Duck In A Raincoat Mga Nobela at Kwento

I hesitated before nodding, whispering, “Yeah… I’d like that.” We stepped outside into the cool air where the rain had finally stopped, leaving everything slick and shining. Though the rain was gone, I still felt an immense cold and began shivering. “So sorry, I forgot.” Darlington ran inside and handed me a large coat. “I realized you were cold. It might not be your exact fitting. I don’t keep random women’s clothes around, but this coat should work.” I smiled at his honesty while he grinned, helping me put it on, and we left.

Rome glanced up at the sky, then turned around and went back inside to buy an umbrella. I stayed outside, waiting, the rain misting lightly against my face as I stood under the store’s awning. “Wait here. I’ll get the car,” he said, opening the newly bought umbrella. I nodded as he crossed the road toward where the car was parked. Left alone, I stood quietly watching the rain fall. The rhythmic tapping of droplets on the pavement felt strangely calming. Then a thought crossed my mind. What does it feel like? Without thinking too much, I slipped the coat off my shoulders and stepped out from the shelter.

He didn't move again. The screeching birds disappeared as fast as they came, only to be replaced by torrential rains and thick fog. Impressed as I was by this skill, I hated water and the rain pelting my fur burned when it landed on me. I ran down the slippery tree trunk and shifted. All my time in trees at home had given me loads of practice with my claws so I was able to descend safely. Thankfully I had tied a long sleeved t-shirt to my hind leg so I was able to keep from having the rain burning my human skin. Ducking under a rock ledge, I tried my own hand at manipulating the weather. I imagined winds driving the rain away from me and mentally pushed. To my surprise it worked! The r

Two big utility vehicles had blitzed through the brush, leaving deep, wet ruts already filling with rainwater. And there, standing right in the middle of the dark trail about fifty yards away, I saw a single silhouette. The figure wore a long black trench coat, waterproof and hooded, pulled low to shield against the downpour. In their right hand, they held a small iron box, wrapped in greasy oilcloth, smoking and blackened by fire, but the titanium latch was still solid. The third anchor. "Drop the container!" I yelled, stopping short in the muddy trail, hands clenched into fists as I held my ground. Rain poured harder, washing soot down my face in angry streaks. "It’s over! The marshals are

Chapter 12. BAD NEWS Rain poured down heavily over the land of Dundee. Each drop followed by another, making it sound like a rhythm if listened keenly. The outpouring of the rain made the sky darker than it should be at that time of the day. Water flowed down the half empty gutters washing it over and over again. As if merciless, the rain poured down heavier drenching people under it including the man on a big brown coat that made his way to a house.

Even through the heavy layers of her coat, she could feel her heart slamming against her ribs, wild and uncontainable. Back in Obsidian City, the downpour continued to hammer the estate. Dominic had been standing motionless on the terrace for a long time. His left hand held a cigarette, the faint orange ember shielded against the freezing gusts by his open palm. Rainwater struck his knuckles, shattering into tiny, cold beads across his skin. He had not worn a coat. The rain had completely soaked through his black suit, matting his dark hair against his forehead, streaming down the hard lines of his jaw. His grey eyes, beneath the flash of lightning, were cold and numb.

Smith's voice. I unlocked the door with relief. The door opened to reveal Mr. Smith's soaked head. I was about to tell him to come in quickly when I suddenly saw his expression of panic. I suddenly became alert and looked up sharply. Then I noticed a guy in a black raincoat standing behind Mr. Smith. The black raincoat almost melted into the dark hallway, and water continued to drip from the hem of his coat, converging into a wet puddle at his feet. I was so scared that my heart almost stopped.

Dark hair, dark eyes, wore ocean blue slacks and white button up, tucked in. “I don’t think so.” As if he knew his name was on the tip of our tongues, the young man stood up and made his way over to Jordan and I. I recognized the way he walked, and as he got closer, a soft smile showed on his face, I remembered his lips. “It’s really nice to see you again,” the beautiful man started, “Raine.” He spoke my name. Do. Not. Panic.