Pip Bernadotte Novels & Stories

The old Council member tilted his head in confusion. "You said that I killed a Council member in order to get on the Council of the Neratomay. I killed two—for the record. Also, for the record, you're in my land without permission. You've breached my safe house and insulted me. All reasons that you could legally be killed." He lowered his head as if conceding defeat. "Yes. Grounds for battle—although killing me would not be so easy." I didn't disagree. "My apologies then," he said. "I have no quarrel with you…yet. My name is Bernard. There is no other name, just Bernard. I am a Council member and Master of San Diego."

I don't think I can handle another lingering gaze from him. The evening takes a dark turn as work becomes more intense and it seems a hundred people are calling my name at a time. But I somehow manage to remain composed, right until the moment I take a few steps away from a few customers and bump into someone. I turn around, hoping it's just one of my colleagues, only to find the guy from table six bent over the ground. When he straightens, Norah's vile of poison is in his hand, and the velvet napkin in the other. He wraps it with the napkin, handing it to me. "This fell from your pocket."

asked the man frowning. "He..." Billina pointed towards the little goblin who gulped in fear... Now, who did she called for help? He wondered. Senor Gabriel was well aware of who Billina Bernand was. Nevertheless, he pressed charges against the member of the Bernand family. He wanted Besora back at any cost. And by pressing the charges against Jules for having the girl kidnap or prisoner he might be succeeded. But guess there's no way in hell he would be succeeded. Davis Belmont, he was the famous businessman in Chicago. Dealing with luxurious and expensive yachts, he made his name and his company.

"Move," his beta ordered me, forcing me into the carriage that held all of their purchases. I stepped forward, my hand tightly secured by Marcus's grip. The trinkets I had just bought, clinked in my bag. Perhaps, Nikolai would like them as a gift to himself. I kissed my teeth heatedly, mounting the ledge, as my foot wavered. I just had to hoist myself up and into the carriage. I grabbed onto the door, keeping my movements steady.

“Here’s another question from @MiraClassics: Aren’t you one of Devin Mávros’ flings?” Evan choked on his beer. “What the fuck?” “Is this Devin, the one from Mávros enterprises?” Kandra looked behind the camera and another message popped on the screen from ‘@MiraClassics: yes. That hot bachelor.’ “Were you? I mean, that guy is one of the most sought out bachelors in New York if not in the entire world.”

Thoughts on his brother, Victor, crosses my mind, it doesn’t sit well with me to know that he met Yanna. He knocks but doesn’t wait for a reply to walk in. “Bernadi.” I stand to shake his hand which he used to pull me in for a short hug. “Ivanov, it’s good to see you.” We head over to the couch and he makes a move to hand me a cigar but I stop him, refusing. “I’m not interested.” He raises a surprised brow. “The Enzo Bernadi, not interested in a cigar?....” He lights up the one in his hand and takes a drag. “You’ve got something to live for?” he teases.

“Guy. In the road. Swerved to miss him. Flipped. Crashed. Zonbis . . . zonbis. That means . . . Then someone else pulled her out, he pulled her out. Left the rest of us to his . . . his . . . dead minions . . . oh God.” “Who?” “Papa Nightmare. He has Jeannine,” sobbed Bernstein.

STEVENS POV "Mads paid a massive amount of gold pack resources to secure Bartosz a place at the elite warrior trial grounds in the Frostfang Capital," Ulrich Andersen chuckles low under his breath, leaning back in his heavy wooden chair. "He got expelled from the last pack territory. Hopefully, he can learn some actual alpha restraint up north without burning the training barracks down." A sharp pang of longing twists through my chest. I really miss Bartosz. The youngest Andersen brother was always full of life, reckless, and funny. He made the big, silent stone fortress of the Silverclaw Citadel feel a little less like a terrifying military cage.

He replied. "I wonder if my dad is looking down at me," I wondered, then faced Alessandro, who I could barely see in the dark, but I saw a slight glint in his eye from the light of the alarm clock beside me. "He's proud of you, love," He whispered in a sleepy voice. "If you don't mind me asking, how did your father die?" I sighed. "He was shot by Russians, apparently some dude named Ivan Petrov. I've been trying to locate him for some time now but he kept moving from place to place so I gave up and just dealt with it, I guess"

“The first letter read: ‘I, Prince Habeb, the Prince of Suramy demand from you, Banabella, whose name I discovered in my dreams. I beg you in the name of your own god, grant me my wish, and avoid being uprooted from the face of the earth.” The second parchment read: “Because you have hidden Banabella in an unidentifiable place, with the intent of deceiving me, I’ll tread upon your bodies and make your kingdom bare like ordinary earth. Till I see Banabella, the people of Muzagah shall not be privileged to take in air into their nostrils before the sun sets tomorrow. Prince Habeb speaks!’