Jonathan Crane X Reader Mga Nobela at Kwento

I asked, chuckling. Crystal I laughed to myself as I read the newspaper article. ‘VOTERS VOTE ON WHETHER TO VOTE’ People are crazy as hell. I was actually entertained by it. I flipped the page to the celebrity gossip section—only for it to be snatched right from my hand. I turned around to see Draven standing there with that infuriating smirk. “I was reading that,” I said, trying to grab it back. “You can read?” he asked, pretending to be shocked. “Draven, give it back.” “Well… I’m reading it now. So go get me a cup of tea. That’s your job now, isn’t it?” he said, plopping into the seat I’d just been in. I noticed the marks on his neck—hickeys. I tried my best to ignore them. “If none of you

come home tomorrow night,” he says, voice flat and final, “don’t knock on my door.” He walks out. The door clicks shut. I stand in the middle of my room, thighs pressed together, his handprint still warm on my throat, my body wound tighter than when I started, and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes and just breathe. He doesn’t get to do that. Come in here and put my fingers in his mouth and press himself against me and say he can’t stop thinking about me and then walk out like it’s a warning. Like I’m supposed to cancel my plans and wait around in case he decides to stop being a coward. I drop my hands. Look at the door. Look at my phone with Tyler’s text face up on

Vivian POV The streetlights flicker as I hurry home, Tyler Grayson’s words clawing at my mind like a song I can’t unhear. “You’re not what you think you are.” What does that even mean? My sneakers slap the pavement, the rhythm too fast, too frantic, matching the hum buzzing under my skin. It hasn’t stopped since I left the field, that strange, electric pulse that feels alive, like it’s trying to break free. I’m Vivian Harper, the girl who fades into the background at Westbridge High, not someone with secrets worth cryptic warnings. But as the sky darkens, the air heavy with the scent of rain and something wilder, I’m not so sure.

Rhaena's POV The knowledge that I could affect him so strongly, that two simple words from me could shake his control like this, sent a rush of power and arousal through me. Then I calmly, deliberately set my phone down on the table. I picked up my fork with a steady hand that belied my racing heart. And I took another bite of pancakes, acting like nothing had happened, like I hadn't just agreed to present myself naked and submissive for his pleasure, even though my heart was pounding and I was already aching for him.

November 27th My name is Leyanne Cruden, I have graced these lands for what feels like an eternity, although compared to humans I guess I have lived that. I have persevered through some of the worst and best decades and now I find myself in present day, the 2020’s. I keep this journal wherever I go to record my thoughts and feelings, my memories, so that my mind can let go of the mundane yet never lose a way to reminisce because I have lived hundreds of lifetimes. I hope that one day all that remains of me are these memories and I would have finally found peace in death, although it seems unlikely.

Chapter 4 Elena’s POV “Mr. Hale, we can’t keep pretending this is just mentorship anymore,” I said as soon as I locked the penthouse door behind me that night, my voice shaking a little but my body already burning for him. Weeks of this slow torture had finally snapped something inside me. I walked straight to his desk where he sat reviewing files, my heels echoing loud in the quiet space. Marcus looked up, his gray eyes darkening the second they landed on me. He pushed his chair back and stood, towering over me as he closed the distance in two strides.

She read and read, knowing that she shouldn’t. It was definitely her mom’s. Caitlin’s journal. But this was not the Caitlin she knew. This was Caitlin as a young girl. As a teenager. She was mesmerized, turning the pages. It talked of falling in love with a man named Caleb. Having a daughter named Scarlet. Of becoming a vampire. Her mom. A vampire. Changing. Transforming. Having hunger pangs. A sensitivity to light. Super strength. Wanting to feed on others. Just like her.

I finally completed my statement, my voice a bit firmer, and he raised his eyes, releasing a deep breath. He tossed the document onto the sofa and took slow, deliberate steps over to me, something dark flashing in his eyes. His clenched fists, tight jaw, and brooding eyes, it was obvious that he was trying to hold back, and it did nothing but arouse me. Every step he took sent shivers down my spine, spiking my excitement and making my pussy drip juices that soaked my panties. The tension was thin, our lust was thick, and even though I hadn't put in an effort not to, I found myself craving for the man that I've been told to avoid.. a man rumored to be a heartless killer.

“Hmm, I think it was by something Sharpsbury.” “Oh Adriata Sharpsbury. She’s wonderful. Very prolific. We only carry her “Frostgarden” collection but I have a pretty good relationship with her publisher, if you’re interested in her other works.” “Don’t you also carry that new book? That purist one?” Eclipse’s mate interrupted. “What’s the author’s name? Crayton, Crishton-” “Crichton,” Janessa supplied. “Crichton, that’s it. I’m surprised that you would carry such drivel,” he said snidely. Eclipse’s eyes darted to Trick, knowing her mate was stepping on to thin ice.

"What was that? Elle, all I heard was Jace. What the hell is wrong with you, Elle? you know I hate cliffhangers," "I'm sorry, let me make it clear," she nodded, "Jonathan Christopher -" I stopped. "Yes? Go on," Hera commanded. I took a deep breath and continued. "Jonathan Christopher is Jace De Leon. " I finally let it out with a whiff of fresh air.