Emmet X Rex Novels & Stories

he said. “Thank you,” I replied, and it was as if he sensed the awkwardness between us. He didn’t say anything else. Instead, he just raised the glass of wine in his hand as a sign of congratulations and then left. He might be the smartest, well, second smartest next to Vincent that is, but Emmet is the weakest in the emotional category. At least for Vincent, he could see emotions. But for Emmet. It was as if something in him had died. Something that cut all the emotions out of his body.

"I am here with some of her belongings as usual. Come and have a look at it." Ema heard the voice and recognized it as that of her husband's friend, Xavier. She smiled at herself knowing the kind of good clothes Emily does wear and now Xavier is bringing it to her in return for drink or money. She wonders which of the two he is going to request for today but no matter what, the two are always available. "I'm coming..." She replied from within. "I am doing something but I'll join you in a short time now, you can have your seat while waiting for me."

Not again; he definitely wouldn't be able to take another rejection from her. "Micetta, is something wrong?" He asked tentatively, his emerald green eyes piercing into her eyes. Reina let out a soft sigh as her gaze lingered on Xavier’s striking features. The intensity of his eyes that seem to pierce through her, igniting a whirlwind of emotions within her.

Bellatrix shouted, scrunching a handful of documents. “Me too.” I added. Emmett’s eyes widened, face paling as he read over another journal constructed of red leather. “No fucking way, he has truly lost his mind.”

Emma turned, her hands trembling, the voice seemed familiar, tugging at the edges of her memory, but the swirling haze made it impossible to see. The ground beneath her feet was uneven, littered with shards of glass, chunks of debris, and the scorched remains of what once were lives. "Emma!" The voice called her name again and this time, it was sharper and more desperate. She squinted, her eyes burning from the smoke, through the haze, she could make out a figure, a man, his silhouette outlined by flickering flames, it was Jaxon. "Jaxon." She screamed, her voice raw with panic, she tried to move toward him, but her legs felt like lead, the closer she got, the farther away he seemed.

After, in the evening, Jax made food and people gathered and the talking happened the way it always happens after, the particular combination of grief and remembrance and the specific relief of ordinary conversation that is not avoiding the fact of loss but rather existing alongside it. Emmet came to find me outside after an hour. He stood beside me and looked at the territory. "He would have wanted to see the eastern work," he said. "He would have wanted to see the forty-one found." "Yes," I said. "But he finished his cross-reference," Emmet said. "Yes," I said. "He did." Emmet was quiet for a moment. Fifteen years old, with the Ground's frequency in his attention and seven weeks of boundar

As I watched, he shifted again and Dex was now in his place, kneeling next to me. Get his shirt off, he mind linked me. I tugged at it, scared because Emmett was so white and still. Dex leaned forward and began licking Emmett’s wounds with his huge tongue. As I watched, the skin began knitting itself back together. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” I said, worriedly. Dex said nothing, just continued to lick, much like a dog grooming another. I stayed next to Emmett, holding his hand and trying not to cry.