Lyon By Jordan Silver Novels & Stories

If not, she would have done something much more than issuing out threats. He sighed again and checked his watch. Leah was supposed to be here now. What was keeping her? In a way though, it was a good thing that she wasn’t here yet. He could use this time to collect his thoughts and gather his facts correctly. He could also use some wine. He called on a waiter. “A bottle of Jordan Carbernet, please,” he said. The waiter returned with his order. Lyons nodded at him and began pouring the drink in the glass. He brought the it to his nose, inhaling it gently before taking a sip.

It stands and grabs its helm, placing it over its head and readies his own claymore. “Come foul creature.” A muffled version of the creature’s cry surfaces and then it strives forward. The sound of its sabatons busting along the snow surfaces. The black knight cast his sword in a downward thrust. Troy’s old body is fast enough and strong enough to bring his claymore up and clash with the knight’s sword. Though, once he feels the sensation of their metal meeting, something happens. His eyes glow and all he could see is his brother instead of the creature. Both of them are in a plan open meadow though the field has teal grass instead of a green texture. “You need to wake up, Troy.” Leon’s voic

Every single movement highlighted the sharp, defining lines of his abdomen and the thick, powerful muscles of his broad chest, his skin glistening faintly beneath the bright, harsh stadium lighting. The sheer, overwhelming masculinity radiating from his relaxed posture sent a violent, terrifying jolt of undeniable electricity straight down my spine, making the deeply buried wolf inside my soul completely lose her mind. I was staring at him like an absolute fool, completely captivated by the raw, magnetic pull of his presence, until his piercing, silver-gray eyes suddenly snapped up and locked directly onto mine. "What the hell are you staring at, Emberly?" Jordan asked sharply, his dark brow

Ilyria leaned back against the cool stone wall as she looked through the open window of her chambers up at the night sky. The moon shimmered silver-gold in the warm air, so fragrant with the scent of magnolias and jasmine her mother had ordered delivered by the thousand. The moon didn’t care about the bustle that had begun in the early hours of that morning in her mother’s mansion and had only now quietened down. The moon was oblivious to the water fountains pumped with cool water, to the conjured lights that floated like fireflies above the gardens, to the rows and rows of banquet tables, heavy with rare Deluvian silver.

Lyra reached my side, and I took her hand, raising it slightly as the applause began to subside. “Tonight,” I said, addressing the crowd once more, “we celebrate not only Lyra’s return but also the future of our pack. The goddess has blessed us with a gift, a sign of hope and prosperity.” I turned to Lyra, who gave me a small nod before stepping back toward the entrance. A moment later, she returned, cradling our son, Leo, in her arms. The sight of them together was enough to silence the crowd, the air thick with awe and reverence.

“You’ve saved me from sleepless nights.” She stood and moved toward the door— Then stopped. Slowly, she turned back and sat down again. The healer frowned slightly. “Is something else troubling you, my Luna?” Lyria hesitated, then lowered her voice. “There is… another matter,” she said carefully. “I need your help.” The healer leaned forward. “Go on.” Lyria swallowed. “I need something that can be mixed into food,” she said quietly, “something that can kill quickly… without leaving any trace.”

“I didn't know he was your friend. That's the most powerful Lycan alive, despite how sad the story of his path to becoming one of our kind is. I guess you know that… you said he's your friend, so I guess you know the story.” Jenny couldn't be sure that her father even spoke of the right person — the one who had saved her on that night, whose scent she sought, but she needed her story to fit in. “Yes I do, Father. He talks to me about it sometimes, and it's indeed heartbreaking.”

DEX Something about her changes right before my eyes. For a heartbeat, I can’t feel her through our bond — as if she’s vanished — but then, her presence rushes back like a wave. Lydia raises her head, and when our eyes meet, I freeze. Her irises are no longer their usual color; they’ve turned a brilliant shade of silver. In fact, all of her seems made of light, glowing softly like molten metal.

The girls had chosen this spot for its energy—a natural convergence point where the earth’s magic pooled like water. Freda lit the black candles with a whispered word, their flames burning unnaturally blue. Pru scattered a circle of salt mixed with crushed obsidian, the grains glittering like crushed stars. Rita laid out the parchment—yellowed with age, borrowed from Gogo’s private stash—and the silver dagger, its blade etched with runes. "Ready?" Freda asked. Rita nodded. Pru grinned.