Superbook Michael Novels & Stories

And I knew it would make him even tell me more about how he was capable of finding Leo. Michael sat up, flexing his shoulders as he said, “It isn't really that big of a deal.” I looked curious and amazed as I said, “But seriously? How do you do it? Getting people to obey you and all. I mean, that makes you one of the most powerful men in the world.”

Brahmin. "Michael, you are indeed blessed by the gods to be a leader," said Mr. Helius. "Perhaps it is fate that the universe has planned our meeting," Michael replied. Michael's eyes turned from blue to fiery red, indicating that he was angry and did not want to make a second mistake. The elders were shocked by Michael's sudden change, knowing that when Michael was angry his power was immense and capable of destroying the werewolf world. He was the incarnation of a great god who had been born in the werewolf world, and he would be even more perfect if he was paired with Alexa.

Leon once described a stripper he admired as having no cushion for the pushin’. Can he win back Juliette if he had the facts? That was the question Michael would consider giving away his fortune for. But until then, he’d carry on with his other plan that included Aria. Determine her willingness and competence to meet his requirements. Finally clean, Michael stepped out of the shower and dried off. He went into his bedroom and picked up his phone. With a few clicks, A.K. Crusader’s books downloaded to his tablet. He stretched out on his bed naked to let the air dry his body fully and opened the first novel.

He longed to express his appreciation and to convey how deeply her book had touched his soul. As he leaned back in his chair, a resolve crystallized within Michael. He would find a way to personally reach out to Tuberose, to thank her for the magic she had bestowed upon his life. Perhaps their meeting would serve as the beginning of a meaningful connection, where two creative souls could collaborate and weave more tales of love, redemption, and success.

But this time, the people he killed are not just people but direct core members of the overlord of the UK, and now the remaining fake-in-good terms we have with them are finally broken. "What an ass," I said. "Michael," I called, and a young man in a black suit rushed into the office and bowed lightly. He is two years older than me, making him twenty-four years old. Amongst all our mafias, he is one of the best-trained strong ones. "I need you to go to my eldest brother, Adonis, and tell him what Arthur just did so he and Father will be prepared for whatever the UK territory has to say," I said, picking up another file. "But, you can just call him and inform him of that. You know that once I

the stranger said. Lifting my head slowly, I look up. Wide eyes, I whisper his name. “What are… you doing here, Michael?” I mumbled. “I came… to help…” Michael said. Michael was an old warlock. You could say ancient. He has kept his identity hidden. He was supposed to be dead, but he wasn’t. He was one of the oldest warlocks alive. “You look like crap,” I said. “Well, thanks to you,” Michael said, smirking.

Michael opened his mouth to continue speaking, but I was already shaking my head as I pinched the bridge of my nose. “That was what this all led to?” I asked, arching a brow at him in disbelief. “The whole thing about the auras they had, everything you’ve told me was tying up to this? Of course they had special abilities, Michael. Like you and me.” I started to list them off my fingers. “Faster healing periods, speed—” “IF YOU WANT TO SAVE LAYLA, LISTEN TO ME!” Michael barked suddenly without warning, slamming his fist into the Oakwood table as he half stood from his seat.

Sophia could not remember the last time they laughed or did things together, Michael would never stay at home, he was the problem, she thought, only if he would change. She was still looking at Michael as he checked the peephole, he wore a stripped shirtsleeved shirt on a pair of jeans, at that time Sophia met him, he was a dream come true for her, Michael was about six feet tall, dark in complexion and broad shoulders, he was the CEO of Classic, the best NYC magazine company, he was the kind of man many ladies will throw off their home training for, with his dressing, and his killer smile, Michael was the perfect description of a male God.

Michael called me and said, "I got the magical alarm, who did you kill, Drax?" I replied, "Rogues," and he said, "Is the blood lust over or do you need me to come down there and suck your cock?" I cursed him, "Fuck off, you fucking fairy, my cock is too good for you." Michael laughed and said, "I am still stationed in Europe for a few more years, so be good." I told him I was good after he had sung to me to calm me down. My instinct is always to go to Michael for anything, even with my blood lust, I killed so many rogues, I was a raging bloodaholic, and I trust him with my life still after all these years. He hug me for fifteen minutes when I came back, and I must say I had missed the fuckin

“I’m not your wife. I’m not your property. I don’t love you. I’m not afraid of you anymore. Come near me again, and I’ll kill you myself.” Michael’s smile was cold, almost amused. “There she is. The super fighter. It doesn’t matter. I’ve already won. I have everything I want. My father is dead. I’m The Broker now. I always win. Oh, and thank you for killing Margaret, by the way. We make a great team. Join me. We’d be unstoppable.” “I have nothing to say to you except this: sign the damn papers when they arrive. We’re done.” Michael stared at me, jaw tight, anger simmering beneath every word he refused to say.