The Originals Vincent Novels & Stories

"I did not actively pursue her, sir. We were simply drawn to each other through the circumstances we were in. It was absolutely not a planned situation on either of our ends." "It never is planned, is it?" My father leaned all the way back in his chair, crossing his legs. "Tell me about yourself, son. Where exactly are you from? What is your actual background before you started working for the Castillos?" "I grew up right here in the heart of the city, sir," Vincent said, laying out his cover story with total confidence. "My parents are both deceased now, having passed away when I was younger. I have absolutely no siblings to speak of. I decided to join the military the exact week I turned e

"Does that mean you want to be on your own?" "Can I be on my own but still have protection?" "Of course. You will have protection from us for as long as you need or want," Shannon pulled into a parking spot at the Hefton Motel. *** Rachel's POV Settled in for the night, Shannon was watching TV. I was laying on one of the beds. I felt frustrated, unsettled. "Shannon, can we go for a run?" Surprised, she looked over at me. "You mean as werewolves?"

"Caitlin!" It was Vincent. He had come to the racetrack to ride, but didn’t expect to run into his goddess here. Now that she was divorced from Sebastian, he thought he might have a chance. "Vincent." Caitlin responded indifferently. She wasn’t fond of the men from The Vanderbilt Family. Vincent got out of the car, surprised and excited, "I didn’t expect to see you here. Did you come here to ride horses too?" "I’ve already ridden. I’m heading back."

He looks energetic—like a golden retriever. “I've already introduce myself, but I'll do it again.” Vincent said “I'm Vincent, the boss' first bodyguard and second hand. I'm honored to look after you, madam.” On the other hand, Vincent was more relax. He remained calm as he introduce himself like a butler. If Dion is a golden retriever, Vincent is a black cat. Their energy are opposite to each other but that's what makes it better. “I'm really pleased that you arrived in his life. When he met you online, I disagreed on pursuing you—but he didn't listen to me and still followed his heart. I'm truly happy.” he added

“She’s a friend of your girlfriend, yet you’re responsible for her recent employment?” “I’ve made mistakes.” Vincent abruptly stood and extended his hand, first to Oren. “We will go now. My men are your men as long as you need them.” Oren met him as we all stood. “Thank you.” Vincent turned to me, extending his hand again. “My men need a name.” “Vincent,” Oren began, “I think we’re working on it.”

She knew that I was avoiding her, as any sane person would. “Well, here I am.” She directed a playful eye roll at the older man. “This one, he gets his attitude from his father. Dorian, I’d officially like you to meet Sir Vincent Mendalv, the-” “King of vampires and one of the originals, I know. It’s a pleasure meeting the man who’d once plagued North Creekville into their darkest time yet and sent most of my kind to their early death.” With a tight lipped smile, I stretched out my hand towards the blood sucking leach.

I also knew it was probably a trap. But the trap was the point. Vincent kept a backup set of documents in his Bentley—not the real ones, not anymore. I'd already given Dominic the actual evidence weeks ago, the digital trails and account numbers that would eventually hang him. What I needed now was the performance. The version of me Vincent expected: desperate, reckless, willing to risk everything to retrieve what she thought were the originals.

Marcus stands by the door, his presence a gentle reassurance, but his eyes watchful, tracking Helen-Nora's every move. "Vincent found me about five years ago," she starts, eyes on the floor. "I was rock bottom-bills piling up, no work, no prospects. I'd been gambling, trying to scramble out of the hole I'd dug myself into, but it just created more issues. I was in a dirty apartment not too far from here, just surviving. I was out one night, drunk, when this guy came slinking into the booth next to me. Slicked-back hair, nice suit, snake eyes. That was Vincent."

He must be a very important guest. Vincent led me straight into the private VIP lounge, stepping up to a small circle of the security guards who immediately moved aside for him. “Mr. Virell,” Vincent called out respectfully. “Thank you for taking the time to meet us. I would love to introduce you to my brilliant business partner and the original founder of our firm, Tyla.” The tall, commanding figure in the center of the circle slowly turned around to face us. And my perfectly, professional and flawless smile froze instantly on my lips.

My gaze met with a pair of hazel eyes, my mouth parting slightly. "Vincent," I said, taking a step back. His gaze roamed down my body shamelessly, his eyes darkening slightly. He was wearing a dark grey t-shirt and black jeans, his arms and neck fully covered with tattoos. He was tall, taller than Logan by probably an inch. Vincent’s face was covered with a beard, making him look more attractive and dangerous. Vincent is Micah's eldest son and he is 20 years old.