Jordan Bleimeyer Novels & Stories

"I can talk to him for hours about literally nothing and not get bored. His laugh that he doesn't show a lot, it's deep and beautiful and his eyes light up when he's genuinely laughing. He calls me Bloom like it's my real name and it makes me feel special to him because he's the only one who can call me that otherwise it won't feel right. Every time he stands so close to me and I just feel like I'm going to melt. He cares about me so much, he'll hardly let me drive alone and will give me a ride even if I have my car. He always makes sure I get home safe. When he gets bored while I'm trying to tutor him and starts throwing random things like erasers or pillows or chips at me and will start to

“Nathan.” “I’ve got your update,” Nathan said, calm and professional as always. “Started with Jordan, like you asked.” Kingsley leaned back, voice tight. “Talk to me.” “Jordan Pierce. Thirty-eight. Lives in Brooklyn. Self-made. Runs a consulting firm—nothing that touches your family’s level of money, but he’s doing well for himself. Very well, actually. Owns the building his company is in. Drives a Tesla. Paid off.” Kingsley grunted. “So he’s not a scrub.”

Beneath the well-cut suit and determined jaw was the same kid who’d grown up in Boulder, the one who refused to quit, even with his knee in pieces and the whole sport seemingly moving on without him. The ESPN crew buzzed with energy. Cables snaked across the carpet, lights blazed, and a wall-mounted camera pivoted to catch the best angle. Center stage, Jordan Steele stood tall with athletic grace, every bit the broadcast pro—dark hair perfectly styled, suit impeccable, smile wide and easy. His presence filled the room, command and charm in equal measure. Jordan caught Jeremy’s approach, extending a strong handshake and a quick, knowing grin. “Jeremy Davis! Good to finally meet you in person.

“I don’t want to risk losing you again.” “You won’t,” I promised. “But I won’t hide while others bleed to keep us safe. I can help, Liam. You know I can. I know Darius, how he thinks, how he moves. I spent enough time in his cage to understand what he’s planning. He is not alone in how he is working, one can easily tell, but there are those who are also captive under his reign. We are going to need to put a stop to all of this.”

To the right, a picture of Harou himself; In the middle, a picture of Blake with darker eyes in a deep green and hazel; and to the right, a picture of Damian, or as Harou likes to call him, Keiran. Blake nods in disbelief. "This, can't be real. This is . . . . What is this?"

I follow the blonde, evading her hand when she tries to link it through my arm. “Cain, finally.” Darius is sitting at the table next to a blonde boy, but Flame is nowhere to be seen. He gestures to the blonde boy. “This is Damien and I assume you’ve met Gale and Ollie. There’s also Emery and Leila…” He emphasises the last name, as if to remind me that Flame is using her middle name with the humans. “Have just popped upstairs to get their jackets.” “Here.” Gale places a plate down on the table and pats the chair. Some sort of filled tortilla’s are on the plate and they smell amazing.

BLAKE Jordan stays for three hours. We go through my work history, mapping out everyone who might have had access to my credentials, anyone who might have held a grudge. It feels productive in a way nothing has since my arrest, like I'm finally doing something instead of just waiting for the system to chew me up and spit me out. "This David Brennan," Jordan says, scrolling through his phone. "He works at Meridian Consulting now. Corporate ethics division, ironically." "That's pretty vague. What does that even mean?"

Jordan sneered, “I don’t have to think, I’ll tell you one more time, I’ll never let Liam be the chairman! To tell you the truth, I’ve never thought about electing him as the chairman. Even if he saved the Weaver family today, to me, he is nothing but an illegitimate son, a b*stard who was born by the village sl*t without my consent!” Then, he turned to Liam and shouted, “And you, you ungrateful dog! I’ve kept you in our house for so many years is to make you an obedient dog! How dare you covet the chairman position! If I had known how greedy and ungrateful you were, I wouldn’t have brought you back in the first place! I should’ve just thrown you into the lake at the mountain after that woman

I walked outside to spread some clothes and I ran in immediately. Laman stood on the floor, his legs shaking. He had fully shifted into a small wolf pup with blue fur. He was wagging his tail repeatedly while Leo was hailing him, clapping his hands and laughing. The shift had torn his clothes to pieces and a large piece of the crib was laying just beside him. “Laman!” I whispered, carrying him up quickly before anyone would walk past the open door and try to attack him. His little wolf form was warm and soft on my neck. Leo reached for me with his hands, his own eyes flashing

He said, looking away from me, looking at my betas, before turning his attention to me. “What’s your name?” I demanded, stepping closer. “Taylor,” he said, voice low, hoarse. “I knew you’d come. I was waiting for one of you to come, someone to trace the body, someone to try and help.” “Did you bring Caleb back?” His eyes flicked to mine. “No. I stayed away. We all did. We couldn't approach. We saw him being brought to you, but there was a darkness that was around him. It stopped us from approaching.”