Gildarts Clive Novels & Stories

“Finding hard to believe, eh?” I found myself walking toward him. My brows still were drawing together. “Have we—” I laughed softly. “Your accent,” I pointed out. “I heard a lot about you, Arella Rogue. Well, American people say, a drunken man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts. So that’s probably all true, yeah? Clyve Clifford Linton, by the way.” He offered a handshake. “Hi! nice to meet you, Clyve.” Wait a minute, Clyve? Clyve Linton? Holy crap! I scanned his face after the short and warm handshake.

And before you say no, hear me out first. I waited with an eyebrow arched, for him to talk. "It was from Clive Anderson." Silence greeted my father's statement. "From Iron Gates?" I screeched, my stomach twisting at my father's nod and he winced at how high my voice was. Well, if they were presenting a female version of Clive to him, I'm sure his reaction would be the same. Clive Anderson was an Alpha in his own right but he was a disgusting human being.

My Luna. But now, standing here, faced with the reality that Claire was not just an ordinary agent but the head of the very agency that had become my second family, a profound sense of duty washed over me. The shock gradually transformed into a fierce determination, a willpower to rescue her from Zack’s clutches, the cunning mastermind who sought to manipulate and control her for his own sinister purposes.

"I’ll stay here. Claire, can you sit still for twenty minutes?" Claire blinked, looking up from her pill bottles. "Me? You want to draw me?" "I've drawn the oak trees three times," Evelyn said, her fingers already getting smudged with black dust as she prepped the charcoal. "And Arthur keeps looking like he’s about to give a speech to a group of bankers. Your face is more interesting today." Claire laughed, leaning her chin on her hand and striking an exaggerated, dramatic pose. "Make sure you get my good side. The London paparazzi always miss it."

"Really? That is the pathetic game you want to play with me? Denial?" "It is not a game, and I am not in denial about anything." I bent gracefully to collect the broken champagne flute, using the movement to steady my racing heart and buy precious seconds to think. "My name is Evangeline Northcrest, and I have absolutely no idea who this Seraphine person is supposed to be. Perhaps you have mistaken me for someone from your past?" "Evangeline." He tasted the name slowly, like poison coating his tongue. "How incredibly creative of you. Very sophisticated. Tell me, Lady Evangeline, do you often crash parties under false pretenses and fake identities? Is this a hobby of yours?"