Jace Norman Age Novels & Stories

I reply. “So you’re 19,” she says, her tone almost condescending. I raise an eyebrow. “That’s how age works, yes.” The tension thickens instantly. Arabella presses on, undeterred. “Jace is 28.” Is she trying to make a point? “Right,” I say dryly. “So, do you want to know how old he was last year, or have you figured out the concept of time?” Jace snorts and looks down, amused. A random shopper walks between us, completely oblivious to the charged atmosphere, whistling as he splits our tense group.

The thought of my three youngest kids in the car does spurn me into action. Our oldest two will be meeting us there. They are both in college at Hamlet University. Jace, who is now twenty-one is a med student who is following in his aunt's footsteps. Macy is a freshman at nineteen and she still hasn't decided what she wants to do yet. Her mother keeps telling her that there is plenty of time and that she doesn't have to have all of the answers right now.

” She laughed and then tried ducking into her skirt. Nora couldn't help but giggle, who was this little girl talking about. Then her eyes hit him and her heart fluttered like a butterfly who had just found its wings. A slightly older Jace came running across the garden, his hair showing signs of age as it was streaked with the most stunning silver. His eyes had the slightest touch of crows feet as he slowed down and walked towards Nora. He grinned widely as the little girl ducked further into Nora’s skirt. It took a second for Nora to realize he was wet.

I found out that Jace was only eighteen years old but had already been chosen to be high ranked warrior. I was impressed with his skills; we had a training session together along with Taylor and Eli. He was strong for his age, his wolf larger than most. I had been in regular contact with Gabriel and Kennedy, Grace and Julian had been staying on his territory. I had found myself on the phone to him every night, talking for hours before I would go to bed. I couldn't help but want to talk to him, finding myself missing his voice once the call ended. Eli had moved into Taylor's room next door while Jace took the room adjacent to mine. Jace knocked on my room religiously at 9 o'clock every mornin

I am not going to attach my feelings to any hunter now. I got up and stormed out of his room to my room. I can't keep my cool now. "Why does he always say the things that hurt me the most? I thought that after so many years, he would have changed, but no, he is still the same douchebag that knows nothing but to hurt me mentally, emotionally, and physically." When his words rang in my ears again, a few tears slipped from my eyes. Jace is five years older than me. He is 29, and he was one of my trainers when I was living with the hunters. His quality of observing everything led him to know about me the most, but I hate him for the same reason. He always has the exact words to hurt me.

What was his idol doing in their house, inside their living room, sitting on the couch. He feels like screaming but he is mature now. That's right, Jace has gotten taller and more manly, he's now twenty two and is in his final year of school, he still looks handsome too. "Kids" Hannah called the twins and they looked at her. "Follow Brenna upstairs to go shower and change," she said. Madison pouted, "But mom, I still want to talk to daddy" Madison grumbled and Jace's eyes widened. Did she just say daddy?

His home was a pictorial representation of their rich history and all the things that they had stored with every passing generation. The werewolves of Belmont Falls were a proud clan who protected their own with their lives. He had run from his duty for far too long. He knew that the messenger was coming when he felt that surge of power coursed through his veins. He was the first born son of three. He had a brother and a sister. Jace was twenty eight years old now. He had not seen his family in over ten years and he wasn't sure these were the best circumstances to see them.

Isra had cleared the room. The Grand Architect, now in her late sixties with hair like spun snow, was sitting on the stone floor near the center of the room. Sitting opposite her was a boy. Jace was ten years old. He had the dark, messy hair typical of the northern mountain packs, and he was wearing a simple wool tunic. But he wasn't sitting like a child. He was sitting in a state of absolute, rigid focus. Both of his small hands were pressed perfectly flat against the flagstones.