Male Face Claims Novels & Stories

He leaned down and whispered in her ear with his deep, alluring voice, "Even if you want, you can't fall for anyone else. Because…” He paused, sending shivers down her spine. His breath was warm against her skin as he pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, then he said, “I claim you, Mate.” —

“And because someone listened instead of conquering.” Silence spreads, I feel it settle like a held breath. Behind me, the council watches and ahead of me, the world waits. Then someone pushes forward from the edge of the crowd, a man with grey eyes. He’s not council or pack but Something older. He smiles slowly. “You speak beautifully, Beta.” My blood runs cold. “But you misunderstand,” he continues. “The claim has already begun and we will come again.” Gasps ripple. Ryker steps beside me. “What claim?”

“Have you seen him?” A third voice, male this time, let out a low whistle. “Honestly? I don't even blame you. If I wasn’t straight, I'd be in line too.” The group burst into laughter. “I'm serious!” he insisted. “That man is unfair. Like, how are you that good looking and still intimidating? Pick a struggle”I could feel him fanning himself. “Right?” someone else added. “The way he walks into a room like he owns the air”

He had really managed to go against nine people! "This is crazy! It's actually happening!" The red-haired man said in a hoarse voice. If he did not witness it himself, he would never have believed it. The red-haired man gulped. His whole body was shaking. That masked man had not been bragging at all. The strong had just been a vague idea in the red-haired man's head before this. He knew that they were more talented and better than him in every way.

Three men, coming towards me. They were all dressed in huge oversized black leather jackets and only two had facecaps on. The other was wearing a head warmer. "Hey, didn't you hear me call you?" He declared, but I ignored them. The man was finally standing in front of me. "What do you want?" I asked him. I raised my gaze to see his face, even though it was nearly blurry. I noticed the malicious smile on his face as he spoke. "You're pretty. Are you some celebrity?" He asked me.

At this moment, a male voice sounded. "Is it all made up? I can't believe you can say such things. After verification, the photos and videos are indeed real! You stole someone else's fiancé and shamelessly implied that the person you claimed to protect turned their back on him! You want to act promiscuously while still wanting to maintain a virtuous image." Roland wore sunglasses, his silver hair flowing freely, and he spoke without mercy, successfully causing Ariana's face to darken. The journalists and media started asking questions about this matter again.

They couldn't understand anything, they couldn't understand who that man was in front of them or why he was saying those things. “What are you talking about? Who are you in the first place to tell us to get out of here?” They shouted at Jansen. The mayor had a mocking laugh. “You people just don’t know Jensen Grimes? What kind of person are you? Don’t you even use the internet to find out what’s happening in the world?” He was making fun of everyone.

That's what he thrives on. Finn’s smirk falters, his eyes searching mine like he is trying to find a crack. “You are just bluffing,” he says, shaking his head. “My guys did their homework. You are obsessed with Mason. You would never walk away from him.” he says,a hint of disbelief on his face and voice.

Just a male begging. “Amara,” he rasped, stepping toward me. “Please.” I looked at him—the blood on his mouth, the wild desperation in his eyes, the same male who had thrown me to the boundary stones only days ago. And I laughed. It was a small, brittle sound, sharp as breaking ice. “Do you know what you look like right now?” I asked. Silas stilled, his chest heaving. “You look like a clown,” I said, my voice carrying in the sudden silence. “Howling at a moon that has already set.”

I know I saved him, I knew he was okay before I closed my eyes. I looked around and observed the room, the three men in front of me were looking at me with blank expressions. One of the guys had straight, black, slicked-back hair. He looks like a gangster; he may be one of Archer’s men. One of the other men beside him looks like a pure Asian because of his narrow eyes and undercut black hair, while the other one had clean-cut hair, he looks half-Asian and half-American. They all look like half of their daily routine is spent at the gym.