Ethan Frome Novels & Stories

At the age of twenty Ethan was a warrior for the Night Stalker pack but was still living at home, watching his father drink and his mind wither. Ethan had grown and bulked out with muscle. His good looks and golden blonde hair made him popular with the ladies and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that he took advantage of that whenever he needed release. He didn’t care that he was defiling someone else’s mate. In fact, it took great pleasure in it knowing that he was these young women’s first, something their mates would never be. Bethany was pretty much useless as far as Ethan was concerned. She was spooked by everything and stuttered whenever she spoke. Thankfully she knew her place, cooking and

Why can’t he pay them to cure Mom? I learned to read novels to Mom back then until she fell asleep. She loves Thomas Hardy, just like Dad. I distanced myself from everything that would remind me of her suffering. This annoying confinement that smelled of alcohol. They tried to hide the irking scent with artificial fragrance from bleach and soap, but it did nothing to my senses. Even from Hardy’s books, I kept a respectful distance because every word, every hard cover, reminds me of her. “Can you direct me where Evan Carter is?” I breathed out at the receptionist. She has a landline trapped on her shoulders and right cheeks. Fingers keep punching on the keyboard.

1913, Revington Manor, London, England The image of that certain dandelion still haunts me to this very day. It has been four days ever since that night happened. My mind has been occupied by Gavin for the rest of week and every time his face appears on my mind, my heart can not control itself. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself as I returned to the pile of contracts and papers I had to sign. I have far more important tasks to finish today and I can not be bothered by a person whom I no longer have any contact with.

Lord Ethan is a Storm believer, the Emmanuel family is one of the nobles who believes in the Lord of Storm. While our family still remained neutral. I don’t have a religion, which works for me. “Droon, do you know the whole poem?” I asked in curiosity, I really want to know the next line. “Hmmm… I don’t really… remember as it… was just song… by the bards… but it goes… like this… “Easy comes, easy go’s. A flower bed, a garden rose. Tress are dancing, wind is gushing. Birds are singing, snakes are grinning.”

Authors pOV Ethan’s car rolled quietly down the familiar streets, the city lights reflecting faintly off the windshield. His mind was focused, but his chest was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened. Charlotte had caused him so much pain, so much humiliation, and yet now he had the opportunity to finally uncover the truth. He parked outside her mansion and took a deep breath, adjusting his shirt and straightening his posture.

"But you know what? You seem strong, Amelia. Stronger than you think." His words resonated within me, a spark of confidence igniting in my chest. "Maybe," I admitted, feeling a little lighter than I had all morning. We talked for what felt like hours, about everything and nothing. Ethan's easygoing nature and witty banter managed to draw a genuine laugh from me, the first one since leaving Eddie's house. As we talked, the minutes slipped by unnoticed. Ethan was a captivating conversationalist, his stories filled with humor and a genuine curiosity about the world. He was an aspiring writer, currently working on a novel set in his hometown, a charming seaside town he described with vivid detai

That's just a small part of the mate bond, the ability to feel and know the heart and head of your beloved. Ethan sensed there was more than just the warning his mother was giving his sister he had heard the stories told by many pack members about the grandfather he never knew and the cruelty of his death. He thought a change of subject was just what his family needed on this unpredictable day, "Hello, does anyone remember me, the first born? You know there just might be some extremely lucky lady who will soon get all of this." He said this as he flexed his bicep showing unbelievable defined muscles that rippled and strained against the bottom of his t-shirt sleeve. At this Emma teased, "You

The strip of red tartan around my neck prevents any further trouble, at least. I eat as much as I can during lunch, so I do not have to stray downstairs after dark when the alcohol comes out and the bagpipe music starts playing. I ignore Isla’s comments, and Vladimir’s leers. And I spend the rest of my days reading, while the anger inside me grows thorns and shoots. Why has Ethan left me? Is he okay? On the third morning, I wake at dawn. The sun has not yet risen, and the air smells strangely like perfume and roses. I slept restlessly and dreamt of Wolves and wilderness and darkness.

What kind of extraordinary son did Ethan produce? ***

The kitchen smelled of ozone, copper, and the lingering, sweet scent of Grandma Elsie’s lavender tea. Outside, the Maine blizzard had turned into a rhythmic, soft patter of snow against the windowpanes—a deceptive peace that mocked the violence of the hour before. Ethan remained on one knee in front of Leo. He looked like a fallen god, his expensive white shirt ruined, his knuckles bruised, and his "piercing blue eyes" wide with a terrifying kind of wonder. He didn't reach out to touch the boy; it was as if he feared the child was a mirage that would dissolve into "dust" if he breached the final inch of space between them.