Johnny Storm Novels & Stories

Intentions that, like the coveted brass ring, were always just a few inches beyond our reach of understanding. If I was going to walk away from my career over this, I needed to know why. I’d made up my mind to confront her, to try and get some answers out of her. I just had to get her alone, without her watchdog there to get in my face. I was in the middle of working out just how to go about doing that when Johnny and Camilla strolled through the hotel lobby. I almost didn’t recognize him. Johnny’s long hair was dirty, and his shirt—a faded Opeth tee—had several holes along the lower hemline. He looked like what I imagine Layne Staley did in his final days before his heroin overdose.

Time is what she can give to Storm, for now, he is still fighting the demon's in his heart. "Don't force words into my mouth Juno, I will say it when I want to, besides you are not leaving my side," Storm said, closing the distance between them and putting his arms on her hips; and he knows that excited her. "You are mine so there are many days, places and times that I can say the words to you." he added and placed a brief kiss on her forehead and continued staring at her. Juno melted at the words Storm had told her. She was his. 'Mine', the words keep ringing in her head.

"What... what happened here?" Johnny's labored breaths punctuated the heavy silence, his once-vibrant spirit now dimmed by the specter of mortality. His eyes, clouded with the weight of impending departure, sought Asmo's gaze, conveying a profound sense of sorrow and resignation. "It was... Satan," Johnny's voice, a mere whisper, trembled with the weight of his revelation. "He... he did this." Asmo's features contorted with a potent mix of sorrow, fury, and grim determination. The revelation of Satan's malevolent presence in their midst cast a pall of profound apprehension over the dire circumstances that had unfolded.

When loose his hair sets just an inch below his shoulders. With his high cheekbones, golden skin, and black hair the Native American Heritage his father left him with is prevalent, he just has Ladia’s blue eyes, though his are more grey. Storm is a gorgeous man, which is part of why I am attracted to him. However, he just isn’t one of my Chaos Boys. When I’m done I hear Jase mutter ‘finally’ with a huff. I look at him with my hands on my hips. “Get you’re drunk rear-end to bed, Jase Orion.”

“That’s a negative. Rather you bug out with your own team in an hour. In the meantime, let Donnie and I work with what we have. Get some rest—you look like shit and won’t be any use to Lizzy if you can’t function. Besides, this place will be a circus when Ambassador Clark arrives.” Johnny looked torn. Max hoped the big man took his advice. *** Johnny stood in the center of the sand road. Sweltering heat shimmered in waves above the baking earth. The bush hummed in a rhythm, surrounding him with the constant buzz of African survival. He turned and walked down the road—alone in his pursuit. He’d outpaced the other teams, drawn to this place that almost called his name. A twig snapped, and he s

And now, here they were. “Shit.” “Johnny. Watch your mouth.” She glanced over her shoulder into the backseat. “What’s wrong?” The old Gameboy she’d bought for him at a thrift store in Clifton Heights warbled. Arcs of light from the tiny screen played across Johnny’s forehead, accentuating the angles of his nose and cheeks, flaring in the hollows under his eyes. “Only two lives left. Thing’s fuckin’ hard.” She faced forward and squinted at the rain-blurred road. “Don’t swear, honey. It’s crude.”

He hissed and drank his tea with one sip as he bent up his head while drinking it so fast. “We are going with my newest cruise…” Johnny threw his sight outside the open door. He rose and stood in front of the door. His two hands were clenched together in backside. “You mean ‘We’? Are you in?” Angelo curled his nose. His eyes were widened in a big surprise. He sniffled and looked at Johnny’s back who was wearing an upper outfit like a kimono model. Johnny beamed and gave his quick nod. “I want to see Fred Tiger face and Irène for the last time before we are going to make a deal!” He answered with his cold tone.

he grumbled, hauling himself to his feet. "If you reject me without preparations, heck, if any of us reject each other without proper preparations then we are both fucked. We'll lose our minds literally." I snapped immediately. Storm scoffed, brushing dirt off his shirt like I hadn't just warned him about losing his damn mind. "I am already losing my mind, maybe that's better than whatever this shit is," he muttered. I took a step closer. "We aren't full adults yet, you wouldn't last two hours, Storm. You’d claw your own throat out before you even made it back to town."

We watched as the whole pack was finally able to breathe its own freedom, proud rogues who finally belonged. Storm saw Oliver and pointed, delighted. “Wing man!” he declared, earning a surprised laugh from Oliver that looked strange and right on his stern face. Jenna knelt—careful, practiced—and Storm threw his arms around her neck. “Na-na,” he said into her hair, muffled and sure. Jenna’s eyes filled with tears. She held him for a long breath and then gave him back to me with pat-pats that tried to be composed and failed with grace.

The image of the two men begging for their lives before he had silenced them were still very fresh in my memory and the very fact that he even had a gun on him all the while made me shudder. Who was Lucas Storm? Why did he keep a gun with him? Who were the men that had attempted to kill him? Why did they make such a daring attempt at a public place? Tons of questions flooded through my mind and I knew that no matter what, I wouldn’t be able to answer as much as a single one of them. I did a quick sign of the cross and thanked mother Mary for giving me the courage to run away from him. He was too dangerous for me.