Young Nathaniel Hawthorne Novels & Stories

"Wait! Why are you whispering? Wendy—!" The bathroom door was shoved open. I didn't have time to hide the phone. Nathaniel stood there, bare-chested and lethal, his hair disheveled and his eyes dark with renewed, predatory hunger. "Hey, beautiful. I woke up and you were gone," he growled. He didn't wait for an answer. He stepped into the small space, his massive frame making the bathroom feel like a closet. He pulled me into his arms, burying his nose in the crook of my neck and inhaling deep.

"Theo, the Sanchez are not under your command. You cannot be their leader either." Naked contempt was displayed, yet Theo remained calm. "Nathan, there are some things that cannot be judged by appearances." Nathan's eagle eyes suddenly contracted. He boasted about his vast experience in reading people and having a sharp eye. However, when faced with a young teenager who was barely twenty, he inexplicably felt intimidated by the other person's mysterious and profound aura. How could there be such a person in this world, with a clean face but a completely unfathomable heart.

He spoke, his voice low and rough. Nathaniel was a silent human. He didn't like to talk. He was one of the people whose silence was comforting yet a bit scary. Even at the age of twenty-five, his aura was frightening to those who were strangers to him. The black ink on both of his muscular arms gave him a bad boyish look, specially with the nose piercing he had. Humming, I urged him to go on, as I wiped the blood off his chest. “Our boxer had almost killed their boss, Deus. They came to get revenge. They’ll probably look for them everywhere.” He sighed, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Hopefully, with the money Johann received for his sale to Fredrick, he will leave Anja alone now. Nathaniel gazed at the ocean where the sky met the sea and wondered if freedom was over there. If he ever found that freedom he would take his mother with him and they would never look back. That night the housekeeper brought fresh bread, butter and some cornmeal mush for him. He wolfed down the first savory food he ever had in his life, licking his fingers and lips hungrily while the housekeeper watched with pity. That evening when he was laying down enjoying the quiet of Fredrick’s mansion, two hefty men entered the room. Nate huddled in a corner and watched them walk toward the windows, shutt

I must have stood there forever because I'm suddenly starting to attract attention—standing and looking up at the ceiling with my chin in between my thumb and index finger. I'll just get him whatever I can. I turn around to see an advert of a restaurant on one of the large screens, and the title says: "Deliciously homemade that you didn't have to make," with, of course, a mouth-watering meal beside it. That's it. For Cam, it was easy. I got him a gay romance novel. Two, actually, and a pair of sunglasses with a matching cap and matching socks. And finally, the most difficult of them all. What do I get Nathaniel Hawthorne?

She refused to give them one. And then—he arrived. The whispers shifted like a gust of wind through the cemetery. Nathaniel Hayes. Her stepson. Twenty-three years old. Broad-shouldered. Military dropout. A reputation that carried bar fights and half-truths about violence. Tattoos winding down his arms, scars etched into his knuckles, blue eyes sharp as broken glass. Caroline’s heart stuttered when she saw him step through the rows of umbrellas, soaked to the bone, a cigarette clenched between his lips despite the priest’s disapproving glance.

But Nathaniel held his head high, sensing an inexplicable familiarity to this place. "Good day to you all, I am Nathaniel Hawthorne," Nathaniel stated, his voice confident. Gasps and sighs of shock rippled through the room as the packmates murmured amongst themselves. Suddenly, an elderly man stood up. "Pardon our manners; we rarely have visitors," August said, his eyes warm. "My name is August; I'm one of the elders who run this pack." Nathaniel nodded, his legs aching. He took a seat amongst them, causing Emilia's eyes to widen in surprise. She remained standing.

His eyes turned a deep shade of yellow, his wolf howling and growling before he attacked the elders, killing them mercilessly, and without remorse. He managed to kill nine or ten elders before his body hit the ground, a gun was shot on the back of his head. Nathan froze at the sound of the bullet being fired before he nodded at the men to pull out their own weaponry. Carter handed Nathan his own gun, and taking a step back, I put a hand on Jade’s shoulder, not wanting her to get caught in the ambush.

"Trying counts f⁠or mo​re than people give it credit for, Emmy. I'd know." The‍ bel​l o‌ver the fron‍t door chime​d, and I t‍urned, hal‌f expecting‍ Chloe‌, and foun⁠d Nathaniel‍ instead, stan​ding⁠ just inside the​ doorway in a coat that looke​d entirely to‌o expens​i‌ve for a Brooklyn​ ba⁠ker⁠y,‌ looking more uncertai‍n than I had ever seen him look in a boardro⁠om, a courtho‌use, or anywher⁠e else since⁠ I'd know‌n him.

ADOPTED HEIR **Nathaniel** Writer's P O V 2.00pm. **Portland.** Nathaniel sat behind his big vice president desk working on some files, he was trying to finish his work fast and leave the office when his secretary rushed into his office with an iPad. "Sir, you need to see this." Daniel said. "I'm not interested, Dan. I told you I wanna go home early." Nathaniel groaned at him. "No sir, I think you really need to watch this interview." Daniel insisted.