Rebel Novelas e Histórias

It's refreshing that Rebel doesn't care. She is perfect in every single way. "This is nice," Rebel mumbles and tucks her icicle feet between my legs before closing her eyes. She backs against me, rubbing my hard-on with her cute little butt. "You're so warm." I breathe a laugh behind her. "You're just cold," I stroke her hat, intent on ignoring the fact that I'm semi-erect again. "I would never ditch you for being bald. You know that, right?" Rebel is silent for a while, then speaks in a soft tone. "I want to keep it on for my sake... If you stroke my bald head, then I... I don't know... I just fe

However, no matter how desperately she pleaded, not a single cent came through. Ten minutes of fake crying later, frustration broke through her mask, and she snapped. “You bunch of broke losers! So many people in here and you can’t even scrape together one decent donation?” The mood flipped instantly. A new flood of messages filled the screen. [Any cops watching this stream? The suspect is right now under the Frostbridge overpass.] The tip spread like wildfire in the chat. Mira panicked and hurried to shut the stream down, but it was too late. The officers were the ones who finally ended her live feed.

There he was— leaning against the auditorium doorway, dressed in all leather black, clutching a helmet, exuding that dangerous calm was— Killian Lancaster— The school bad boy— The school rebel. The dream boy of every female. Boys wanted to be like him, girls wanted him as a boyfriend, teachers saw him as a nuisance who's hardly in school or attended classes but somehow aced all his classes. He's freaking hot with his tall lean intimidating height, coupled with his pretty face and his long jet black hair hanging on his shoulders to round off the ensemble. His water glass eyes that melted both boys and girls fixated on me.

"Godfather, are you saying…" "He took what's mine," I snarled, my fist shattering the windowpane. "That goddamn Russian." Blood seeped from my knuckles, but I didn't feel it. I was consumed by rage. She wasn't dead. She had literally cut a piece of herself away to be free of me. She would rather die than be mine. "Prep the jet," I ordered Marco. "Destination: Moscow." "Godfather, is that wise? It could—"

She demanded that I give up my position as his fiancée. This time, I refused. I rebelled with a fury I had never known. After a massive fight with my parents, I set the curtains on fire, smashed five cars in our garage, and destroyed half the house. In a fit of rage, my father sent me to Macro. "Turn Seraphina into a proper lady—then she won't have to come back. If she fails, she'll never return." My world plunged into darkness. But I wasn't about to give up. I turned my fury on Macro.

“I’m so sorry.” I keep moving. I stay low to the ground because the air is better there. I feel like a ghost. I’ve lived twenty-two years as a ghost in this pack, so I’m good at it. At the east water trough, the air is a little cooler, but the water is black with ash. “Maren? Is that you?” I turn around. It’s Reva. She’s leaning against the stone trough, holding her arm. There’s a deep cut there, and she’s got two little kids tucked behind her legs. They’re crying.

"You're quite popular around here, you know." I scoffed. "The only place my fame blooms in, is Greenville and it's for a bad cause." I answered dryly. "Greenville might know you as the son of a traitor but outside Greenville, you're known as The Rebellious Alpha." He replied and immediately some of his friends looked back at us. "I'm no Alpha, Gabriel." "Well you are, you do have Alpha blood running through your veins and of course, you're the only man who challenged Alpha Jason's position." Gabriel explained. "So technically, you're the rebellious Alpha."

So, we created a scene in which we made Laura and Damien believe that 'Rebel' was dead. Rebel is a short version of Rebellious, which is what everyone here calls her, since she is known for her rebellious personality. She never stopped herself from trying whatever it was to escape her present. She is exactly her mother's daughter, which is annoying. I never got to see her or come here since I knew that the werewolves were keeping an eye on me, and I couldn't take the risk of being exposed to the enemies. Unlike me, Tristan sacrificed his sixteen years to keep an eye

She closes her brown eyes and next they know,she opens them again, but now with a hazel glint shining in them. The Rebel was in control. Let the fight begin.

Maya cried out and Naya slapped her. "What's that for?" Maya glared at her. "To reset your brain. We didn't come here for this, behave Maya." Maya huffed and looked away, not throwing a fit anymore and finally going silent. "We need your help Jeremy," I faced him, and I became serious, taking a sit beside Naya. "What could you possibly need my help with?" He frowned, looking baffled. I exchanged smiles with the girls and they nodded in approval. "We are starting a rebel group and you're the only guy we're letting in on this," I informed him and he frowned.