Donsilver Toxic Attraction Novels & Stories

he replied. "But there is something that needs more of your attention than that," he pointed at her screen which again played an Indian soap opera where a woman asked she would only marry a man who will bring her a piece of moon and the man who wanted to marry her was now on the moon just to bring a piece of it for her (I bet you've seen this one also) Roshanay's smile suddenly faltered as his voice sounded serious as she clicked her phone off. It was just this swift second and a slight change in his tone that now her heart was began to beat rapidly in her ears.

But Cedric had never been good at following instructions, and so when he reached Falcone's glass, he couldn’t help it. He looked up, their eyes met for just a second, and Cedric forgot how to breathe. Dark brown eyes, almost black in the dim light that made Cedric's stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the terrible realisation that this man was possibly the most attractive person he'd ever seen in his life. Which was inconvenient, considering said man was a killer probably wanted him dead. Cedric forced himself to look away, finishing the pour with hands that were absolutely, definitely shaking now.

The silence was worse than the gunfire had been. I stood at the shattered bar cart, surrounded by broken crystal and the metallic tang of spent ammunition, and listened to the penthouse breathe. Dante's men moved in quiet currents around me—sweeping glass, securing the hallway, dragging the last of Enzo's failed assault team toward the service elevator. No one spoke to me. No one looked at me directly. I was the Don's woman, and the Don was gone, and that made me something between royalty and a widow in waiting.

Silver’s POV “Say something,” he urged. The annoying truth was that I was more hurt by Raid pushing me to accept than by Triscade finding out I had feelings for another. “He is bad news for you, Silver. He walks with danger, sleeps with it even. I don’t think there’s a single day he doesn’t plan to kill someone.” “Don’t do that,” I muttered between heavy breaths. “Don’t try to paint him as the villain.” “I’m not painting anyone!” he retorted sharply.

The silver scorched my skin the moment it touched me. I screamed. It was instinct, raw and guttural — the sound of pure agony ripping from my throat as the metal sizzled against my flesh. I thrashed, but Roman’s grip didn’t waver. He wrapped the second cuff around my other wrist, then pulled the chain taut behind my back. My muscles convulsed. The burn wasn’t just physical — it went deeper, like the silver was seeping into my bones, into my wolf. “You feel that?” Roman asked, his voice terrifyingly calm now. “That’s just a taste.”

We shall wait and see. By the time the last crusts of the mystery-meat pizza were cleared and the bell signaling the end of lunch finally rang, I had managed to successfully establish three immutable truths about Silver Ridge High: Caleb Blackwood's presence was an overwhelming, terrifying vortex of magnetic energy, like forcing yourself to stare directly into a beautiful, yet incredibly dangerous sun. Lydia Winters's subtle, refined brand of venom was undoubtedly going to make the rest of my school year interesting, perhaps dangerously so. I had, almost miraculously, stumbled upon one person I didn't feel the immediate, primal urge to either fear or immediately drive away: Maya Collins.

A male with half his face burned screamed while healers held him down and poured silver-nitrate something over the wounds. Astrid didn’t slow. “Silver poisoning cases mostly. Southern packs still use silver bullets. Idiots.” “What is silver poisoning?” She looked at me as if I had asked her what is earth. She answered anyway. “It's like a toxin for werewolves. It works faster than wolfsbane.” Elevator this time. She hit fifth. Doors opened to marble and soft music. Wolves in robes padded around, getting massages, facials, claws trimmed. “Spa level,” she said. “Booked solid for three months. I can bump you to the front. Perks of being Gamma-Luna.”

A few of them were already being attended to because each of them were sitting right in front of the salon's lengthy mirror and a stylist with them. Daniella had the most intense urge to grab Liam’s hand and turned away out of the place with the look they'd started shooting their way. However, one look at Liam filled her with a whole lot of security as he was already emanating an arctic coldness. All signs of playfulness had gone. And right now, he appeared like a powerful man with an annoyed look and strong charisma that was based on all his life experiences. He attracted people's attention as soon as he showed up.

Of all the places he should be now, this was not the best. "Wow, Josh," Don exclaimed. "If it isn't his assistant himself." Josh, I guessed, was Don's assistant and also the one who led me in here. The look in Don's eyes was almost manic, and I could tell that he was on a killing spree. He lifted his gun towards Antonio. Now that I wasn't going to have. In a swift motion, I pointed my gun at Josh, and luckily for me, Don was looking away. I pulled the trigger, and Josh screamed.

he muttered into my hair. I sniffed. “He said he wasn’t happy. That I didn't make him happy.” Nico scoffed, pulling back. “Oh, please. Anthony’s version of danger is not labeling his leftovers. You’re way too good and exciting for him.” I managed a weak laugh. Nico smirked. “You know what you need?” “To drown in ice cream?” I asked, looking up at him “Better, Amore!” He grabbed my hands, yanking me up. “We’re going to Prism.”