Michael C Hall Audiobooks Novels & Stories

I couldn't close my eyes without seeing Mace on that floor—his magnificent strength turned to paralyzed stone, his golden eyes wide with a panic that mirrored my own, the grey pallor of death creeping up his neck. A high, keening sound escaped my throat, involuntary and pathetic. “Silence, pet,” Michael said from the driver's seat. His voice wasn't loud; it was bored. Flat. The voice of a man who had finished a tedious chore and was heading home. I clamped my jaw shut, biting my tongue until I tasted copper. Silence was survival. I knew that rule. I had just forgotten it for a few beautiful days.

Mike had apparently forgotten some of that. “What did you do?’ Garrey snarled at the guards who had just stabbed Michael. The pain spread all over Mike before the world shut down. The last thing he heard was Killian’s voice, muffled and as if a million miles away from him.

Settling down in his chair, Micheal procced to complete his outstanding work when Autumn's table lit up, catching Micheal's attention as his eyebrows furrowed. Placing down his pen, Micheal picked up the table as he stared at the screen in curiosity. Unlocking the screen with one swipe, Micheal's eyebrows shot up in shock and amusement. On the screen was an audiobook entitled 'My Filthy Girl'. Micheal glanced at Autumn, who slept peacefully before looking back at the table as his body tensed up. Glancing down at the headphones that lay on his desk, Micheal forcefully swallowed before he picked them up and placed them in his ear. His shaky finger then pressed play as music immediately filled

After sipping his coffee, Michael closed his eyes and savored the taste. “I often wondered if Earth is not Heaven with its wonderous marvels and the actual Heaven is a desolate wasteland,” Michael said, looking at the two staring at him. “What? Is there something on my face?” “Where have you been? Everyone was looking for you.” Chamuel asked, looking at the man before him with a questioning look. “Here, of course,” Michael stated, taking another sip. “We can see that, but why are you here? And where is your power?” Azrael asked. “We can’t seem to sense it on you.”

He replied, looking at his shoes as if avoiding my gaze. " Then what?! Talk to me Michael!!" I screamed at him. " The last time I came here to see her, Jack mistakenly put in one of her diaries into my bag. I was curious so, I went through it even before I got home. There was a particular sentence that attracted me. I tried reading it but it was written in a language I didn't understand. I had forgotten about it until this morning. I had this feeling that it was going to help make her project even better. Since we were visiting today I thought I could help and even sleep over to spend more time with her.Since it was written in her diary, she must know something about, probably a lot about. I

Michael went to Oak Lake Villa after he left the Garcias’ residence. He was getting impatient after waiting on the couch for three hours, and when Michael was about to go look for her, he heard sounds of the door unlocking. He quickly sat back on the couch with a lazy posture and forced himself not to look in the direction of the door. The fragrance of a lady’s perfume assaulted his nostrils, and it was the Chanel perfume that he was familiar with. Michael pretended to be calm with his eyes staring at the entertainment show on the television.

“What’s going on? Someone please tell me. Where am I?” his trembling voice asked. No one answered, it was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the rumbling on the engine, and heavy breathing. “Please where are you taking me?” he asked again, realizing he was in a moving car from the bumps on the road. “Just keep shut, okay? we’ll get there soon” A croaky voice replied gently. Michael was at Arnold’s building that afternoon, walking through the hallway with the pocket book in his hand, looking for the room number on the book.

Michael had appeared from a spot amid the chaos of the doors opening and was standing apart from the group, arms folded, watching it all with the patient attention of a researcher who never stopped collecting data. We moved into the hall. Tom and Garrett walked ahead. Michael fell in behind them. Alvin stayed back, and I stayed back, and the distance between the rest of the group and us opened naturally, the way spaces open when nobody is forcing them closed. He spoke quietly enough that nobody ahead would hear. "I did not finish what I said at door nine," he muttered. "I know." "I need to." I looked at him... His face in the hall's white light was completely open, something entirely differe

Michael asked in a low voice. The chief simply stared at him and corked his head to the side. "What do you mean? And why are you talking like that? It isn't like anybody can hear you." Michael leaned back on his chair and rolled his eyes. "C'mon, you know what I am talking about!" Michael sounded desperate. The chief slightly furrowed his brows. "I am serious, I don't know who you are talking about," he said. "Be serious with me. I know—" Michael stopped and looked around.

A sense of unease rippled through the hall. Before anyone could really figure out what was happening, the main doors burst open with a violent crash. The sound echoed through the hall, silencing everyone. My blood ran cold. Standing in the doorway, flanked by those two pieces of shit Alphas, Crock and Mathias, was Michael. My heart hammered against my ribs. My breath hitched in my throat. My smile vanished, replaced by a surge of pure, unadulterated rage. My eyes widened in disbelief and fury.