Romans & histoires Psychopaths Charming

‘I don’t like cute, I like hot and sexy with a very high tendency to to offer fornication just like sexy shirt skirted pink topped professionally slutty Sara. “Keep telling yourself that and maybe you’ll eventually believe it.” He heard the small voice in his head say to him. “I know you’re not my conscience because I keiiled you since I was nine.” He replied in his head and appeared to be slightly upset. He wondered if Charlie had noticed the change in his countenance because now she looked very distressed and on the brink of tears. That made him feel a little better- that he felt no pity for her. “That’s how I like my women, helpless and weak.”

But it was his smile that was his most potent weapon – a disarming, charming smile that could lure even the most skeptical of souls into his trap. Beneath his captivating exterior, however, Alpha Rowan was a monster. He was a master manipulator, using his charm and good looks to bend others to his will. He was ruthless, cunning, and devoid of empathy, with a heart as cold as the winter snow. His ambition was insatiable, and he would stop at nothing to achieve his ultimate goal: total domination of the park.

He reminded himself why he was here. Zen approached them, adopting a regal gait. His well-shaped lips curved into an amiable smile. His subjects followed after him, reinforcing his status as a leader. "His grace," Zen enunciated in a voice that could send anyone into a hypnotic trance. Nothing about this guy was mere "nice." And Sean hated it. How the fuck was this guy so perfect? He didn't know how to pretend, so he didn't. Honey might drip from Zen’s lips, but his eyes stayed razor-sharp.

Then there is your talent for being quiet and unobtrusive when we are with other people, which only adds to your air of mystique. ‘Mystique?’ Charley grimaced. "I’m just shy, you know that." "Except with me..." the sunlight glossed his dark hair as he sent her a grin. "... which is when another of your amazing talents puts in an appearance—the wildly passionate and sometimes downright provocative you, like you’re being now." "I am not being provocative!" Charley protested. "What would you call the way you are sitting there curled up in that seat like an innocent kitten when you know your skirt has ridden up to the tops of your thighs?"

If he was doing this out of pity, or out of deference to Daddy, or even if he just somehow didn't have anything better to do. I couldn't bring myself to believe that Charlie would have any ulterior motive for his attention. His attitude and actions went far beyond helping a family friend, especially one he hadn't previously been close to. He got along well with the therapists, and he had made friends with the doctors. Just like in high school, the guy made friends everywhere he went because everyone loved him. He just had that personality that drew people to him-they wanted to be around him. I swore, I wouldn't be surprised to find out they were going out for drinks when the guys got off the

Ransom “The bastard son I raise ended up being nothing like me, but in you I see it. You have no empathy for those around you. No pesky feelings of sympathy. You can’t love. Everyone is just a pawn in your life, a useful tool to benefit you. Otherwise, you would have no use for anything. Your psychological diagnosis is all that I’ve hoped for, a true psychopath, like me,” Gerhardt Fuchs says like some demented, proud father.

Ethan and his family were psychopaths, capable of anything. The driver must have sensed my fear because he asked, "Miss, is that man dangerous?" I nodded, my voice shaking. "Yes, he's very dangerous. He's a psychopath." The driver nodded slowly before asking me to move to the front seat and buckle up. I did as he asked, confused by his request. A few seconds later, I saw the driver's eyes narrow, and he smiled as if enjoying the chase. "We're going to go really fast now," he said.

"He is rumored to be a psychopath. A very powerful man operating in the underworld. They call him Kastor." My heart began to thunder as I thought about everything that Charlie said about Allard and how much he resembled the one whom she saw the night she was raped… We might have found Mr. Scar.

“You see that? Even the system agrees. I win.” I gawked at him. “Win what?” He leaned closer, that predatory, confident energy wrapping around me like a second skin. “Your affection, obviously. For obvious reasons.” I groaned again, dramatically, flopping my head onto my desk. “The system’s rigged. You cheated. And don’t say you didn’t, because it’s obvious you did.” He laughed softly, and it was impossible not to notice how nice it sounded when it was just for me. “Cheated? Gloss, it’s called charm. It’s a skill.”

“Have her moved to the second floor. It would seem my queen favors her.” His queen, he says. I would laugh, but I have none of that left in me, so I stay still, watching Raya and the guard leave, watching him walk across my room and retrieve a piece of cloth, with which he wipes my cheeks gently. Atticus confuses me on some days. The thing about psychopaths that makes them deadly is their unpredictable nature. He would backhand me when necessary, roughen me up, and then tend to my injuries with such gentleness, it is hard to believe those hands belong to a monster.