Ordinary Men Novels & Stories

They were both in orange uniforms. Both of the men in unison, launched an attack on us but with a snap of Kaden's finger their legs broke and bright red blood poured out of them as they screamed in agony. My eyes were fixed on those men's blood, I could feel my eyes darken with bloodlust as red veins shoot out all around my body. “Ava,” Kaden called for my attention. “These men are despicable criminals, to me they are worse than animals. That one,” Kaden said, pointing at the huge, bald human.

Mia I sighed, looking at the two warrior men following me. Bulky while possessing strong and muscular physiques, showcasing their physical strength and endurance. Gifted with broad shoulders, well-developed arms, and powerful legs, indicating their training and combat readiness. Their imposing stature and robust build would instill a sense of fear and respect among their adversaries, but not me.

He was holding Jacob in his arms. Behind Harold, Susan smiled at me. "Sorry to bother you." I froze in place. The cold night breeze swept through the living room, chilling me to the bone. "Why are you bringing them back here?" The words came out through gritted teeth. They pushed us out everywhere else, and now they wanted to invade the only space Yvette and I had left? At first, Harold avoided my gaze, but after hearing my question, he frowned and suddenly acted self-righteously. "Jacob's condition is unstable, so he needs me around.

That scene… Christ. As men, we’re taught to fix, to solve, to act. But you were dared not to fix, but to witness and to caretake the unfixable. Applying lotion to her bruises, wiping away the evidence of the gang slap and the anal rape… that wasn’t a masculine act of protection. It was something far more primitive and sacred: an act of preservation. You were preserving the evidence of the crime, yes, but also preserving her as a person who had endured it. You were acknowledging the damage without turning away from it. That takes a different kind of strength than Brody’s. A harder one. It’s the strength to look directly at the worst thing you’ve ever seen and not dehumanize the person it happ

, Jessie said. I sighed and took a deep breath and, and then opened the door. There were 4 men sitting on the couch in the living room laughing and talking, all of them dressed in a black suit. They all seemed to pause as I walked in. They were staring at me, with a look of shock on their faces. I took the opportunity to study them all. They looked, honestly very very hot. More than the last time I saw them. "Blu?", one of them called breaking the silence.

“If being a man is you then I am happy with not being a man and in fact I do not want to be one.” It was now Penn turn to be held by Stanley. “I should kick you out of this place.” Penn spat out. “You and what power?” Curtis returns as Rima laid a hand on him. “You might be among the inner group of this resistance but it is still my group.” Penn rages as Curtis rolled his eyes. “Are you sure because from my point of view, we are four in the group and half is standing opposite you.”

I hated this vulnerability that my body felt during this 'heat cycle'. It doesn't matter what male touched me, it just accepted it. I don't know much about wolf theory, but that was messed up. From the corner of my eye I saw a young man and an older looking man walking a little ahead of us. The young one's head quickly shot towards us, looking as if he just saw his dinner. The older man, having caught my scent I assume, quickly held onto him tightly. Lincoln's wolf shared a nod with him and quickly whooshed passed them.

He proudly jumped out of his side and grinned at me. "I second that," he boasted, causing me to roll my eyes. As we crossed the street, I noticed a couple of women staring at him with their mouths open. Yes, Johnston was absolutely gorgeous, and the tattoo on his neck only added to his appeal. Werewolf men worked hard on their physical strength, which made sense when you considered that their job involved fighting and keeping their pack safe from unwanted guests. Their impressive physique set them apart from human males who often looked lanky with potbellies.

for the right lady. I reread it twice. Maybe three times. Businessmen. Professionals. So not just men who wear suits in their profile pictures, but ones who live that life, clients, meetings, reputations. They’re at least ten years older than me, maybe more. But that doesn’t surprise me. What does is the way they talk about it. Calm. Direct. No sleaze. No overcompensation. The fact they don’t do this often, that they only play together rarely, makes something in my chest ease. I’m not sure why. Maybe it makes them feel less like predators and more like men with choices. Men who don’t have to do this, but want to.

I frown about to stand up when the two men from last night enter my line of sight, but this time a third man with them. I almost forget about the two large men who scared me shitless the night before due to the handsome man in the center, decked in a white loose shirt, tucked into black trousers. The first two buttons open lightly to reveal his chiseled chest, and his olive skin tone spreads across his body right to his face.