Sonic Never Trust How You Feel Novels & Stories

Lucian roared, his voice yanking me back. He was behind a steel drum, firing with deadly precision, his face a mask of cold furry. But then he glanced at me, his gray eyes locking on mine, and for a split second, I saw something—concern? It threw me, made my chest ache in a way I couldn’t name. He trusted me, or at least he thought he did, and that trust was a knife twisting in my gut. I was here to betray him, to end him, but why did that feel so wrong?

She was trying to completely ruin my reputation. Just when I was at a loss, Blaze called. His voice was calm and steady. "I've seen the articles online. Don't be afraid, and don't respond. Leave it to me." "But..." "Trust me." His simple yet firm response inexplicably reassured me.

Not with him. “I feel something,” I admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Not the same as what I feel with you. It’s different. Quieter. But it’s there. And it scares the shit out of me because I don’t know how to trust it. I don’t know how to trust anyone after what Adrian did.” Nico didn’t pull away. He just listened, eyes steady on my face. “Tell me.”

"I'm sorry for doubting your love for me." "It's okay, I understand that what you're thinking is just how you've been told to think for the past month. We're all here for you while you start to get your confidence back," I tell him. "Thank you," Marcus smiles. "I told him about me taking over the club," Damian says and I nod. I didn't think it was a good idea but Damian isn't as affected by what Adrian did like Marcus is. Damian says he's feeling good enough to run the club for a while so we don't have to worry about it. I'm worried about him getting bad memories from being in a bdsm club but he's adamant he's fine.

His voice was raw, hoarse from thirst and exhaustion. Tears streaked down his face as he whimpered, "I'm very good. I don't make trouble. Please don't leave me." I screamed beside him, my words desperate and useless. "I would never leave you! My baby, you're my most precious one!" But he couldn't hear me. I sat by his side, pretending, wishing I could hold him close just one more time. Two days. Bill was still MIA, probably off playing house with Ima while Luca starved in ours.

"Let me show you my magic room first." Mi cherry? The endearment made my skin crawl. But he was already opening the door, and curiosity, stupid, dangerous curiosity, made me follow. The moment the door swung open, sound crashed over me like a physical force. Music. Loud, pounding electronic music that made my ribcage vibrate. Bass so deep I felt it in my bones. The room beyond was chaos rendered in neon.

I could tell that he sounded so done with whatever was happening. "But that's the only way. We can offer something else in return." She tried to put another option. She sounded so calm and sweet. Her voice sounded like she was singing a song even when she was just talking and that too very politely. "I did but they don't want anything else. They just want to destroy me and snatch what is mine." He sounded so tired. I didn’t know what was "Don't worry, Ryan. We will find our way out of it." She sounded confident and it seemed like Ryan trusted her because he didn’t reply for a moment and I could hear her mumble something to him I couldn’t understand.

I simultaneously become the kept man of three powerful, high-ranking women. The first is the aloof Grand Tutor, Misty Standish. Her heart belongs solely to her childhood sweetheart, the son of the chancellor's legal wife. The second is the rakish Marchioness, Sienna Fairfax. She flutters her fan and chuckles. "We both get what we want. There's no need to complicate business with feelings." The third is the all-powerful Princess Royal, Christina Livingstone. "Know your place. My consort will only ever be a nobleman," she coldly warns me. Everything changes when I save up enough money and return to my hometown to marry my childhood sweetheart and fiancee, Claire Mortimer. Ms. Standish l

My parents are music professors, and their university is always hosting these music salons and exchange events. But they never took me. After I graduated from college, I was desperate to see what it was like, so I begged my mother for a visitor's pass. She was busy helping my sister Ella fill out an application for one of those concerts, and she cut me off cold: "Everyone attending is a top-tier musician. You can't even read sheet music—walking in there, you'd just stick out like a sore thumb." A few days later, I stood in the freezing wind, listening to the applause rolling out from the auditorium. My sister stood at center stage, performing alongside a bunch of renowned musicians. That nig

When I'm brought back to the Gould family, Matthew Gould, the adopted son who's taken my place all these years, doesn't even bother putting on an act. The first thing he does is punch me square in the face. "So what if you're the real son? Mom and Dad already told me all the family assets will be mine, and that you're not getting a dime!" I don't take it lying down. I hit him back even harder, then drag him straight to Mom and Dad, his face swollen almost beyond recognition. "Is what he said true?" I demand. Mom and Dad look panicked, putting on placating smiles as they scramble to explain. "Of course not! You're both our sons. We'd never treat either of you differently." I raise an eye