Lars Brygmann Novels & Stories

VICTORIA I kept staring a second longer until a folder was placed on my lap. “Read through the agreements so you know if everything’s okay,” Mr. Dante whispered, and I snapped out of it, realizing the meeting had already started. From our side, in the dark, I watched the signs on the screen while the interpreter relayed them to Lorenzo. He said he apologized for not attending. “I wasn’t expecting you. I was expecting your father. Patriarch Dmitri Brona is the one I’ve always made deals with,” Lorenzo shot back without a shred of respect.

“So now you’re a vampire?” “No…” He made a disgusted face as I forced him to eat sour heads. Oh God, were vampires real too? “Don’t compare me to those leeches. Normal werewolves age, but we are mixed with Lycan blood. They don’t age.” He smiled. “Hence Dane looks like a young hunk.” He laughed. I threw my hands in the air. “You know what… I don’t give two fucks what you are. Just leave me the hell alone and tell me where Kara is!” I demanded, trying to walk past.

This reputation of his feared Magnus to the core. Inside the room is Larsen standing by the window and staring out into nothingness while his brother, Elia, who reeks of alcohol, sits on the sofa. The two brothers had nothing in common; Elia is 5'6, shorter unlike the tall Larsen, and he has smooth black curly hair, unlike Larsen with a black temple fade haircut. Elia has grey eyes, and his attractive features make it so easy for him to attract women, but it's nothing like Larsen's, who makes women fall to his feet just by his presence in the room.

I spun on my heels to get a look at the source of the voice "You were thinking out loud." "I spent over a thousand hours on that painting." The voice continued "E.A.D?" The words left my lips as I stared at the letters at the bottom of the painting "It's an acronym for Eugene Ari Darian." "Greek?" I scoffed, genuinely amused "A greek god actually," he corrected, arrogance clear in his tone with his head held up high "You are arrogant, you know that right?" I asked, not the least bit impressed "Okay, I'm sorry if I've been rude." His attempt at an apology was weak-hearted, he didn't mean it and I could sense it

“No idea what you’re talking about. About the northeastern quadrant patrol–” Lars’ deep, accented voice says, “Javi is right.” Normally he ignores Javier whenever he tries to get a rise out of me, since it never works. Until now. And now Lars is actually getting up from his chair to investigate. Damn it. The giant Norwegian blond comes closer to me, peering at me with bright blue eyes. “He’s right. You’re… glowing.” I frown. “Are both of you high? I don’t fucking glow.”

She shoves Magnus with whatever she has left, and he crashes straight through the window. I want to laugh in relief! My eyes are brought back to Brandt, as he lands a good punch on Lars’ jaw and grabs the Baselard from the floor. He turns back to me, eyes so red, they’re black. Raging. This is it. I’m going to die and it’s going to be Brandt that lands the mortal blow. How anticlimactic. Nah, fuck this shit. I can’t go like this. I am Rasmus Caspar Erik Lyksborg.

It was as if my brain had somehow disconnected from my body, and I was now only a spectator unable to wield a single muscle. “Balthazar.” Garren snarled. ***

Gunnar daunted, licking his lips. "Don't do it, Astor," Braxton sneered. "I don't have to if you tell me what I want to know," Gunnar looked completely unfazed when as he winded a hand behind me and slowly began to lower my zip that kept my dress to my body, "Tick, tock."

MAXWELL MURRAY A young man is seen sitting before a swimming pool. A pipe was hung in his lips which he held at intervals and dragged smoke out. He is starring into the water and across it. But in reality he was staring into blankness. His facial features are hardened and his thoughts deep.