Ronan 소설 & 이야기

It's telling me that there is something unusual about the auras these men emit. “ Yeah, it's her,” Santino voice is flat. He fixes me with a bored look. “ She must be brave if she thinks she can murder a dragon with a fork.” The rugged one laughs, and my eyes shoot back to him. He putts a large cigar to his lips, he takes a drag and the tip of glows orange as a thin plume of smock rises. He removes the cigar from his lips and puffs out some smock. The act makes him look so fucking sexy in all his muscle glory standing there.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

I bolt upright, heart slamming against my ribs. Ronan stands in the doorway, filling it completely. He’s barefoot, wearing only loose black pants that hang low on his hips. No shirt. The firelight from the hall spills across his chest, catching on the faint scars that crisscross his skin and the dark tribal tattoos curling over his left shoulder and down his arm. His silver eyes gleam in the dim light. He doesn’t speak at first. Just steps inside and closes the door behind him with a soft click.

I’m about to open my mouth to tell him yes, to tell him to do it right now, but the door behind us bursts open. The wood hits the wall with a deafening crack. I jump, spinning around. Ronan is standing in the doorway. He’s shirtless. My breath hitches in my chest, and for a second, I forget how to speak. Ronan is a mountain of a man. His skin is a map of scars and tattoos, jagged white lines from knives, round puckers from bullets, and the dark, bold ink of the Nightborne Pack across his ribs. His chest is broad, covered in a light dusting of dark hair that disappears into the waistband of his low-slung jeans. His abs are deep-c

"Want you to stay. Why are you always leaving, Jack? You're a healer. Heal the ache." I sighed, catching him under the arm. The man was a beast on the ice—the most feared enforcer in the National Hockey League—and even more terrifying in the forest, but tonight he was just a giant, stubborn nuisance. "I’m a medical examiner for the Lunar Forensics Lab, Ronan, not a miracle worker for your hangovers. Now, what’s the passcode? I need to get you inside before the Pack Enforcers see their Alpha acting like a lost pup." Ronan leaned down, his nose brushing the sensitive skin of my neck. I felt the sharp prick of his canines against m

There he was. Ronan. Alpha of the Ashfang pack. Towering. Wet. Dripping. A towel slung low on his hips like it belonged there, casually disrespecting every ounce of self-control I had left. His abs were carved from stone. His waist? Unfair. A tattoo curled around his arm and crept slightly over his chest, like it had a story it was dying to whisper. I didn’t even want to think about how good he looked soaked and glistening like a forbidden rain god. “I—I—I saw nothing!” I yelped, clamping my eyes shut like that could erase what had just burned itself into my memory.

RONAN: Exhaustion hit me like a truck after the endless run and the stealthy tail on Harlan. My muscles burned, my lungs raw from the cold air. I couldn't keep going without rest or food, or I'd be no use to Lyra when I found her. I shifted back to human form in a thick grove of trees, scavenging some wild berries and drinking from a stream to take the edge off. It wasn't much, but it steadied me enough to think. I crouched low, watching the road from the shadows. Not long after, a black SUV rumbled past Harlan's. I recognized the plates, the scent. A dark smirk pulled at my lips. Perfect timing.

I look down the wide corridor, my breath hitching when my eyes land on him. Ronan. He's standing in the doorway to the bedroom, his sharp eyes observing my every move like a hawk's. He's standing straight and his face is expressionless, so I can't really say if he's angry or happy to see me. He's tall — over six point five — and built as a tree trunk. His hair is dark and long, falling over his shoulder. His got his left hand on the wall, leaning against it, and a whiskey bottle in his right which he grips tighter as he watches me with the same fiery hunger as the betas outside. Thick stubble lines his jawline, his lips full, his biceps bulging and sleek with

And a second later, Leon's head was lying on the table, he had passed out from drinking too much. Diana quickly raised Alpha Darren's hand in the air. Then Canis started clapping. “Congratulations Alpha Darren, you won! You will get a special prize from Leon!” Everyone clapped including Diana. Diana looked at Cartis, "good job. Thank you.”

"It's only my favorite hat." Theo winks at Julian and before I can over-analyze it, the front door opens up one more time. It takes me a split-second to acknowledge who the fuck is shifting outside. My head whips around towards Julian. "What the fuck?!" I shout, breaking free of Julian's hand to place it over my mouth. Julian just chuckles as Ronan Cross, bassist for Glass Saints approaches our entourage. Ronan is the only guy on the planet that can make Theo look like an ordinary-sized human being. Julian claps his hand into Ronan's massive palm and the two of them pound each other on the back li