Ray Palmer Novels & Stories

“And you, why did you come here instead of protecting your king?” “My duty remains here. It is to protect you, princess, the last of the royal family.” Falstad bowed his head, hiding his expression under this act. “I’ve seen how easily lord Dillan fell under that man’s spells, it was as easy as cutting butter. He had no chance to even respond, not even a second to utter a word.” “Lord Dillan the kingdom’s champion?” Falstad nodded. “So my princess, I assumed for the worst. And do you hear those shouts? They aren’t cheers, but the wails of men being culled at the moment.”

He plays the footage from the camera flash he got from the lab. We carefully watch everything in the video. Alpha Tate’s wolf wasn’t comfortable seeing it again, he’s growling and radiating anger energy from his body, but we had to watch it. It’s the only way to know who these scientists are. “There.” He points at the screen. Oliver pauses the video, taking it back a little and stops at the face of one of the doctors. “Isn’t that Justin’s father?” Oliver asks, staring at the screen intensely. He does look exactly like Justin though.

The bright red shirt Jericho wore came into view through the shrubs but just as I fired, he leaped out. "Missed me," he chortled, ready to take me out but a bright pink paint blotch landed in the center of his chest, directly on the target. The vest Jericho wore lit up with the word 'Out'. "I don't think she did, cub," Gunnar said, standing at my side but his victory was short-lived when a yellow paintball splatted across his vest.

He packed them up, and made his way towards the refrigerator aisles hoping to find water. On his way there he heard something, he froze and Listened. Then he was sure. It was heavy breathing. The Pales were frightening, the biggest stood eight feet tall and were a formidable entity. They had claws to tear their prey apart like a lioness tearing into a meal. A Pale’s arms hung very long and their legs were lengthy as well.

Rayne's eyes were focused on the screens that displayed the footage of the cameras. I did not notice that about her before, but the girl was very observant and she paid attention to every single detail her eyes fell on. "Roland... look here, there's a shadow. It seems like somebody is pacing back and forth," Rayne told Roland. He zoomed in, giving us a clearer view of what Rayne had pointed at. The camera she pointed at viewed the backdoor of the kitchen.

It felt wrong but he would not take anything from me. I headed to the kitchen and made a hot drink. The warmth settled me. My house was too busy for my liking. I offered Logan a drink which he gladly accepted. As we were drinking there was another knock at the door which was unexpected. I froze, gripping my hands against the counter. Logan disappeared and returned a few moments later with someone behind him. “Leah, this is Jack, he does security for us. Jack this is Leah.” Jack was shorter than Logan and a lot stockier. He was muscular and had a shaved head. He reminded me more of an army man than anything else. His arms were covered in tattoos, and his stance screamed military. He stepped f

“It has been centuries since that particular magic had been counteracted successfully.” “Was it you?” “No,” Albert responded. “The Vampires did.” “The Night Children never have the peaceful politics,” Ray said. “So many things changed a lot. How long had it been, werewolf?” “They call me Albert here, Siren,” he said. “Now, tell me yours.” Raymond was still on little Mark’s form. From his little limbs, he grew into his magnificent form. “Raymundo Palmero.” “Leaving the Jade Island for the second time?”

His eyes—those terrible, pale eyes—glowed faintly in the dim light. King Valerian was the embodiment of a warrior king—tall, broad-shouldered, and carved from muscle and discipline. His physique was built not by luxury but by centuries of battle, every line of his body honed like a weapon. Unlike most alphas, his skin bore a faint, icy pallor, a reflection of the frozen lands he ruled, and his long, silver-streaked black hair flowed like the northern winds he commanded. But it was his eyes that set him apart—piercing pale grey, almost white, glowing faintly with the eerie calm of a predator who didn’t need to snarl to be feared. Even in silence, Valerian commanded a room, a man of both chill

, I chuckled nervously. Please open up and swallow me now, I begged the earth. "Do you know why you're here, Miss Carmichael?" Mr. Drebeille finally spoke. I shook my head rapidly in response, "Did I tell you, you have such lovely skin today Mr. Drebeille" "New soap?" "Yes", the burly man indulged me as he leaned back into his chair, the old stud creaking in the process. "It's called the soap of retaining my job".

"Mr. Palmer, about Ms. Rackham—" Pedro cut him off. "That chapter's dead to me." One sentence. Just like that—he erased everything we ever were. "My future's with Wendy now," he said. "She's it. The only one I'll ever love. "She gets the best of everything. As for Ruth Rackham? She's better off gone. That name's wiped from the internet. Anyone who brings it up can leave. "And if anyone doubts I mean it, I'll show them just how serious I am."