Novelas y relatos de Lucian Books And Wine Reviews

she explained, losing herself. "I do know." Lucian mused. It was the exact reason he worked so hard to be a history professor and he was already so close. One more step and he would be. But he wasn't going to tell her that now, was he? "So, Punic wars?" "Oh I have heard of the Punic wars, between the Romans and the Carthaginians right?" "Yeah, according to human history," He corrected, rising from his seat. "Hu-human history?"

"Did David enroll you in some training program?" He was getting too convincing with his words. She almost forgot how miserable she was when he poisoned her with his words back then. Calista didn't like to drink, and she didn't know how to appreciate wine. However, once she tasted this two thousand dollar red wine, she could taste the bold and earthy wine. It was just as the advertisements had claimed. The wine was rich, aromatic, and smooth, with a lasting fragrance. It was the taste of money. Lucian said, "No, but after pursuing you for so long and failing so many times, as long as I put my heart into it, I can figure out how to make you like me."

So, she says, "Well, he is a harbinger of misfortune and I've seen shit up close. Starting with his apprenticeship with Kohl." Adam chuckles at her, turning his head to look at the Master-Pupil duo indulged in a great, interested conversation with the wine vendor. As Lucien opened a bottle that was gifted by the vendor, he closed his eyes and took a deep sniff out of the aged wine. It was pure red in color from the glass. It felt to him as though he's become a vampire for it, craving for the blood-red liquid from the bottle.

I confided, “though I was more into non-fiction and medical textbooks.” He laughed, making me realize just how dark this night had been. I was glad to forget for at least a few minutes all that had happened in the woods. “Well,” Lucian said, walking over, “you’ve certainly put that to good use, Doctor.” He stood next to me, inches away but not trying to touch me, and we looked at the books together in silence. Maybe I was just overtired, but there was something new about the vibrations passing between us. “You’re welcome to borrow anything, if you’d like,” Lucian said, leaning his head towards me but not looking at me. “My door is open, anytime.”

The late sunlight spilled through the windows, painting gold over the wood. It felt like stepping into another world. A colder one. I walked to the bookshelf, scanning the titles. Politics. Pack histories. Strategy. Economics. Of course. I sighed, sliding my fingertips along the spines, hoping for a hint of softness, something romantic. Maybe a love story tucked away. Or even one of those dark, forbidden romance books where love and ruin intertwined, something that mirrored the madness between Lucian and me. But the rows offered no such comfort. I chuckled quietly to myself. “Of course not. Lucian probably thinks romance books are a waste of time.”

"When you offered yourself to be marked, what happened? And the drink... my aunt gave it to us, but you were the one who pushed me to swallow it. Now you're playing hard to get? Is this another one of your Harvey games?" His lips crashed onto mine before I could answer. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was drenched in hunger and anger. I wanted his lips, I really did, but his words were like silver daggers cutting through my skin. He thought I was manipulating him. I broke the kiss, gasping for air, my breath raspy and loud in the quiet room. "I didn't know the wine was that strong... I thought it was just sweet wine!" "You think I'm a fool? You think I'd believe that?" Lucian growled. He leaned

My throat dries. Lucien moves between the desks now, eyes shifting, taking stock. “You’ll notice the powerless often see the clearest. They learn how to read the room. How to survive. Sometimes they bend power without anyone noticing—until it’s too late.” He passes my row. Doesn’t stop. Doesn’t look. Returns to the board. “This,” he continues, tapping the board once, “is a list of lovers.” He writes four names in quick succession: Damon Salvatore. Edward Cullen.

He was taunting me on purpose. Fuck it. “Are you drunk?” I snapped. Lucian raised an eyebrow. “What?” But that damn smirk didn’t drop. Why did he have this effect on me? Why was I the one acting like a needy bitch while he just sat there, smug and calm? “You’re drunk,” I accused. “That’s why you’re talking like this.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “Oh?” He wasn’t denying it. “You’re fucking drunk,” I repeated again, mostly to convince myself. “That’s it.”

Enraged more than she thought possible, Luci was up on her feet before she could control herself. “You beast! You despicable beast. How dare you? How dare you sit there royally trying to justify your rubbish to me?” And before she knew it, she was dumping the content in her wine glass in his face and as if transfixed, she watched in slow motion as the red wine dribbled down his eyes, to his face and all the way down to the impeccable blue suit he was wearing and something told her she might live to regret this spontaneous reaction of hers.