Petra Tinkerbell Novels & Stories

I click on it and read the text. From Gray: Tinkerbell , are you at home? I roll my eyes and toss my phone aside. How can he steal my number and even save his number in my phone. I ignore it and press my face on my pillow. He's gonna end up like Freddie. Always after your pants.

Amelia POV Her name was Petra, and she arrived in late summer with a letter of introduction from Brenna — the healer I had written to months earlier about the child who calmed animals. Petra is that child, Brenna wrote. She is eleven now. The gift has grown faster than I can account for, and there are complications I am not equipped to manage. I am sending her to you not because I have given up, but because I believe you are the next right step for her. She has agreed to come. Her parents have agreed. I am asking, plainly, whether you will receive her.

A living, breathing child who carried his blood. If that was true, then why had we been told, in no uncertain terms, that our purpose here was to give Alexander Petrova an heir? Why buy human women and keep them in a harem if one of his own already walked the estate? The questions multiplied with every step and none of the answers made sense. Helena must have noticed the way my jaw tightened because she glanced at me. “You’re unusually quiet,” she said. “I’m thinking,” I answered. “That tends to worry me,” she replied, and I stopped walking. She took another step and then realized I had halted. “You are free to ask the questions you want.” she said calmly.

Suddenly, Petra’s voice cracked through the comms again: “Alma, Ezra, don’t detonate! I found something. Ember isn’t just a person. It’s a network. Someone hacked into Sapphire’s old AI and cloned a conscience.” “They call it Phoenix. And it has its own plan.” Ezra and Alma locked eyes. Another player had entered the board. And the honeymoon had officially become a war zone.

She was thin, her dark hair streaked with premature grey despite looking no older than her late twenties, but her eyes held a fierce intelligence that captivity hadn't dimmed. "You're her," she breathed. "The Silver Luna. The one who freed the wolves at the Montana facility." Tears began streaming down her face. "We felt it, all of us felt it when you broke their hold. The guards, they became confused, disorganized. We saw our chance, and we ran." I moved toward her slowly, aware of Kane's protective presence at my back. "You're safe now," I assured her gently. "What's your name?" "Peta," she replied, her voice cracking with emotion. "Peta Thornton. I was taken from the Silver Creek pack twe

I know she won't. The whole den is silent. I look around and see familiar faces—those I recognize from the academy—and strange ones. Petra is easy to find, as she's standing right in the middle of the ring, wearing a full black ensemble. Her pale blonde hair is down and her arms are on either side of her. Her eyes light up when she spots me. "Omega. I didn't think you'd come." I don't answer her. Some people step out of the way for me to pass. The lights are dimmed as they were the last time and the air is still as suffocating as I remember it being. I step over the ropes around the ring and come face-to-face with Petra.

"The walking is the documentation." She thought about this. She looked at the survey notebook visible in my flat pocket. She looked at the ammonite. She looked at me. "I'm Petra," she said. "Noah," I said. "The survey notebook," she said. "Does it have the boundary crack data?" "Yes," I said. "Can I see the methodology?" she said. "I've been trying to develop a documentation system for my own observations but the categories aren't working yet." I looked at her.

"The floor here has a habit of rejecting those who don't stand firm." I looked up into piercing grey eyes. It was Petra. Valkyrie Noble Lady, a literal tower of muscle and grace, blonde hair shorn short, presence radiating formidable authority only a demigod-descendant could possess. Even in a simple black leotard, she looked like she wore invisible armor. "Thank you, Petra." I smoothed my violet silk. "Someone is practicing their frictionless charms a bit early."

"I know of three active wolf-witches on this continent. I ran the signature against their known work patterns." She turned the screen to show me the names. I read the first one. Someone I didn't know, eastern territory. I read the second name. My stomach turned over. Petra. It was written out in full, Petra Vas, healer and practitioner, registered affiliation Silvercrest Pack post-battle integration. I didn't move. I made sure I didn't move.

I try to take care of her at work and outside work, her husband does everything he can to keep her out of trouble. Norah pouts, and I pull her out of the kitchen until we're in a safe, quiet zone. She shows me a small vile wrapped in a silky napkin, watching with wide eyes to see my reaction. "What the hell is that?" I have to ask. She grins. "It's another poison to add to my collection. I finally got the belladonna extract," she explains. "Are you crazy?" I whisper-shout, looking around. "This is a restaurant! You have to stop bringing them here!"