Derek Storm Novels Novels & Stories

Today, I was going in to submit my resignation. Back then, Joyce was the reason I chose to stay in this city. I even refused to inherit my family's estate, severing ties with my parents completely. Three days ago, when the typhoon hit, I put my life on the line to pick Joyce up. However, she refused to come home with me. On the way back, the storm was raging, and debris struck my shoulder. I couldn't sleep that night from the pain. Then I saw Finley's Instagram post and told Joyce I was breaking up with her.

In that warmth, at the far end of the table, Derek was sitting. He had a glass of water. He had a book, large and flat-spined, the kind of book that had been assembled for use rather than reading — reference, not narrative, the pages thick and the margins annotated in what looked, from the doorway, like small dense handwriting. He was in a grey t-shirt and sweatpants and his hair was not what it was at school, not the deliberate order of it, but softer, slightly, the way hair looked when it had been slept on and then the person had gotten up too early or not slept at all.

I would just sit back and see how her story ended. … After we arrived in Norvira, everyone was busy making final preparations for the next day’s meeting… Everyone except Ash, who was still stirring up trouble. “Wynnie, I’ve never been to Norvira before. Can you show me around?” He wrapped an arm around Wynnie’s slim waist in front of me. “There’s a suit that’s only available in Norvira. Come with me to get it. You always say I look my best in a suit.”

"Why would I mock a woman who just handed me the keys to the kingdom?" I pressed my back against the cold stone. "I don't know what you're talking about." He stopped inches from me. He smelled of rain, expensive whiskey, and something feral—like cedar and blood. He reached out, his rough thumb tracing the tear track on my cheek. The touch sent a shockwave of heat through me that had nothing to do with the bond and everything to do with fear... and attraction. "Drail is an idiot," Derek murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest. "He thinks rejecting you makes him strong. He thinks breeding with that snake gives him power."

We could take them if it came to that. Derek sat at the center of a large U-shaped leather booth, legs spread arrogantly, a glass of amber liquor in his hand. I took the seat directly opposite him, the marble table between us acting as both a barrier and a battlefield. Our men stood behind us like statues, hands hovering near their weapons. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Don Wani,” Derek said, flashing a smug smile. “But I’ll admit… I’m quite disappointed.” I leaned back slightly, my eyes never leaving his. “Disappointed by what exactly?”

"If I die, you'll be free to leave." Terrified, Emma tried to pull back, but his grip clamped down like a vice. "I read your novel," he said slowly. "At the end, the female lead drives a knife into the male lead's heart. Now, I'm giving you the chance to make that ending real." "Wesley Coleman, you're insane!" Emma's voice trembled. The next second, Wesley jerked his wrist, forcing the blade in. Steel tore through flesh. Warm blood gushed instantly, soaking his white shirt, dripping down the hilt onto their joined hands.

Derek. My heart crashed against my ribs, trying to escape for me. His grip tightened just enough to force silence from me, stealing the air from my lungs. His eyes glowed that strange shade of mercury, cold silver with storms swirling behind them, nothing like Damon’s burning gold or Drake’s heated dark amber. Derek’s eyes were winter. Unforgiving, controlled, lethal. I clawed at his wrist, trying to force him off. “I… I can’t…” He didn’t let up.

The final confirmation comes in the shape of a hidden file, a false-bottomed drawer, a false life. Derek’s private study is full of shadows, of secrets, of quiet deceit. The storm drums against the windows like a warning, like an omen, like the edges of what I know to be true. I begin my search with a hunter’s patience, with a hunter’s eye, with a hunter’s instincts. The shadows of the room cannot hide what he’s done, what they’ve done, what they’ve planned, what I can see, what I can finally see. It is an elaborate scheme, and my discovery of it is elaborate in kind.

A name, a group and a secret. I curled the photo into my fist and stood up. That’s when I heard the knock. I froze with my heart dropped into my stomach. Another knock. Not frantic. Not loud. Just there. I crept down the stairs and opened the front door a crack. Derek stood on the porch. Wearing black, soaked from the rain I didn’t realize had started falling. His hair was wet and his eyes— They weren’t gold anymore. They were empty. He remained silent while I widened the door. He was merely gazing at me as if I were a forgotten and buried object that had now crawled back up.

He gripped her hand and argued, "No, I should have saved you first in that car accident. That way, you wouldn't have left, and we wouldn't have missed each other for so many years. I feel only guilt for Heather, not love." "There's no point in saying this now, Calvin. It's all over. You should leave." Charlotte pushed him away. Calvin fell silent for a minute before saying, "Lottie, don't worry. I won't let you suffer. I will prove my devotion to you." Without another word, he left her place and drove back to our home. Three days had passed. The hurricane was long gone, and peace returned once more. So did he. He slotted his house key into the keyhole and unlocked the door. All the furniture