Mason Novels & Stories

My sharp almond shaped eyes didn't leave him as they stared at him in disbelief. "Yes, in the woods, it is the only place that can accommodate any amount of wolves. And it is left for the decoration team to beautify this place. What we are concerned with is cleaning the floor, spotlessly," Mr Mason said, emphasizing on the last word before he began to fumble with his pocket for some time till he brought out a white handkerchief and sneezed violently on it, slightly throwing his head back and gasping for breath, making me seize my breath for some seconds.

" Iam Mason. This is Pheobe, my sister and this is uncle chuck. I call him my uncle, but he isn't. We..." " Come to the point, you idiot. Why are you going easy on her?" Pheobe interrupted as she got frustrated by Mason's talks. " Why's the rush? We got all the time," he said. ' I got no time to waste' I thought which I couldn't express with these tape on my mouth. " So introduce yourself," He said like we are having a nice conversation. A pause. " Oh right. The tape," Mason laughed and took it. " Iam Sydney Marin. I don't need to tell you about me. Come straight to the point,"

Even if they were ordered to. “No need to thank me, I actually requested this assignment,” He winks, flashing me a panty-melting smile. Mason was very easy on the eyes, with his longish brown hair that curled around his ears and those soft brown eyes. He was tall and muscular with a lean build. I had noticed him the first time I visited my best friend at MacTire. But my eyes were always looking for a certain werewolf that I couldn’t get out of my head. Hunji.

“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.

he said, throwing a file my way. I went through the file and found out that Mason was stripped of his license a long time ago in Canada because he became obsessed with a married woman, drugged her, and made her pregnant. The name of the woman is Mavis... This is the same woman who always disrespects my wife. What game is Mason playing? I look at the two newfound family favorites and smirk.

Mason didn’t waste another second. He bolted from the office, storming down the hall with the urgency of a man who just glimpsed the edge of something he couldn’t unsee. His footsteps echoed against the wooden floors as he rushed to the other villa where the shamans live. Orun sat cross-legged near a steaming cup of herbal tea, discussing something with the other shamans. “Orun,” Mason called, breathless and wild-eyed. The shaman turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Gray processes that, his face shifting through a range of emotions before he rolls his shoulders like he's carrying the weight of the entire club on his back—alone. Like he wasn't just off the grid for a whole damn week, claiming it had something to do with Christine and their demon spawn. Like anyone believes that bullshit. "Mace, I need a drink. This candy isn't doing shit right now," he finally mutters. Mason nods and disappears into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a glass of whiskey. He hands it off without a word before moving back to his place against the wall, arms crossed, watchful.

Mason questioned with the brightest smile ever, “I am happy to see you.” “Me too, did you brother see you already?” I asked and he nodded his head, “The Queen?” “I haven't seen the Queen yet, I don’t want to spoil her day but Grandma and Ava were excited to see me,” Mason made faces as he said. Mason was Tristan's step brother from a palace maid, so Tristan’s mother wasn’t fond of him, matter of fact she doesn’t like him. Mason brought his hand forward, “Let’s walk together,” I smiled at him and placed my hand on his hand and we walked together downstairs.

That is why I hired Mason. Mason is a sophomore at the local university, majoring in kinesiology. Tall — six-one at least with lean, soccer-player muscle, sandy blond hair that falls into hazel eyes, and a smile that is equal parts boyish and dangerous. He started babysitting for me six months ago after I posted in the neighborhood F******k group. The kids adore him. He plays Fortnite with Max for hours, lets Lily paint his nails, and somehow gets them both in bed on time without a single meltdown. I have always appreciated him. Paid him well. Tipped extra. Pretended I didn’t notice how his T-shirts cling to his chest or how his

Grant. Wearing nothing but compression shorts and a cocky-ass grin. Shirtless. Chest gleaming with sweat. Arms flexed. Hair damp and messy. He looked like a fucking ad. Like someone dropped a Calvin Klein model in the middle of our locker room. “What the hell do you want?” Malik snapped, stepping in front of me. “I came to say hi,” Mason said casually. “Didn’t get to catch up after the game.” “We’re not in the mood,” Liam growled.