he hears Danielle loudly say someone the bar isn’t open yet.

And that’s when his voice cut through the air like a whip. “Mia Williams.” I froze. Slowly turned. And there he was. Harry Declan stood in front of the windows, a storm in a navy three-piece suit. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his tie loosened just enough to make him look sinfully undone. His dark eyes locked on mine with surgical precision. “How do you know my name?” I whispered. He smiled—but there was nothing kind in it. “I know everything about my employees. Especially the ones who wander into restricted areas and open confidential files.”

As Harry continued his speech, Donovan remained composed, his focus unwavering as he listened intently to his opponent's words. Despite Harry's eloquence, Donovan exuded an air of quiet assurance, his mind already formulating his own strategy for when it was his turn to address the crowd. "In the spirit of unity and progress, I offer myself as a champion for our collective aspirations and ambitions," Harry declared, his tone measured yet impassioned. "I believe that true leadership is not about dictating from above, but rather about listening, understanding, and empowering those whom we serve." His eloquence drew nods of approval from the audience, impressed by Harry's ability to articulate

Reilly said as he continued to follow the others to the cells. Declan fell back behind the group a few steps, contemplating what both Dante and Reilly just told him. Dante had been Declan’s friend and most trusted advisor for many, many years. Reilly was someone Declan raised to be the Lycan he is today. A Lycan that is compassionate, caring, and one who others seek out when they need or want guidance, so why was Declan having such a hard time with this situation? Declan knew he wanted Alsie, shit he already marked her, so why the trepidation?

The face of the familiar man who she had never wanted to see again came to view as he ran his hands in a sleek gentle man through the front of his hair to the back. “Hi, Danica.” “I’m Declan Deane.”

The two stood out together. Darla was a solid face reader. She had a crush on whoever was good looking. But why does this man look familiar? Her eyes widened when she recognize him. "You're Declan? Declan of the Moore family?" Declan looked at her in surprise. "You know me?" Darla jumped up, happily, "Yeah, yeah, l'm a fan of yours!" The piano world had produced such a godly man as Declan, and with his face value and family history going against the grain, Darla had long since become a fan of him.

“Master, do you still want to inform him? It’s very likely that our mission failed last time because he told Thomas about it! Shouldn’t we be cautious against him?” Dragon Claw said, “We should be more aware of him, but the success of this plan still depends largely on Declan’s credibility. We have no choice but to use him. Just call him over.” Disgruntled, Heron unwillingly went off to call Declan. Declan was over there by the time Dragon Claw finished his breakfast. “Were you looking for me?” Declan asked. Dragon Claw grinned and mysteriously said, “Let’s go. I’ll show you some good stuff! I guarantee it will open your eyes.”

He says with a raised brow. I’m about to answer his question when Gideon and Outlaw, aka Declan Archer, walk in the door. Declan is a tall bastard too. His hair is dark, nearly black, and his eyes are a deep blue color, whereas Gideon is golden-haired with obsidian eyes. Declan is a true black Irish and quite a deadly fucker. The men are a true contrast. We all shake hands in greeting. Unlike Gideon and I, Declan and I are not overly friendly, but we respect each other. Hunter is a little more enthusiastic in his greeting when he steps forward and shakes the men’s hands. “Reaper, Outlaw. How’s it going?” Both men nod and smile in greeting at Hunter’s excited tone. Priest clears his throat an