The One Who Shall Grip Mga Nobela at Kwento

A raw hold, ancient and sharp, turns my insides to water. Fingers come to rest at last. One cradles my cheek, slow circles drawn by his thumb where Beatrice left her mark - soft, softer than breath. Heat blooms under that touch, sharp next to my chill. The second hand finds its way beneath my hair, strands caught between his knuckles, damp and tangled. Stillness holds us. This isn’t about love. Like roots pulling soil together, his grip holds me close - bound not by choice but gravity. He acts as though I might drift away without that weight.

Filthy male. With a booming snarl that reverberates all around me, his right palm ascends at an indecipherable speed to clamp around my neck and choke me in a controlled yet delicate grip. He is warning me. I must be afraid, I must run for my life. But I will not do so. I will never leave his side again. I will meet his beastly passion, his unrelenting dominance head-on.

A smile made it's way to her lips and her stomach flipped as hope sprang in her heart. "Turn around." He ordered and Maris was placed on Linda's back again. The crickets chipped and owls hooted, making the place more creepier than it was. They stopped at another destination and the bushes snapped, followed by the thumping of feet. Suddenly, a well built man stepped out of the bush, a blue crown resting on his head and a staff in his hand. He was shirtless and had great biceps that would have had Maris drooling if the situation wasn't serious. His eyes were shut and Maris glanced below his waist–he had on a mini material covering his groin like some kind of panties with a familiar symbol.

I drove my elbow toward his ribs. He caught it, his fingers biting into my flesh. “There’s a spark,” he breathed, his face close, eyes alight with a cruel delight. “But a spark is not a fire.” He used his grip to hurl me sideways. I let myself fall, rolling through the dirt and coming up in a crouch. He was already there. He grabbed the front of my tunic, yanking me up. For a second, I was pinned against him, his scent of leather and cold power all around me.

my mate says while gripping my hands tightly with a crazed look in his eyes. OH SHIT!

"Seems like we're going to have a 5-star meal tonight." Primo, still not aware, felt someone gripped both his wrist and arm. He was terribly surprised to see two men gripping his arms. "W-what a-are you doing s-sir? Let me go!" he pleaded feeling his body tense. His voice quivering and his whole body trembling. "Shhh calm down sweetie..." Primo shivered and wriggled hoping he can escape but he was held by two strong guys. Then the guy in front came close to him and touch Primo's face softly.

“I won’t let you! I—” Falvio reached out, fast, precise, and his hand closed around the child. Ines gasped, a sharp sound that cut through the roaring wind. “NO!” she screamed, claws of panic gripping at his arm. “Give him back! Give him back!” The child whimpered, sensing the tension, pressing against Ines’ chest as she strained against Falvio’s grip. Falvio’s eyes held hers, unblinking, unyielding. “I will not. He is mine. And you… you should have known the consequences of exposure. You should have known that defiance has a price.”

He held the both of her hands in one of his above her head. “ when I am talking to you bitch, all you have to do is to listen” he growled as he squeezed the grip on her mouth harder. Rudinastruggled to be free from his grip but it was like a fruitless attempt/ suddenly as if remembering something, he released the grip on her face and hands and moved back.

Its gaze burned crimson in the gloom, and a deep, victorious rumble echoed from its core as its taloned grip locked on my arm like iron. Marcus had laid an ambush.