Pixie And Brutus Novels & Stories

Brut looked at me sideway and then hurried forward. “My lady! You don’t know me but I’m hoping we can become friends! My name is Brut Sult. You may call me Brut. I am one of our King’s Generals.” He pushed his coffee cup into her hand. “Take my coffee. I had a little, but it is still hot. I will get another!” He waved off her protests and gestured to one of the warriors that was walking by. He hurried up. “Get another cup of coffee and a plate of breakfast for the Queen,” he ordered the warrior. Tova handed his coffee mug back and put her hand on the Warrior’s arm before he hurried away.

That's when I see Marcus approaching him. My chest burns at the sight of Marcus walking up to Bryson, leaning in close, saying something that makes Bryson's tense shoulders relax. They start talking, and I watch Marcus work his charm - the easy smile, the casual way he reaches for food, the way he makes Bryson laugh. Marcus is despicable. A cheating snake who can't be trusted with anything. He lies as easily as breathing, and he takes what he wants without caring who gets hurt. Seeing him with Bryson feels unbearable, bitter in ways I can't explain or don't want to think about too hard.

“I am your prince!” One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes cold and unyielding. He leveled his spear at me, his voice devoid of emotion as he spoke the words that sent ice through my veins. “Prince Neil, you are under arrest and sentenced to death for consorting with Werewolves.”

“No, I think they really are savages. I snuck into a house just now and found no money. They have to interact with others to buy these snacks. If they don't have money or the ability to communicate, they can’t get anything! "So, I’m sure the people we’re looking for came here and provided them with these snacks!” Brutus’ underling analyzed the situation. Others applauded, amazed that he found the truth so quickly. “Next, we just need to force the old man to tell the truth. If he can’t, he just needs to give us a direction.” Brutus’ underlings quickly took over. Everyone knew that Brutus was a member of Kronos, while they were street punks. To get ahead, they had to please this smart and fort

Pamela didn't understand why Woody wouldn't help with such a tiny favor. Meanwhile, Woody completely ignored Pamela, not even deigning to bat an eye at her. He had made himself clear before—once they parted ways, they would be strangers. "Even God will not be able to stop me from breaking this punk's arms." Clement laughed devilishly, ready to lay his hand on Brutus. Then, an earth-shattering shriek sounded, "Stop! Don't you dare touch him!"

If they wanted me dead, I'd be buried already. Late afternoon the bite happens. I’m crouched near the art station helping a curly-haired boy named Milo glue googly eyes onto what I think is supposed to be a turtle, when something sharp sinks into my wrist. “Jesus CHRIST!” I jerk back so fast I fall on my ass. Attached to my arm like a rabid raccoon is Mason. Tiny blond terror. Four years old. Freckles. Suspiciously intense eye contact. And the jaw strength of a crocodile.

“Little minion, you’re a d*mn scammer. Where’s the peerless bead that you promised? In the end, an old geezer came out. He’s a peerless Immortal Monarch. Did you intend to kill me with your deception? Why aren’t you dead yet?” Alex kicked it so that it flew dozens of meters away. “Curse me? Believe me, I’ll castrate you.” “Come, come. I’ve scared off the pretty sow anyway. My pig life is meaningless.” Alex took out the Xavion Sword and slashed at it. When Pigsy saw that he was serious, it almost peed out of fear and quickly begged for mercy. “Brother, I was wrong! Please don’t castrate me! I, the old pig, am still a virgin pig. My mom still expects me to carry on the bloodline...”

“Trying to use stealth against me? You’re far from qualified,” Dustin said coldly. Brutus’s face shifted from cocky confidence to growing frustration as he swiftly ingested an antidote and prepared for another attempt to vanish into the shadows. Dustin calmly set Allison down, and with a burst of speed, he shot forward. He was faster than the eye could follow. Brutus’s face twisted in alarm as he hurriedly scattered a rainbow of toxic powders. Each one was potent enough to kill.

No! No-no! NOOOO! Dizziness assails me. I'm going to faint! It was so unfair! I was staring at the twin of my dead husband and lover from two different periods in history. It was a shock when I saw my Trojan Prince's face on the Senator, Brixtius, in the Roman whorehouse. I assumed at the time I ran into Senator Brixtius, it was a coincidence! Now I know for sure the fairies were honestly fucking with me!

"Followed by heavier ones, until weight ceases to be a physical constraint and becomes a mental preference." Pavan looked down at his slender wrists, then at Brutus’s hands—which were roughly the size of dinner platters. "I would like to put on record," Pavan whispered, "that I am very small." "I have eyes," Brutus replied. "And this is going to hurt, isn't it?" Brutus Ironhide—the man who had taken a direct tribulation bolt to the shoulder and casually wiped away the soot—looked at the boy with what could almost be called pity.