Grey Morals Novels & Stories

In this case he figured maybe taking a couple of shots doesn’t matter, and it might help him drown the guilt he was feeling inside. Grey wasn’t always the antagonist people see him as, during his courtship with Joan before they even got married he was a very pleasant man. Always so fun to be around, he always thought of others before himself. He was just a hundred percent too selfless; he saw the world not as a complicated place that people saw it. He had what he wanted in mind and he knew he had to work for them, the perfect life, the perfect job and a perfect wife who would give him a beautiful family.

“See? Your heart can’t even withstand my words or comprehend what I have been through all these years. If you cannot bear to hear what my life has been like, how do you expect me to just move on and forget what happened like I never lived it? Grey vowed to make everyone miserable, but somehow, I ended up paying the highest price. You had each other, you, Sara, Kate, and Klaus. You had so many years together before she died. You were all living together in complete bliss. You had twenty four years worth of memories to get you through her loss, through her absence. So many happy, joyful memories that you can remember her by and be able to move on without breaking apart. You had each other to k

Scarlet looked out the window, pretending not to notice, her hand brushing against the flowers still resting on her lap. “You really like parties, huh?” she asked. Grey’s smirk deepened. “No. I like watching people lose control.” Mira gasped, then laughed. “That’s so dark. I love it.” Scarlet shot him a look. “You’re a fucking psychopath.” He tilted his head slightly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Scarlet’s heart did a stupid flip in her chest. Grey’s tone was teasing, low enough to make her skin crawl—in a good way.

Despite myself, his touching and nibbling was driving me crazy. Something that made me all the more furious, because he knew it. I tried to focus on something unattractive about Gray that I could latch onto. But the only glaring thing I could pinpoint was his complete and utter lack of character. He’s evil. Conscienceless and devious. “Why do you want to hear that, Gray?” I said contemptuously. “Does it get you excited.” “No.” He pulled back to give me a long study. “It infuriates me.”

said a man with a hoarse voice. “That’s what I thought too,” intoned another man with a deep voice. “We’d get our money early then.” The hoarse-voiced man snickered. “I don’t know, man.” The deep-voiced man seemed hesitant with his words. “What?” “I got a kid, man. She means the world to me. I’m not really on board with this trafficking thing.” “Oh?” thought Gray to herself. And while listening in on them, she named the hoarse-voice man Evil and the other man Half-evil.

Grey growled, gripping my hips harder before returning between my legs, drawing his tongue through every sensitive spot. My legs wobbled. My body shivered. My skin became feverish. My feelings were a mess. Grey, the powerful Mafia boss, the killer, the one who owned me, was on his knees before me. The sole sight filled me with an odd blend of fear, embarrassment, and wicked excitement.

"Just because you're comfortable displaying them legs and yappin' about it, don't mean someone else is okay with doing the same to their own flaws." The Grey in person was entitled to his name. The man looked like a hazard wearing grey stripped pajamas. His brown hair with white strands was cut close to his scalp and he looked like he hadn't bathe in days. The mustache beneath his nostrils made him look older than he probably was and the beard with a dusting of white hair further enunciated that. "Being comfortable in one's damn skin is not a fucking crime. And losing one's legs in war is something to be fucking proud of." He spat out.

The past many days it has been snowing. Werewolves and violence, werewolves and killing: they are like five and six, they were matched for each other. Moon peak pack was more better her than my pack they were all heartless creatures. I don’t know if I should miss my mom and dad, I don’t know if I should fault them, I miss Jessica more than anything. I sighed, dropping the brown square box on the floor. They were Grey’s clothes, I guess he didn’t need them anymore at wherever the war is that’s why he had left them instead in the box.

"And we see what they want." The two of them moved forward, sticking to the trees and keeping their distance from the group of rebels. As they neared a clearing, Lia spotted them—a group of wolves, their faces weathered and scarred, their eyes sharp with suspicion. They weren’t purebloods. They were Greykin, like her. One of them stepped forward, a woman with silver hair and a black cloak that blended seamlessly into the shadows. Her eyes, like Cassian’s, glowed with a fierce intensity, and she immediately assessed them, her gaze flicking from Lia to Cassian.

I whisper, shaking my head. “Oh?” His smile turns mocking. “Then why hasn’t he told you the real reason he lived with your family? Haven’t you wondered why he keeps so many secrets?” He’s lying. He has to be lying. “Gray wouldn’t do that,” I say, my voice firmer this time. “Because he’s kind? Let’s not fool ourselves, Sammi. Grayson has been killing people for your family for years. You think he’s some noble hero? He’s no saint.”