Wolverine Smoke Novels & Stories

"Yes, apologize. I'm not the reason you're so tall, you don't even see the people below you, your narcissistic Highness!" I blurted angrily, with a hint of sarcasm. My confidence soon waned drastically and the regret bounced in. My first day in Brownston and here I was, already making trouble. "Mundanes and being problematic," he muttered, turning to leave immediately. That did it. I could have sworn a puff of smoke its way out of my ears accompanied by the overwhelming surge of anger that rose from the depth of my stomach. I hurled at him my saddle bag with all the energy my slim hands could gather and it landed right across his pale face. ** Alexis—a Trueblood who had lived forever in a void of endless time bumps into Dawn, a college student who sought adventure. Was his tedious life about to get more intriguing? What were the hardships that came with the existence of a mundane in his life?

He is the most terrifying man in the Empire—Hadrian, the Lord Protector. Cold, ruthless, and dictatorial, he rules the chaotic world with an iron fist, crushing rebellions without mercy. To the world, he is a monster devoid of human emotion; a tyrant who bathes in blood. She is a rose growing in the mire—an ordinary, low-born girl struggling to survive in the slums. She possesses nothing but her pride and a fragile life. Their worlds should never have collided. But in a twist of fate amidst the smoke of revolution, the lofty Dictator set his eyes on the humble commoner. He didn't know how to love, so he used the only method he knew: Conquest. He clipped her wings, trapped her in his gilded cage, and forced her to bloom only for him. "You fear me," Hadrian whispered, his fingers tracing her trembling lips. "Good. Because in this lifetime, you will never escape me." In a game of power and submission, can a tyrant learn to kneel for love? And can a bird in a cage tame the beast?

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.

On the day the true heiress and I swapped places, my childhood sweetheart, bound to me by a promise made in youth, gripped my hand before our families and declared, "I chose you, not your title." Anna Pedersen, tears brimming in her eyes, enveloped me in a trembling embrace. "Joanne, we'll always be family. I'd never take what's rightfully yours." Everyone assumed I'd turned misfortune into fortune. Though I lost my status as the Pedersen heiress, I gained a steadfast lover and a selfless sister. But three years after fate corrected itself, photos of Calvin Thomas escorting Anna to a prenatal checkup flooded the internet. When I confronted him, he exhaled a plume of smoke and said coolly, "Anna is my true betrothed. This is just setting things right. Why are you so worked up?" He seized my wrist and dragged our engraved engagement ring across the back of my hand, leaving a bloody gash. "This scar will remind you of the twenty years of life you stole. Your life and I belong to their rightful owner."

A week after getting into a cold war with Alexander Griffin, his friends drag me to a private room. They drink and smoke inside, not caring that I have asthma. My breathing speeds up and it starts to get difficult for me. My hands tremble as I call Alexander and tell him I'm about to die. However, he's with his childhood sweetheart. He doesn't answer my calls. He finally answers when I'm about to pass out, but all he does is berate me. "You're old enough to know not to be so childish, Isabelle. Why would you think of joking around with your life? "Sasha's injured, and I'm tending to her wound—it's my duty as a doctor. Don't tell me you're jealous over that! For the last time, there's nothing between Sasha and me. It's up to you whether you believe it!" Later, I die in that private room. His friends throw my body into the sea to cover up their crimes. One day, Alexander finds my journal. That's when he loses his mind…

Outside the wrecked world of the Alphas, one could see the Neverseen, the light that spread about, form by the civilized world that far prime of the Alphas. The Neverseen have long been awake and far knowledgeable than the Alphas. They height above one can ever imagine. So tall that even the Alphas and its subject could comparable to nothing, not even dots. There, one could see the march of Neverseen, or what could be called as giant in the Alphas World. Amidst the march, there's this tiny planet that surround with smoke that distorted about in the outskirt of the way, and comparable only as the dots in the Neverseen's eyes. So nothing that even they were the threat if discover, they able to overcome the changes. Strangely, this dots of a planet connected, by the use of the white strand, to the tiny being that almost seem a dust that vibrated about. This tiny being as a whole that scattered around could fit at the hands of the giant, and can even form a city there and new system. Only if they were awake that they will realize everything. In this time and age, their eyes have never been once open since the beginning of time. They as if sleep for all eternity, or was curse to never awakened! But they have the blood of the Alphas, and even the curse that stop them to realize the Origin, they will to awake in no time!

***This book contains violence, cursing, sexual content, and talk of suicide, enjoy at your discretion.*** I was walking through an unknown foggy forest when I spotted a field of wildflowers. My feet had a mind of their own as they led me to wander through the flowers. I nonchalantly dragged my hands over the flowers. It was a beautiful and serene sight. I deeply inhaled the sweet scent of the flower and gave a little shudder of bliss. I closed my eyes and just absorbed the moment wanting to remember it. Suddenly the sounds of paws hitting the forest floor overwhelmed me. Then the forest was ignited with flames. Everything glowed vibrant oranges and reds as heavy smoke smothered me from above. I threw myself to the ground desperate for any trace of clean air. As I attempted to crawl out of the flowers a new sound harmonized with the thunder paws, screams and howls for help terrorized me. I clawed at the ground desperate to escape the menacing choir. Fire licked my skin and I screamed for help. Sobs escaped my lips as flaming branches fell on me from above. The smell of burning flesh was the only thing that consumed me as everything went dark.

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months. Said he was swamped at work. Always tired. After everything, I still believed him. Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood. "You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?" Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas." My hands curled into fists. Silent tears streamed down my face. He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?" I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched." It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

Because of a last-minute business trip, my husband missed the Thanksgiving family dinner. I spent the entire day helping out at my in-laws' place in the countryside with our five-year-old son, only to receive a complaint from the downstairs neighbor just before dinner. "Ari, could you please close your kitchen window when you're cooking? I can smell the hot sauce from all the way here. My husband has a lung condition—he can't handle it." My neighbor's words shocked me, and I immediately called my husband, who was allergic to chili peppers. "Honey, did someone break into the house? The neighbor said there was smoke coming from the kitchen." His breathing hitched for a second before he let out a casual laugh. "No break-in. My flight got canceled, so I was home alone cooking. When are you two coming back? I really miss you." I smiled and told him we'd stay a couple more days, but in the middle of the night, I packed up our son and drove straight home.