Mason Novels & Stories

She quickly stood up and ran to another room. "That's awkward." I murmured to Ace. "I second that." He replied. "Ace De Santis." He grinned at Ace as he wore his robe before lighting his cigarette. "Alexia Hale." He smirked. "What the fuck do you want?", I hissed angrily. "I'm Mason. mason Horax." He presented himself with a smile, showing his yellow teeth. "Get to point," Ace stated, "We're not here to fuck around." He continued, removing his gun from his waistband and pointed it at Mason.

He moved with the silence of a predator and the ease of a man who owned the dark. He crouched near me, not touching, an arm resting on his knee. His eyes were too bright in the moon, and they measured me like a market buyer. “You shouldn’t walk packlands at night, little one.” I swallowed. “Who are you?” He let out a chuckel. “A dangerous thing to ask in the Wildlands.” He straightened. “Name’s Mason.” Mason looked at me like a curious animal. “You smell like a bond and trouble,” he said. “Alpha’s mark still clings to you.”

“It’s a date, Somadina Bello.” Heat creeps up my neck. I click my tongue, but his smile expands. “You’re yet to tell me why you’re headed to the palace.” “About that, I landed this big gig with the decorators for the ceremony,” he explains. “Some guy came to the store and was talking about it. Didn’t think I’d get a spot.” Just like me, Mason is an orphan. He was brought up by Old Man Jimmy, a grump who runs the local liquor store.

Levi was gifted like that, he could get in anywhere, and you never heard him coming. “I’ll be back in a bit. I know you’re going to need some Scotch for tonight’s bullshit meeting,” Levi said, and walked out again. Malachi smiled, and shook his head. Levi was right though. Malachi walked to the living room, planning on getting himself a drink, when he spied the man standing with his back toward him. The stranger was gazing out of the window. He had light brown hair and stood about 6’2” tall.. The stranger turned around, and Malachi noticed the fern like marks on his left arm. It started at his wrist and went all the way up to his neck. “Malachi Sinclair.”

Mason The sound of applause filled the hall, loud and endless. The paparazzi cameras flashed from every corner, their bright lights almost blinding, but I barely blinked. I stood tall in my well-tailored dark grey suit as I accepted the award handed to me. “The youngest CEO to ever receive this honor,” the announcer said, smiling at me. “Mason Woods, everyone!” The applause grew louder. People stood from their seats, clapping, some even whistling.

In an instant, bright light filled the entire study. Mason leaned against the black leather sofa, with black hair, a black shirt, and black trousers. He almost blended with the sofa. He held a half-burnt cigarette in his right hand, not smoking it, his gaze fixed on the snow-white wall. He remained motionless, resembling a statue. "Cousin," Elaine called again, "It's my fault for worrying you." Mason didn't lift his gaze, but took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that blurred his sharply defined handsome face. There was a hint of complexity in his slightly narrowed eyes.