Edward Cullen Full Body 소설 & 이야기

Ariadne steels herself, gaze moving down to the bed where her best friend lays still. He's got a big bandage around his head, hair gone, most of it shaved off. Edward's eyes are closed, a respirator in his mouth, pushing the air in and out of his lungs so he doesn't die. His arms are lined with IV needles, and he looks so small and breakable that Ariadne wants to cry. "Everyone," the White Wolf hisses. "Get out." “Ariadne,” Calvin tries, but Ariadne snarls at him.

Elle The man Aaron called earlier is named Cillian. He's tall and looks more like an extinguished gentleman than the kind of man who disposes of dead people for a living. He's dressed in a dark charcoal coat, gloves, and neatly polished shoes as he walks into the room looking more like death in a tailored suit with each step he takes closer. His gaze darts around the room, barely lingering anywhere for too long before finding my uncle's lifeless body slouched against the wall.

“Let’s use every minute.” Eden climbed up onto the table, not bothering with the top sheet, laying with her head sideways on the table so she could watch me as I quickly put my oil bottles back into their holsters on my belt. Her bare back and legs looked sleek and smooth, and I couldn’t help comparing her to Mrs Killian from earlier - they were both beautiful women, but built differently. Rachel Killian was fit and voluptuous in the way that a woman could hold onto her body fat in the right places with weightlifting, while Eden was yoga-and-CrossFit athletic. She wasn’t super skinny, and her mid-thirties body showed little hints that she’d had her child, but she was still sexy as hell.

He released Elena’s hip and spun around, his face paling as the heavy double doors of the east wing swung open. Killian Cross stood in the archway. He had discarded his suit jacket, wearing only his dark trousers and an unbuttoned charcoal vest that did nothing to hide the massive, lethal breadth of his shoulders. His dark, obsidian eyes were fixed entirely on Julian’s hand, a terrifying, lawless violence simmering just beneath his composed surface.