Thomas X Percy Novels & Stories

I threw my hands up knowing there was no other way around this argument, "Fine, alright! What do you have for us?" Thomas's coffee brown eyes observed me for a while. I noticed his lip tug sideways into a smirk. Did I forget to mention Xander and Thomas were brothers? Well Xander is the oldest being 22 while. Thomas is 20. Xander is the wild and arrogant one while Thomas is the calm and reserve one, good with computers and minds his bloody business. "I found him but you guys won't like it." Okay that got my attention good. I raised a brow,

The next morning, Amelia couldn’t let it go. She found Penking in the kitchen making breakfast. The kids were still asleep. “I need to ask you something,” she said. He looked up. “Okay.” “Do you remember someone named Thomas? Thomas…” She realized she didn’t know his last name. “He worked for you twelve years ago. As an accountant or money handler.” Penking’s expression didn’t change. “Thomas Carter.” Her stomach dropped. “You remember him.”

It wasn’t long before Hera ditched her friend and headed back to the peace of her tent, practically storming off. Once inside, Thomas heard her yelling at Gitana’s guy. “Get out!” He waited. “I didn’t sign up for this, Bruce. If you don’t leave, I will, and to hell with your court, fancy dresses, tent, and everything else!” The guy stepped back and kept watch by the tent's entrance. Thomas carefully moved around the canvas, making sure to act casual. He traced his fingers along the tent until he found the straps he had loosened before.

She wouldn't use that compensation to buy something for Serena, would she? Violet added somberly, "If Thomas were watching from the heavens, he would surely be rolling in his grave." Kiera felt distressed and leaned on Carissa's shoulder. "Carissa, what kind of person was Thomas?" Carissa replied, "The Farrell family has always been a military household, but they've never had a truly outstanding general, so they haven't risen very high in rank. Thomas had the potential to become a renowned general on his own. He was skilled and intelligent, and he initially served under my maternal grandfather. Later, when my father went to the Southern Frontier, my grandfather saw this opportunity for Thoma

Thomas was uncomfortable with the expressionless appearance of the men and the visible vellum on the coat that proved the existence of weapons. They choose starters and mains, order a good wine, and when they start eating, Jack opens the conversation. - Thomas… I can call you Thomas, right? It wasn't right, but he couldn't do anything. - Of course. - Thomas, what can I do for you? - I have a thorn in my life that I want to get out of my way. - You mean Sebastian Jones? Obviously he knew. Guys like that know everything before everyone else. - Yes. I would very much like to see him out of my life.

Marcus had recruited him three years ago, offered him coin and protection, and Thomas had taken it without asking too many questions because the alternative was slow starvation in the lower city. Thomas’s chambers were barely larger than a closet. A narrow bed. A single chair. A shelf with three books. A man who owned almost nothing, which meant he had very little to lose if Marcus decided he was no longer useful. “You have it?” Marcus asked. Thomas’s hands trembled as he produced the sketch. Charcoal on expensive paper, crude but unmistakable. A king on his knees. A lord standing over him. The specific positioning that left nothing to interpretation. Marcus studied the image for a long mome

Thomas' attempts to sneak into the ceremony were met with failure. Later on, Lydia had complained to me in an immensely disgruntled tone. "That jackass was cradling a bottle of wine and pretending to be some lovesick man. When he got drunk, he kept calling Melody by your name. They ended up kissing and going to a hotel." Annoyed beyond belief, Xavier had reached the end of his patience. He asked his sister, who was the president of her own company, to help him deal with Thomas. Bastion Group was surrounded and attacked from all sides. The company barely survived.

More like a performer acknowledging applause. "Chains." Marcus dismounted, his face hard. "Now." They bound Thomas's wrists with silver-lined restraints. The kind meant for wolves who could shift. The kind meant to cause pain. Thomas didn't flinch. He looked at me instead. "You fought well." His voice was conversational, almost friendly. "Better than I expected for someone who just discovered what she is. But you're still missing the point." "The point is you lost." "Did I?" Thomas laughed—a genuine sound, delighted rather than bitter. "I'm exactly where I need to be. Inside your walls. In your custody. With access to your people and your secrets."

I noticed that Alexander had relocated from our table, and Percival approached me amid the lively dancing crowd. “What on earth happened back there?” Percival asked, helping to support my arm. I winced, applying pressure to my wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. “Do I have the name, Tommy Chino?” I mentioned. “He’s an individual dressed in formal attire. What do we know about him? Can you please tell me the location of X?”

I am not always in favor of capital punishment, but if anyone has earned it, it’s certainly Maximus. Dartmoth still has his forehead pressed to the floor. “Is Percy here?” I ask Zeke. “He’s on his way, Your Majesty,” he replies. “He was helping Jerim in the infirmary.” I nod. “Then we will wait.” The minutes tick by, and I can see sweat beading on the back of Dartmoth’s neck. Finally, Percival arrives, another half-fae man named Llewellyn Ashbow walking beside him. “General Ashbow,” I say. “Thank you again for all you did.”