Stiles Novels & Stories

If you were really really lucky, then at most three stakes would be enough but if you weren't, then then the last thing you would see would be their sharp fangs head right at you and slit your neck open. He gulped, sensing rage and frustration in Levi's words, "Y-yes, Master Levi." and stepped on the gas. The car drove further out the city but he didn't bother to see the beautifully lit and boisterous city at his right. He checked, again and again his schedule and absurdly they all needed his secretary; the woman he'd been craving for almost a whole year, to be completed.

Stiles walked over to the hearth and gently set me down on a thick, incredibly soft bear-fur rug right in front of the fire. He stepped back, brushing the melting snow off his muscular arms. Then, he paused. He looked down at me, huddled on the rug, clutching the edges of the travel cloak tightly around my neck to hide the fact that I was completely naked underneath. Stiles suddenly blinked, a faint, undeniable blush creeping up his neck. He looked down at his own state—standing in front of a traumatized woman, dripping wet, wearing absolutely nothing but a pair of dark boxers. "Right. Sorry. Clothes," S

“So what now?” “Now,” Elena said, “we find whoever’s been watching.” As if on cue, footsteps echoed from the upper balcony. A man descended the staircase slowly, his steps measured. He wore a long coat, his hair streaked with gray, his face both familiar and foreign. “Elena Romano,” he said, his accent smooth, European. “I never thought I’d see the heir of the stolen pride standing here.” Elena’s pulse quickened. “Who are you?”

Rosie brought Dansanisa up in a good and fine way of home management when it come to the things around the kitchen. Rosie loved and cared for Dansanisa a lot since the death of her husband who got knocked down by a trailer just when he turned to give directions using his hands to gesture it for the other cars to drive pass since it's was their turn to go. He was a road safety police who stood in the middle of the road constructed container to give directions to cars in order to avoid too much accident on the road, jamming each other.

"I rather slam my tongue on a door than go out with him. I don't have a thing for sweet guys" "Ooh, you like the ones that would rough you up like Mr. Martinez" Bell teased the other. Mystique scoffed. "Definitely not that asshole" "Now am beginning to believe you are stalking me," a hard voice said behind them and both girls turned to find their Intruder, only to be met with a chilling stare that could melt even ice. Mr. Damien Martinez stood there elegantly, wearing a black suit, his hair messy but attractive and his hands buried in his front pockets as he stared coldly at the two before his company.

President enticed him using the highest position as thee chief of staff, but the cold and aloof Jude rejected totally. This same Jude was the one whom Alexis was able to exchanged blow with and still remained standing. therefore the security trying to stopped Alexis from advancing towards the restaurant, looked to be the biggest joke ever knew and heard, because Alexis just dodge all the men as they all make attempt to stopped her, the men all appeared like they were all slow as a snail to Alexis.

When Don saw Phelan, his eyes burned with hate. He bellowed—a sound that was somewhere between a yell, a moo, and a really loud belch. “Hey, Phelan,” She then shouted back. “Didn't I kill you already?” He pounded his fist into the dress she wore, and it crumpled like aluminum foil. A few dracaenae threw flaming javelins at her. She knocked them aside. A hellhound lunged, and she sidestepped. She could have stabbed it, but She hesitated. “This is not Mrs. O'Leary”, Don said to himself. This is an untamed wolf. It will kill me and all my friends.

Her words were a poignant reminder of the studio’s transformative power, turning pain into a shared experience and a catalyst for healing. Even Elian returned—this time with a small group of artists he now mentored. They called themselves “The Staymakers.” Their gift: a framed illustration of the fan, sunflower, and shelf… titled: “How We Learned to Belong.” The artwork was a visual representation of the studio’s nurturing environment, a place where individuals could find their place and grow together.

"If you break up, then just break up! No need to insult your ex, right? What's that rubbish mouth you have?!" Cherry didn't know Green would be so brave like that, after saying that, she pulled out Cherry's hand to get away from the two treacherous humans, ignoring Zein, the one that was shouting at her. Before perfectly going, Green staring at Violet, she looked at that woman with that intimidating gaze. "and you? listen to this, you're happy by stoling someone else's happiness, you're a traitor! Everything will not last long, sooner or later you will also be dumped by this bastard!" Green said, emphasizing the word bastard, staring at Zein's face, looking at the man in disgust.

Because I saw how their arrangements inside the jeepney were. Allistair is inside and exactly last seat beside me. I'm in the doorstep or the entrance of the jeep. Holding firmly while he were sitting beside me with nothing but a piece of thin galvanized iron sheet. As I've said, I thought everything will go smoothly, not until someone beside him spoke up. I noticed that he isn't just anyone from his team. It was Claude, the Claude Verganza! Holy god, Claude Verganza and Allistair Montero in one crowded public vehicle. Can you imagine that?