Jevil Lines Novels & Stories

I hadn’t focused on his face. It was there, yes, but softer. Less defined. What stood out more was the way he held himself. The tension in his shoulders, the slight tilt of his head, the way his hands rested; like they were steady, but not relaxed. Like he was holding something in. The lines weren’t perfect because I was distracted with… everything. Some of the lines were rough, unfinished. But the feeling was clear. I braced myself for the criticism to come. “Interesting.” Dr. Hale’s voice was softer this time. She stepped a little closer to the sketch on display.

His grip was hard enough to hurt me. "Annie… Annie, I know you're angry right now. But Jess is an artist. That accident overseas nearly ruined her life. Your mother was a perfect match, and she was already at stage four cancer. Her chances of surviving were very low, and Jess's life was just starting out. She couldn't lose her sight… I didn't want to make this choice, but there was nothing else I could do." He spoke quickly, eyes full of urgency, hoping I would understand him like I always used to.

That's unforgivable! Jaime and Ivan flinches when the door of the last car slowly opened. Jobel Lopez stepped out of there on guard. But what fuel the anger of Jaime the most, is the pheromones that Jobel keeps emitting. His sight move to the person inside the car. It's Daveryl, he's unconscious. So that's how Jobel replaced his mark. He did it while Daveryl is unconscious. Jaime see red, red means blood. His anger turned hatred and his hatred leveled up. He.. Wants to kill.

Jovielyn stood, brushing off her sundress, dismayed by the dirt stains. “Damnit, Momma is gonna kill me,” she murmured softly, her tranquil voice catching Virgilio off guard. As she adjusted her dress, he was captivated by her delicate yet shapely legs, picturing his hand encircling her ankle. When their eyes locked, Virgilio was struck speechless. Jovielyn was everything he had envisioned and more. Her vivid sapphire eyes were framed by long, dark lashes, matching her straight, thigh-length hair and enhancing her porcelain skin.

I found them exactly where I knew they’d be: VIP booth, bottle service overflowing, legs draped over laps, the gods of their own private Olympus. Julian sprawled like a king high on his own ego, bourbon in hand, one arm slung over the back of the couch. Elliot was leaned in close to some barely-legal thing in a dress the size of a napkin, whispering filth in her ear while pretending to listen. Predictable. Vile. Perfect. Julian spotted me first. His grin cracked open, too white, too wide. “Well, well. The prince returns.” “Didn’t think you’d show,” Elliot said, peeling the girl off like gum from his shoe. “We figured you’d be balls-deep in your pet by now.”

she said softly. Her voice felt like an anchor. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Ava?” she asked gently. I swallowed. “I did it,” I said. Silence. Not the awkward kind. The listening kind. “And?” she asked quietly. I looked at the stick in my hand again. “Two lines,” I whispered. Her breath caught on the other end. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then she said, “Are you okay?” The question was simple.