Dorian Pavus Romane & Geschichten

Dorian coughed violently, clutching his abused throat. “Twice strangled in one day,” Dorian rasped while trying to steady his breathing. “Seems my neck is everyone’s favourite target for anger.” “Don’t provoke me, Sorcerer,” Caspian warned, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. I stepped between them, acting as a physical barrier. “Caspian, listen to me. I saw his past. Everything that happened… Dorian did it to protect me under my mother’s orders. He worked as a double agent under Vane just to keep track of their movements.”

service member. Vera attentively watched the camera footage over and over, dimly seeing the angle of that person's face, really familiar. Vera went online to look up a few famous businessmen in the city, the results surprised her. The person who slept with Aurora Gabriel was the most famous general in the city - Phelan Darius.

I turn around ready to look for another escape route, only to see the driver slinking out from the forestry, a crazed smile playing on his lips. “This can’t be possible,” I whisper. He shrugs. “You’re a smart cookie aren’t you with that little trick of yours? But unfortunately,” he snaps his fingers, and this ignites a flame into the palm of his hand. The combustion dances to the rapid beat of my heart, while the smoke that leaves it is dark and misty, almost sickly as it soars into the sky. “I should probably introduce myself don’t you think? I’m Dorian, and I’m no ordinary werewolf,” his head tilts maliciously, watching me with trained eyes. “I really don’t want to do this Tanya… I hate th

“Dorian is definitely not an ordinary God of War. He managed to destroy the four Demon Monks without much effort. “I suspect that he’s near-invincible at this point—an intermediate God of War! Stinger and I might be able to defeat him together, but it’d be hard to kill him completely…” Elaine’s beautiful face was filled with rage. “I don’t believe this! Can a crippled man even turn the tides that easily?!” “Let’s look at this another way.” Amos set his book down, showing a curious expression. “Don’t forget. No matter how weak Dorian is, he was the one who chased Henrik away. “Do you really think someone like that is completely powerless? He must’ve fabricated that image himself. “Not only is

Lucian popped his head out the driver’s window and the man’s mouth burst in a toothy smile on sighting their most regular visitor. Lucian, knowing the routine procedure, got out of the volvo, grabbing a knife he left in the car cabinet. He split skin with it, drawing blood from his palm, placed it against the gate and waited for two seconds. A click and the sound of a lock breaking open had him drawing his hand back to his sides and rushing to the car as a path appeared before him just beyond the huge gate.

Dorian says, taking a deep breath and putting his glass cup on the coffee table. Here we go, whenever they started a conversation wuth those two names, I was in for an earfull. Dorian was just a natural french boy from the stories or fantasies of any teenage girl or any woman, he had curly brown hair and the brightest brown eyes, from what I've noticed, he was a treat to the eye, tall and almost tan, just a dreamy fantasy of a man. "As you've noticed, Camila has had it pretty rough these past years and for you to just marry her, there's gotta be some sort of money's worth in it for you" he explained, his voice was low and reminded me of my Dad when he was being serious about something.

"Miss Myers, allow me to handle your luggage. Please get in the car with Mr. Lamont first." Luana, noting the driver's deferential attitude toward Dorian, was filled with curiosity. She climbed into the car somewhat bewildered and couldn't help but glance sideways at Dorian. "What do you do for a living?" Over the past year in the UK, Luana had never seen Dorian go to work. Why was everyone now addressing him as Mr. Lamont upon their return? Dorian raised an eyebrow, his tone tinged with arrogance. "I'm an architect." The driver turned his head and added, "Mr. Lamont is an internationally renowned architect, ranked second in the world."

His presence was commanding, almost regal, and there was something about him that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. “Who the hell are you?” Fiona demanded, her voice sharp and defensive. The man smiled, a cold, calculating smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “My name is Dorian,” he said smoothly. “And I’ve been waiting for you.” Before we could react, the shadows around us began to shift and swirl, closing in like a tidal wave. The trap had been sprung.

He wore no mask. Dorian Vale. She knew the name like she knew the names of galleries that never answered her emails. Private. Expensive. Untouchable. Rumor said he owned three buildings, a wine label, and more secrets than any man should own alone. He stood when she entered. Tall. Clean lines. No jewelry. Shirt open at the throat. His eyes were not the kind that hunted. They measured. “Put the camera on the table,” he said. Aria did. The strap slid from her fingers like a surrender.

Not disturbing at all. Wolves lined the walls…dozens of them, maybe more, all in human form, all watching with those eerie glowing eyes. The air was thick with power, with anticipation, like the whole fortress was holding its breath. And in the center of it all, standing on the dais, was Dorian. He’d changed too. Gone were the casual clothes from earlier. Now he wore black leather pants and nothing else, his chest bare, those binding tattoos stark against his skin. His hair was loose, falling around his face, and his eyes…