Novelas y relatos de Fenrir Harry Potter

“Are you under attack, Fran?” I was able to mirror his smile. “I think we can say so, yeah.” The waiter brought the bill and Harry handed him a black credit card. “How much? I mean, you need me to hold you, kiss you, just rest a casual hand on the small of your back?” “Grab me by the hand to leave.” “That’s subtle.” Harry chuckled softly. “Breathe, Fran. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Or a Haunter. The Haunter Supreme, to be accurate. I was still seeing him. And he was still staring at me, like wishing oh so bad his eyes were knives.

KIRA I have always known seeking refuge by Rhys’s side is a double-edged sword. [Hand over the Petrov princess or die] Grisha is out of his mind. I already knew that when he bit the hand that fed him by turning against Father, but it’s still terrifying what lengths he would go to get rid of a competitor. I don’t want anything to do with the Petrov family, much less become its head. But even if I tell him that, he will never believe me. That man will only rest when I’m six feet underground.

"Smart fox. Any other interesting developments I should know about?" I tilted my head, giving him a smirk of my own. "Are you stalking a slave girl who apparently made it to Crown tier?" He gave me a pointed look, but I caught the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Just making sure my investment is protected." The word 'investment' stung a little, like a sharp small barb wire making a cut. I pushed the feeling aside and told him everything Harrion had said, every detail I could remember. The way his voice had felt pretentious, and how he found any chance for our hands to touch. I watched Riven's expression carefully as I spoke, noting how his jaw tightened when I mentioned Harrison taking

I stared at Fennrick in silence. Seriously… how full of himself was he? However, I couldn’t deny my racing heartbeat. At this point I was convinced Fennrick had hit me with some kind of fae glamour spell. Because I was, unfortunately, just a little obsessed with him. I follow a ridiculous number of hot guy influencers, but none of them—and I mean none of them—looked like this fox fae. Fennrick’s physique walked that razor‑thin line between sensual and elegant. It was a feast for my eyes.

Dan's weight on me was too much and I couldn’t break his grip on me. My legs were pinned by his legs hooked around me and my hands held above my head by his. His breath smelt sweet and unusual; it was sickening. He held his face close to mine when his phone rang in his pocket. He jumped off me and I started screaming. He ran out of the room slamming the door behind him, my screams were pointless. However, it was the first sign of hope. If I could somehow submit to him and get his phone from him, I might be able to reach out.

Brodi huffed out a breath, shocked at his own ineptitude in getting a simple point across. He glanced back up at her and saw a glimmer of humor in her green eyes. She was laughing at him. At him! He sat up a little straighter not sure how to react. The Alpha in him wanted to be insulted and act accordingly, but making his mate happy, even at his own expense, gave him a warm feeling in his middle. He wasn't used to all these conflicting emotions. He cleared his throat before starting to speak again. "Yes, well…" "You know your name is old Norse, yes?" Kelda interrupted. "Fenrir. A son of the god, Loki. It's a very powerful name. A very powerful wolf."

She was trapped. Torin stopped barely a foot away from her, towering over her small, trembling frame. He leaned down, his face a mask of cold, unyielding suspicion, his nostrils flaring as he took in her synthetic scent of honey and berries. Beneath that artificial sweetness, his wolf, Fenrir, was clawing at his mind, letting out a desperate, confusing howl of agony that only made Torin more furious. He thought she was using some form of underhanded magic to manipulate his beast.

He dwarfed even the largest natural wolf Rowan had ever imagined. His coat was midnight black, absorbing the fading light until only his golden eyes seemed to exist. Unlike Fen’s calm, intelligent gaze… These eyes burned. Old hatred. Old grief. Old rage. The black Direwolf smiled. Or at least… That was the only way Rowan could describe the baring of his teeth. “It has been a very long time…” His voice was low. Cultured. “…Fenrir.” Every muscle in Fen’s body tightened. The name struck Rowan like lightning.