Hooked And Sinkered Novels & Stories

She was done shrinking. The marina bar sat at the end of the weathered boardwalk, blue paint peeling, neon sign flickering The Salted Hook. Tessa pushed inside. The place was half-empty in the late afternoon—locals nursing beers, the low thump of an old jukebox, the scent of beer and ocean. Behind the bar stood a man who looked like he had been carved out of the sea itself.

The coordinates led them to a place the maps called Sector Zero, but the locals knew as The Sink. It was a sprawling, multi-level city built into the side of a massive, derelict oil rig, far out in the international waters of the Northern Shelf. Here, the air was a thick soup of diesel fumes, ozone, and salt, lit by the flickering, holographic advertisements of black-market clinics and data-laundering dens.

I hovered at the bathroom doorway, watching Simon freeze in place. His face went from pale to ashen gray, his lips parting and pursing without making a single sound. The once unstoppable Alpha now seemed drained of every ounce of strength as he leaned against the doorframe just to stay upright. Connor's voice pulled him back to reality. "Alpha…" Simon staggered forward, one step after another, until he finally sank to his knees by the bathtub. He reached into the murky water, then drew out a fragment of white bone.

she joked, though her hands were gripping the railing tight. They sealed the hatch. HISS... LOCK. "Dive sequence initiated," Jackson took the pilot's seat. He flipped a series of switches. The crane lowered them into the water. Blue liquid engulfed the windows. Then, they began to sink. Depth: 1,000 feet. The light faded. The blue water turned dark navy. Depth: 5,000 feet. Pitch blackness. The only light came from the sub's exterior floodlights, illuminating strange, pale fish floating by.

Cliche but needed for what they did. They couldn't steal a person's son and put him in an overpopulated place. That's just asking for trouble. "They're not dead, are they?" Kayla asked an important question that just came to her head as she looked in the directiong of the black plastic bags that contained a knocked out person. "Nah, I poked holes in the bag so they'll be able to breathe." Lucas sia das if it was the most casual thing on earth. "What about the elephant in the room?" Kayla asked while pointing in a certain direction.

Her eyes look at them questioning, I can see Jackson never used these with her, but I plan to, not today, but I plan to. “Mmmm, now this would be amazing, these hooks inside you, chains pulling you up, the hooks pulling and causing pain.” Her eyes watching me, clearly not understanding. “Well, let’s see where they go shall we to give you a little idea of how you would be suspended in the air” I slowly push the end of the hook into her sex, she moans slightly, the metal hooking inside her and around the front of her public bone. My hand passes Jackson the other one, my eyes watching her as he pushes it into her arse, again it hooks inside, curling up and around her back. My finger grabs the h

Derek sank his sharp pointy fangs into my neck breaking my skin. I tried not to scream, Instead I bit my lips bearing the pain with my eyes closed. When he retracted back his fangs out of my neck, I fell lax on his arm, my eyes could barely open. The next time I opened my eyes I was back to the middle of the ocean. "Finally I was already getting bored phew" I heard the other Aria's voice and she was floating right in front of me.

He did not pull his hand away. He kept it in the air near her. "I do not care about the energy, June. I care about you. You are shaking. Your nose is bleeding again." June wiped her face with the back of her hand. The blood was a shining purple. "It is the pressure. The ships are pressing down on the air. They are trying to crack my shield." *The Hook: The Falling Star* one of the smaller black ships broke away from the group. It did not come down slowly.

The burning skeleton of *The Leviathan* sank into the Pacific with a low, hissing groan that sounded like the final breath of a dying era. By 0800 hours, the black smoke from the harbor had merged with the gray morning fog, wrapping Blackridge in a heavy, protective shroud. The naval destroyer was gone, its multi-million-dollar hull broken against our concrete reefs, leaving the coast entirely under the unyielding law of the road.

The air inside the pressurized atmospheric suit tasted of recycled copper and stale adrenaline. As the mechanical winch lowered Ethan Hawke into the "Null State" of the Atlantic trench, he felt the "Absolute" weight of the ocean settling onto the titanium joints of his armor. He was no longer a man; he was a "Broken Asset" encased in a diving shroud, a solitary "Data-Point" sinking into a four-mile-deep abyss.