Vortex Unscramble Romane & Geschichten

Vaelorra walked to the room down the basement and I trailed silently behind her. She walked to the far shelf where old tomes and sealed scrolls rested, her fingers trailing along their spines as though they were old friends while I stood by the huge desk, supporting my tired weight with my palms on it. “An Unspun descendant,” she said at last, “is one from the tribe of those whose fates were never woven or accessed by the First Weavers.” I stared at her, my disbelief sharp and unhidden.

The evening was chilly and silent, the sun hung on the horizon, slowly setting and the breeze that blew in was cold, causing goosebumps to form on the skin but Omar didn't bother to get up to shut the windows. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling feeling torn and exhausted and alone and all round broken. These past few days had stretched him emotionally so much so that he felt used. He felt like he couldn't do anything right and to think that all these drama happened in only a week, if a medium had told him that his life would be spun recklessly this way in such short time, he wouldn't have believed.

The smell of alcohol, sweat, perfume and the heat radiating from the super active crowd hit the air making it hard to breath and concentrate. "Two shots of tequila please" she said to the bartender. It was time to loosen up a little bit. Why worry about a man who didn't give a rat’s ass about her? She send the two shots down her throat successively then hit the dance floor to showcase her dancing skills. Fate was bringing two souls together that particular Friday night at club Scorpion. In the same club, there was Frank with his friends at the VIP section enjoying drinks their eyes roving over the dancing crowd beneath them. He was a very outgoing person just not on that particular day.

Sifting through the pages revealed that it was a journal filled with excerpts and prose, possibly love letters of intimacy exchanged between two people. "Without which, not." Nancy spoke. Across from me sat her and Nicolas, Alex standing at a chalkboard as he drew out different plans for the remodel. Retreating my gaze from the book and meeting Cordelia's, I raised an eyebrow at her statement. "She's talking about the book you're reading," Nicolas picked up on her comment, filling in the gaps. "Sine Qua Non is Latin for without which, not.” "It's another way of saying without something, something else is impossible," Alex explained, his back still facing us.

Spiralling. That is all I seem to be able to do. I come undone like the stitches I have just sewn, the threadbare sanity pushing me to do this, something I would never have done on my own accord. I stand there, the loose fabric already falling to the floor, because he is here, and I shouldn't open the door. I can't. He stares at me, eyes darker than the night, darker than they say his soul is supposed to be. A smooth set jaw, a stony expression, and a wristwatch that could buy my whole shop.

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.

There’s no way the moon goddess would pair two people from enemy packs, knowing what danger this could brew! “ What are you talking a-about?” Aidan said, stuttering. I began to get worried a little more. Aidan stutters when he gets angry and in his current state of mind, his anger can be terrible. The last thing I need is for him to lose control at our enemy pack entrance. “ I’m saying, one of Hector’s daughters is my son’s mate, Ironic isn’t it?” the man laughed and I gulped realizing that this wasn’t some mere pack gatekeeper. He was Vortex, the man whom this pack was named after, the man who betrayed Hector.

Its screen was dark. Trix rubbed at her face, occasionally slapping herself in an attempt to wake up her brain. She was blinking furiously and her mind was processing everything slowly. She was hungover. She grabbed a water bottle sitting on her bed and drank the entire thing. Once she finished her head descended into a swirling mess. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the feeling to go away. Her stomach churned and she felt like throwing up but the vomit never came. "I am never doing drugs again," she promised, holding her now aching head.