Tristan Winters Novels & Stories

He patted Rowan's back and left the janitor's closet while adjusting his wig another time. "Wait does that mean you planned to give me detention every day. What the hell Tristan!! " Rowan whinned as he caught the hidden intentions of the evil piano teacher. He just followed Tristy aka Tristan dressed up as a woman, to start his little mission but both Tristan and Rowan failed to notice a person who caught them coming from the janitor's closet. ...............

I say. Tristan jerks up his head, his eyes … the same hazel as my own … are hard, his mouth set in a thin line. “I’ve not seen you in months and that’s how you greet me?” I almost blurt out that it seems fair play. After not seeing me in twelve years, Tristan had merely reached back, grabbed a tumbler, poured whiskey in it, and set it at the edge of the desk. His face had held no expression, his eyes had been as calm as the sea before a storm. There had been no surprise, no rising from his seat, no embrace. His first words? ‘Stephan has yet to show’.

Everyone in high society whispered that Tristan Webster kept a tame, submissive trophy girlfriend on his arm. That image shattered at a yacht party when a newcomer pointed at me and asked the room, "Wait, isn't she the legendary woman who slept with Tristan's best friends in one night just to get back at him for cheating?" The room fell dead silent. Tristan's childhood friends sat around the poker table, their expressions unreadable. Tristan, however, simply swirled the wine in his glass and lounged against the leather sofa before casually beckoning me over. "Come here." I walked over without a word and lit his cigarette for him. "Sorry, she caused such a scene back then," he said smoo

“Down dog. I am offering my help.” I look at him quizzically as he casually leans against a tree with his arms crossed. He has dark jeans on with a plain black tee shirt and black leather jacket. The stranger has thick black hair and brown eyes. He eerily looks like Ryan and I notice Isaac immediately bends down on one knee like he is addressing royalty or something. “Who are you?” I get more annoyed as the stranger smirks and tells Isaac to stand as if he vexed with my question. “My name is Tristan. I’m Ryan’s brother.”

What was going on? Tristan—the president of Drunham City Connoisseurs—actually apologized respectfully to a loser who married into his wife's family! Hunter and the seven bosses were all stunned. The sense of foreboding grew stronger as well. Liam was indifferent toward Tristan's respectful attitude. He was exuding the might of a distinguished man. It was as if he was born to be a king and that others should bow at his feet. "So, you're the Tristan Xander, the president of Drunham City Connoisseurs?" Liam asked calmly.

"You have to do something! What do you mean she may never be able to shift? Isn't modern medicine advanced enough to pump toxins out of the body?!" "Tristan," Nathan called. He attempted to pull Tristan back, but that failed. I sat in the hospital bed, mortified. Adonis had a heavy expression on his face. So did Celia, and so did Nathan, who kept trying to pull Tristan off the doctor. "I'm sorry, Miss Winter." The doctor said when Tristan finally let him go, “But there's nothing we can do." "Bullshit!" Tristan exploded. "That's fucking bullshit!" Judging by their reactions, my being a white wolf must mean something vital to them.

He was still very hurt from his last encounter with Marissa. “Oh, Tristan is being modest,” Tina chirped, her voice like a sharpened flute. “He’s been working eighteen-hour days. He’s the visionary. I just make sure the ‘distractions’ stay out of his way. We’re actually looking at a private jet next month. Commercial travel is just... well, you all know how it is.” “To Tristan!” Marcus toasted, and the table followed suit. “To the man who actually made it. To the king of the Vance Empire!”

And now he’s keeping to the promise he made to me five years ago; TO HELP ME RUIN CARLTON. Though everything he just said might sound almost impossible but when it’s coming from Tristian, I’ve no doubt. No fear. Tristian is a top rated most eligible and influential bachelor around the globe who could easily get anything done at the snap of his finger. Not exaggerating. Everything is literally at his disposal.

Tristan pats his back and then walks away. I refuse to upset Shane because he's on a natural high from seeing Tristan. He's going on and on about how awesome, fantastic, and phenomenal he is! I put on my Oscar-winning performance for him and listened as if interested. While Shane boasts of Tristan, I'm observing how wonderful he looks. Due to the winter months, he's paler than usual but still darker than most. He's grown a little more hair, making him look more office-ready than army-ready. His hands are well-manicured. His clear polish is still shiny. But those eyes made me want to cry when he walked away. Tristan's gorgeous, and those eyes are spellbinding.

Warriors spread out, securing the perimeter, setting up fires, ensuring everything was safe. I pushed open the door and stepped out, inhaling the crisp night air. The scent of pine and earth filled my lungs, but it did nothing to ease the tension coiled inside me. I turned to leave, needing space, but before I could take a step— “Jessica.” His voice was deep, rough from disuse. I froze. He hadn’t spoken to me since we left. I bit the inside of my cheek before glancing over my shoulder. “What?” Tristan stood by the car, his dark eyes locked onto mine. The firelight flickered against his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the unreadable expression in his gaze.