Mason The Book Novels & Stories

His chauffeur, Yusuf, knows precisely the days and time, where to, what for, and for how long. Cemetery day is always the hardest for Yusuf. He always picks a bouquet of orchids, lemon-scented candles, and a bottle of pinot noir for his boss as a starter. Alexander spends an hour or so in the cemetery talking to his mother. She was his confidant when she was alive, and he didn't see the need to change that. Anything he wouldn't tell a soul, he said it to his mother with cheeky ease. For Alexander, such a day always ends with a twink in one hand and whiskey in the other.

By some miracle, Brian had forgotten to check behind it and had been wondering from one point to another. He appeared in a flash and pushed the bookshelf away, taking our only cover. Mason immediately stood in front of me and shielded me from any potential danger. Brian's eyes glowed with a shiny red glint as he barred his fangs ready to sink them in some flesh. His nails elongated as they flushed at the two of us as if they wanted to. Leave a mark. Mason protected me from all his vicious attacks. He ended up with a few scratches which he got before he shifted into his wolf form.

No biggie. No-fucking-body. That's who. "Why do you smell like Devan?" Mason's voice interrupts my train of thoughts and causing me to jump slightly. "You're awake." I say a little shocked. "Yes. Now why do you smell like Devan?" He growls and turns around to face me. The black of his eyes cause me to move back slightly resulting into me almost falling of the bed. Mason was quick to save me though. He pulls me flush against his body and I shiver as the sparks ignite at the skin-to-skin contact that we are making.

Mason sat down on the chair and crossed his legs on the table "Just because you two have a secret hideout? He gives you candy? Take care of you. Layla Layla!! Don't you know this world?" "How do you know the hideout? It was between me and Zion?!" Layla yelled and Mason laughed like he knew something we didn't. "Zion was a psychopath narcissistic, his emotions towards you were nothing but fake," There was something about Mason that I couldn't understand. "Keep that name out of your mouth!! Don't you dare insult Zion! Have some respect for the dead!" Layla yelled. "The dead?" Mason knelt down, "Let's have a minute of silence for the Dead, may Mason Mosiahs soul rest in peace."

By the time he’d regained his bearings, they were gone, and the forest was crawling with enemies. A branch snapped too close. Mason gritted his teeth and forced himself to move, every step a white-hot spike through his ribs. He wasn’t a werewolf like Evelyn or Emily—but he was something just as stubborn: a man too loyal to quit. A soft growl rumbled in the trees to his left. “Not now,” Mason whispered. “Don’t you dare.” The growl came again—closer. He turned, raising his knife, breath hitching. But what stepped out wasn’t a Circle soldier. It wasn’t a wolf.

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.”

Amber muttered, choosing Xavier. They walked away together, ignoring the burning anger bubbling behind them. “No, no, no!!!” Mason bellowed, his voice echoing across the compound, powered by his wolf. “Shut the hell up!” another student yelled from a window. Mason stood there grunting like an animal, chest heaving, claws extending moderately from his fingers. He watched them stride away, possessive anger twisting in his stomach. He needed a plan, something to split them up for good. And he already had an idea. But first… he needed to make friends with his enemy’s friend.

Nikolai stepped forward, his head hung low. With that said, I turned around, leaving the dark abandoned warehouse with my younger brother, Alessandro. As we left, I could hear the excruciating painful scream from Milano. It echoed through the warehouse and a sense of satisfaction washed over me. ……… The drive to the Saint Clan, owned by our father, Rolando De Luca, took about ten minutes. “Welcome, Capo.” The guards at the huge brass gate bowed their heads as I drove into the clan. It is a huge compound filled with huge men training each other in combat, taekwondo and gun fights.

"First of all, use the right words, you, not we, not us but you, because it's you that created the anti gay propaganda, not me, people should get to be whatever they want to be, I honestly don't care" "Charlie you are getting on my nerves, what exactly were you even doing there?". "Well, Mason owns the place now, you remember Mason, your old friend Grey? his son, he runs there, and I've seen it with my own eyes the kind of money sleeping in that place. I've seen it myself, you have no idea.

The air itself felt heavier like the estate was waiting, watching and listening. And the worst part was, I no longer knew whether the danger existed outside House Lunareth or inside it. Mason was already awake, of course he was. I found him standing near the massive windows overlooking the forest below, dressed entirely in black while moonlight faded slowly behind the morning fog. His posture looked calm, that dangerous kind of calm Mason carried right before violence, right before decisions and right before war. “You didn’t sleep again,” I said quietly. His eyes remained fixed outside. “No.”