Novel & Cerita Detective Conan Bourbon

He definitely appreciated a good drink. “See anything you like?” His voice was suddenly right behind me, low and warm, breath ghosting across my ear. A shiver raced down my spine. I pointed to the top shelf. “Elijah Craig Small Batch. Not many keep that. Smoky bourbon… kind of like you.” I glanced over my shoulder. “With blood orange.” His brows shot up. “You know your bourbon. So that’s how you smell me? Smoky bourbon and blood orange?” “I know what I like. I’m no expert. But yes—that’s your scent to me. Warm smoke and sharp citrus.”

“Though I imagined a more dramatic font.” He chuckled darkly and stepped closer, droplets of water trailing down his abs. He leaned behind me on the bed, reaching over to pour himself a glass of bourbon from the cart nearby — at 7 a.m., no less — then offered it to me instead. “Drink,” he said. “We toast to your first kill.” I took the glass and let the burn settle in my throat. It tasted like liberation. On screen, the camera zoomed in on the crime scene. Yellow tapes surrounding the area and flashing lights.

“I don’t see many with Elijah Craig. A smoky bourbon, like your scent. Well, that with blood orange.” His eyebrows shoot up, “You know your bourbon. So my scent to you is bourbon and blood orange?” “I know what I like, I’m not a connoisseur. Yes, that is your scent to me. It’s a smoky bourbon with blood orange.” I say honestly. “Interesting. Would you like a glass?” He offers. “Sure.” As he pours me a glass he casually says, “Your scent is spiced cranberry and cinnamon. I think after some of our interactions together, it fits you. Warm, tasty but spicy at the same time.”

Brad was a high ranking wolf, he could handle the drink but he would still act intoxicated. A knock arrived at the door notifying me of a guest. I put the vial in a pocket in my panty liner. Just in case I was searched for weapons or anything of that sort, I could easily get through security without too much suspicion. I opened the door to see Conan in a black tuxedo, looking as hot as ever. His hair was parted by the edge, giving him a nineties look with his brows lapping to his face giving a hot crease when he would frown.

Ron's lips twitched in distaste, skepticism flashed on his face,his eyes squinted with curiosity. “Yeah of course." Ron replied,his tone masked with sarcasm. The bartender returned at the same time with our bourbon. She laid it on the table alongside four shots,maintaining her demure. She flashed a professional smile at us, took a head bow and retreated away. Ron opened the bottle of bourbon immediately and poured into the shots,his eyes fixated on me, giving me a cold creep. Something about Ron felt totally odd but unfortunately, I couldn't decipher what was off about him.

Conan walked back in, Canon cuddled in one arm and his bottle in the other. "Um, yeah, I'm gonna get some whiskey," I muttered, retreating to the cabinet before my pride forced me to throw the human out the window. I reminded myself of what Conan told me: He's rough, but he's loyal. You don't have to like him—just don't kill him. Right. Let's rise above. I brought out the best bottle. Something smooth. A rare treat. "Three shots, then?" The human tilted his head, smirking. "Trying to catch up already?"

A minute later, my cell buzzed with the reply. “Yes.” My mom told me. I smirked. I was happy I found one of the fuckers who did that to my mom. I gave a slight nod to Axel who smirked back. “Hey, what whiskey do you have?” Axel asked him when he came over. “We’ve got Irish, Japanese, Scotch, Single Malts, Rye and Bourbon. What do you like?” “Johnny Walker.” He told him. “Coming right up. And for you?” he asked, “Bourbon, don’t care what one.” I told him. He nodded again.

Gun smirked as Conan glared at him. "She didn't refuse to meet, she had work to do" Conan pulled his cupboard open, hands cupping his glass of whiskey. He retrieved his pills and popped two in his mouth downing it with whiskey. It was not an advisable habit but it was the only way he could stand the taste of the godforsaking pills. "Are they back?" Arm asked, eyeing the pill bottle like a detonating bomb and in a way it was. "Maybe you should see Dr Rivers again"

Eight: A Deal with the Devil Dominic POV The bourbon’s amber glow caught the dim light filtering through the warehouse’s grimy windows, casting long shadows across the scarred wooden table. The room was thick with the scent of aged oak, faint cigarette smoke, and stale air. The fluorescent bulbs overhead buzzed, their harsh light emphasizing the dark circles under my eyes. My glass was empty, the ice long since melted into a relic of the countless refills I’d had throughout the night. The sharp bite of the bourbon lingered on my tongue, a fleeting warmth against the chill that had settled into my bones as the hours ticked by.

Damien added as she set down the tray, “bring me a glass and the bottle of bourbon from the shelf.” The maid hesitated for a moment before nodding. Once she brought the bottle and glass, Damien poured himself a generous amount of the amber liquid. He gulped it down in one go, relishing the burn as it slid down his throat. It was a temporary distraction, but one that he welcomed.