The Sandman の小説・ストーリー

he said, and I immediately answered, "It's Fantasia No. 4 C Minor by Mozart." He nodded. Someone who really wanted to know would either take out their phone and jot it down or immediately search for the song on YouTube. And I wondered what this man was really asking me. "Are you a student here?" I asked, because his gaze seemed to indicate that he still wanted to talk to me. "No," he answered quickly. Then he reached out his hand to me and smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. My name is Orion Evans."

He scrutinized it for a long time before saying, "I wouldn't have expected any less of a proper lady of the Chapman family. Your embroidery is top-notch." Something occurred to him, and he pulled out a green moonstone pendant from his sleeve. He gave it to me. "My mother gave this to me, saying that it would keep me safe. I've kept it with me all these years while battling our enemies. I'll give it to you now if you don't mind having it." I saw streaks of blood on the pendant and knew that it had been with Gideon through many life-and-death situations. How could I possibly accept it?

[Snow] One thing that I am glad about with human biological imprints is that no matter how stressed and hurt a person can be, the body knows when to rest and shut everything off, letting me sleep dreamlessly. The following day, feather-light caresses roused me up. At first, in my half-asleep state, I thought it was Damon, considering how many times he had disrupted me in the middle of my sleep. But then, I would immediately recognize his touch. His palm was rough, and his hand was heavy. This one is the exact opposite. Smooth and light like the angel’s touch or like one from a mother.

The voice said, and I felt the wind against my face as I was lifted higher and higher into the air. I woke up in a dark room. I looked at my hands, they were white as snow. I touched the side of my neck that I remembered was bitten away, but no wound or injury, not even the feel of a scar. I noticed someone beside me, a dark skinned young man. "Who are you?" "I am Jhan, you could not be around humans beings because the smell of their blood would awaken your urge, it will be uncontrollable—" "Why? Why did you let me live?"

what the hell sandra? Snap out of it! he just doing this for his reputation.

Once it’s signed, it will be posted six days a week. I know everyone is anticipating the next of my werewolf series, but at the moment, my brain needs a break from the werewolf universe. Never fear, though; Sicilian Holiday (D'Amore holiday short story), The Genius Delta (Silvercloud/Persephone), The Quiet Giant's Mate (Regina/Ivan), Beta's Innocent Mate (Alexander/Delilah), Beta's Twin Mates (Zoe/Gunnar/Henrik), and The Hybrid's Vampire (Sage/Auðr) will be written when I'm in that head space. So please bear with me. I promise these books will be written, but all good things come to those who wait and are worth the wait.

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE

War Drums The cracked phone screen cast harsh light across Sandro’s face, turning his features into something demonic. Elena watched the color drain from his expression as the surveillance clip ended, leaving only the damning freeze-frame of Luca handing over the USB drive like it was nothing. “Motherfucker,” Sandro snarled, voice low and lethal. He set the ruined phone down carefully this time, though his fingers lingered as if he wanted to crush it into dust. The tender man who had just worshipped her in the shower was gone. In his place stood the Don, cold, calculating, and ready for war.

He spread it over me without asking permission, his movements efficient but not unkind. My hand shot out before I could think better of it, catching his wrist as he started to pull away, my fingers wrapping around the corded muscle and tendon I remembered too well. He froze, looking down at where we connected, then slowly raised his eyes to mine. "Sandra—" "Don't go yet." The words tumbled out desperate and pathetic. "I hate the dark, I can't sleep in complete darkness, it's too quiet down here and I keep thinking about—" I let the sentence die because I didn't know how to finish it, didn't know if I was thinking about Damon's rejection or my father's death or the way Marcus had made me forg

Just as Aiden had ventured into a strange and dangerous land for his own gains, there was another who was doing the same. This person was a smallish old man who was slightly bent over a thin black cane. On his left hand were several ornaments; for each finger was adorned with a silver ring. He had short black hair with streaks of gray running through it. This man was one that was regarded as the most shrewd of the enemies that the Beastmen had to face. He wasn’t the strongest enemy there was, but if one asked any of the Beast Elders who they’d rather not face, they would mention this man’s name. This man was Elder Sand.