The One Who Shall Grip Novels & Stories

Surrounded by the crowd's excitement, Xander blushed and reluctantly bit down on one end of the cookie. The butter cookie was so fragile that it quickly teetered on the verge of breaking. To keep it from falling, Xander and Natasha had no choice but to inch closer. The crowd grew louder, chanting, "Kiss! Kiss!" Finally, their lips brushed against each other. With a sharp crack, the cookie shattered and fell to the floor. Xander's earlobes quickly turned red, and he lowered his gaze, his lashes trembling. It was obvious he felt something for Natasha.

He stuttered. “You work for who?” I slammed my fist across the table, unable to contain my anger. “I can't tell you. They…they would…kill me.” He whimpered as his lips quivered. I smirked lightly and brought the knife closer to his throat. I pressed against it, not so deep, but enough force to cause blood to seep out. “I would kill you before they do. Tell me who they are and you will be spared.” “I can't.” I hissed in annoyance. One of the many things I hated was when someone wasted my time. I took the knife and in a second, the thumb on his right hand fell to the ground. He screamed in pain, struggling to free himself from the ropes.

he says. “I know,” I breathe. For one second, everything steadies. Then the figure tightens its grip. “Not yet,” it says. The pull hits again. Opposite direction. Harder than before. Mark’s grip tightens instantly. “No.” My arm strains between them. Pain shoots through my shoulder. “Mark,” I gasp. “I am not letting go,” he growls. The figure’s gaze sharpens. “You will,” it says. “Try me,” Mark snaps.

I saw him tighten his grip on them which causes them to scream in pain. Damn!

My grip tightened further and I could feel my hand about to snap his neck off his head. Then—

I whimper, helpless in the restraint of sensation, caught between frustration and bliss. Nathan’s hand remains at my throat, not squeezing but holding, grounding me as the rest of me feels like it might float away. His other hand grips my thigh, spreading me open, keeping me displayed like a prize. His grip is firm, possessive, and I can’t tell whether it steadies me or simply winds me tighter. Then Theo rises from his seat.

Presently, her heart was beating inside her chest; fear had already engulfed her. The night creature listened to her heartbeat as it thudded inside her slim chest. Her lips were slightly parted, caught between fear and curiosity. Her entire body had gone stiff, her breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps. He extended his hand toward her. Slowly she placed her trembling fingers in his, and before she could reconsider, his grip closed around them like a vice. Her heart thudded in fear and realization; the way he grabbed her hands only showed how captive she was. With a grip like this, it would take forever to get away.

Before I could complete the step, his hand shot down, his long, strong fingers wrapping like an iron shackle around the back of my retreating calf, just below the knee. The sudden, inescapable grip immobilized me instantly, locking me perfectly in place against his body. The sheer, dominating sexual tension in that single, commanding gesture made the breath vanish from my lungs. "Where exactly do you think you're going?" he murmured against my ear, his breath hot, possessive, and incredibly dangerous.

Since when did my free soul become his pack property? Subconsciously, my muscles try to pull my wrist away from his tight grasp. However, his giant fingers only tighten their heavy grip on my hand, like his inner wolf is completely afraid my legs will run away into the forest from him.

"There is no *this*. You're overthinking." A dark, bitter laugh clawed its way up my throat. I pushed off the counter and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, my grip tight and unforgiving, bunching the cotton in my fists. He gasped, his large hands flying up to grip my wrists, but he didn't push me away. He just held on, his long fingers digging into my skin like anchors.