Twisted Mga Nobela at Kwento

he smirked with a playful look on his face and I pursued my lips into a thin line. "Don't you ever try that again unless you want to be fired," I hissed, trying to sound angry. "You kissed me back too. So if I'm getting fired, I'm taking you down with me, sweetheart." he kept stirring his coffee with one hand while his other hand was stuffed inside his pocket. Oh no, he didn't. Even though I was so fucking mad at him, I couldn't help but noticed his messy hair, his tie which was undone, hanging loosely around his neck and the sleeves of his button-down shirt rolled up, showing off his sexy forearms. I could make out his perfect jawline from the side and my hands itched to run all over his da

It looked like he was replacing something else with softness…did that make any sense? I was starting to make less and less sense to myself. Have I ever made sense once in my life? I shook my head to clear it of whatever suddenly had my head in twists. Twists… Ria said we were all twisted up inside; some in good ways and some in bad ways. And Zayne was one of the humans twisted in a bad way. The question slowly sneaked into my head, like a whisper, or like a vine slowly wrapping around a tree. It caught me off guard and my lips betrayed me, just like that.

“Gigi, the way your body changes feels custom-made for this. Scott, keep using your tongue exactly like that, and I might actually pass out when I come.” The group keeps shifting into new combinations, vines and appendages guiding us into fresh, tangled positions that amplify every shared spark. Sweat, nectar, and pollen blend into a slick sheen, turning every movement into liquid friction. Voices overlap in teasing encouragement, ragged cries, and half-delirious laughter. Then the central stalk flares with brilliant light and lowers a new, thicker core into the center of our group. It is smoother than the others, its surface rippling with intricate, glowing veins. The remaining appendages w

He is aware of the seduction game, although you don’t need any rocket science problem to figure out my brittle attempt at the art of seduction. I one word, I suck. If someone did all things on me the same way, then I promised I would call the police for help, or run away, or do something that would involve madness. When I get the chance to sit in serene, I reply to everything on my head, and I see how creepy everything was. First of all, it will work, mayhap, if it’s someone who has these moves inside her. I now strongly believe a person is born with moves. Unfortunately, I don’t have them in me.

he whispered, low and smooth. "I feel dangerous," she breathed back, the thrill coursing through her. "Good. Keep that feeling." Mid-spin, Alessia caught sight of a masked figure slipping through a staff door — a crescent tattoo peeking from behind his ear. Her heart raced. "Nik. It’s the Serpent. Back room." He nodded once, his demeanor shifting. "Act casual." They glided to the side of the crowd and slipped out the door. The music faded, replaced by the sound of their footsteps in a dim corridor. The walls narrowed, and the shadows deepened. The back rooms smelled of metal and antiseptic — cold and secretive.

My arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers threading through his hair as I arched beneath him. His mouth left mine and traveled along my cheek, down to my neck. His lips were warm, his breath even warmer. When he began pressing soft kisses at the base of my neck, adding gentle bites between, my back arched into him involuntarily. Each kiss sent a tremble through me. I was trembling and wanting more.

Waking up today wasn’t my intention. I had a long day ahead of me and of course, I’m always the one who has to work hard. I wasn’t an adopted child, I wasn’t a stepdaughter, but I had an annoying twin sister. Veronica Summers, my identical twin was the opposite of me. She was pampered more by my mum and dad and always caused trouble - of course, I’m always the one to be blamed.

Luckily, my words didn’t sound too slurred. He smiled and turned to the bartender… who amazingly enough came right over. Everyone who had been waiting for a drink looked over, jealous. The girls kept looking at the guy holding my hand. There was something about him that made him impossible not to look at. If I hadn’t grown up around werewolves I would probably be staring at him too. Werewolves have this amazing ability to attract all the attention around them when they wanted it, and the older, more experienced ones could blend in like they were invisible if they needed to too.

He crossed his arms and rested his elbow on the armchair, his palm supporting his tilted head as if he were assessing the children. “Tales,” Raja called out, indicating he was scared. “I know,” was all Tales could mutter as he didn’t look away from the man’s face. He stared at it as if engraving the man’s face into his memory. He clenched his teeth. The man smirked darkly and stood at the center of the mezzanine. “Welcome to Twilight Organization. I am happy and excited that some of you will be part of our family,” said the twisted man.

Twisted I always had fear of death ever since I became aware of the clock birthmark engraved on my left palm. I always hate celebrating my birthday because it always serves as a reminder that I'll die young. My parents told me that among our generations, I am very different because my two clock birthmarks have the same date. Because of too much curiosity, I tried researching and reading stories and blogs that tackle different painful tragedies.