James Bond Novels & Stories

I inquired, chuckling. "Well you might have a bad memory, that's for sure." He snorted, folding his arms. "You are James Bond right?" I asked, ignoring his former remark. He bursted into a frenzy of laughter and sat down on a chair. "Do I look like James Bond? You are really hilarious. My name is James Okafor." He stated, smiling sheepishly. "Well you can't blame me." I replied, lowering my back into a seat. "Wait, you destroyed my meal, so you have to pay for it." He ordered, pointing to the food particles on the floor.

It felt wrong but he would not take anything from me. I headed to the kitchen and made a hot drink. The warmth settled me. My house was too busy for my liking. I offered Logan a drink which he gladly accepted. As we were drinking there was another knock at the door which was unexpected. I froze, gripping my hands against the counter. Logan disappeared and returned a few moments later with someone behind him. “Leah, this is Jack, he does security for us. Jack this is Leah.” Jack was shorter than Logan and a lot stockier. He was muscular and had a shaved head. He reminded me more of an army man than anything else. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his stance screamed military. He stepped f

"The old agreement doesn't count. Alice is the woman I love. Even if we're bonded, I'll never love you!" At the bonding ceremony, Loki Olson stood in formal attire, his face twisted with anger as he roared those words at me in front of all the guests. My wolf spirit, Shadow, spoke inside my mind. "He must've been reborn, too." I lowered my eyes and silently agreed with Shadow. Looking at his face, still young yet painfully familiar, I felt a strange sense of disorientation.

"James, get in here." James was my valet, a long suffering man in his fifties who'd been with the family since before I was born and had apparently drawn the short straw when it came to taking care of me. He appeared in the doorway with the type of silent efficiency that came from decades of dealing with entitled Deveraux men. "Good morning, sir. Shall I help you with your morning routine?" "No, I thought I'd just sit here and meditate. Yes, help me with my morning routine. What do you think?"

Alex's Penthouse – 5:15 AM The scent of gun oil mixed with coffee as James field-stripped his Glock at my kitchen island. The methodical click of metal parts against marble countertop had become a ritual in the weeks since the board meeting, a rhythm as familiar as my own heartbeat. James Mercer—former Special Forces, current head of Lane International security—had moved from employee to something closer to family since the threats began.

“I'm sorry for calling you out like this to tell you the news. I'm aware you’ve not fully recovered, but I didn't have much of a choice since we haven't still been able to identify who the spy is and I wouldn't want him or her listening in on our conversations.” “It's okay, I understand your actions. Now, what else did you want to tell me?” I asked and James kept a stern expression. “It's about the man we are about to see.” James said and I saw him taking out some papers from a suitcase besides his leg. “Here boss.” James hands them over to me and I immediately begin scheming through them. “The man we want to see made a lot of effort to remain anonymous, but I went ahead and did some digging

JAMES “Sakamoto Tomashi,” I said, walking towards him, a drink in hand, the bartender hovering just in front of him. “It’s been a while.” I slid into the seat next to him. The bar wasn’t crowded most people were lost in the music or drowning themselves in their glasses. Sakamoto turned his head to look at me, and that’s when I pulled my gun, pressing the cold metal against his back. He smirked. “James,” he said, with no trace of Chinese in his accent though he looked completely Chinese. “You look like a desperate man. Have you been getting enough sleep lately?”

Despite every survival instinct telling me not to meet up with men I didn’t know personally, I did it anyway. I met James at the movie theater. He as a Warrior, he didn’t have rank, and he was from one of the surrounding packs. He was proud of where he came from and liked what he did. He didn’t want more or less. He was working a job nearby for a short assignment. He wasn’t expecting to be here long. My hands were sweaty and icy as I walked through the theater doors. I saw him instantly. He stood out like a sore thumb. He was glorious, really. Tall, blonde, blue eyes with broad dependable shoulders.

“Bill tells me you’re the best at what you do.” James gives a small smile, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "That’s what he says," he replies, his voice calm, steady. "But my job isn’t about being flashy or noticeable. In fact, if I do my job right, you won’t even know I’m there." I raise an eyebrow. "That’s a little hard to believe. I mean, won’t it be obvious if you’re shadowing me everywhere?" James shakes his head. "Not really. You’ll know I’m around, but I won’t be in your way. My job is to keep an eye on things from a distance unless something happens. You won’t feel watched all the time—unless you need me."

She purred, her fingertips tracing a scorching route down his chest, lighting a fire of want that threatened to swallow him. Caleb's resolve weakened his thoughts a jumble of competing emotions and loyalties. On the one hand, Miranda was his ride-or-die, his accomplice in crime, and the only person who truly understood his ruthlessness. On the other hand, there was an unmistakable attraction to Yuria, a gravitational force that drew him in like a moth to a flame.