Brazen Novelas e Histórias

Laughter and applause erupted from the audience. Brenna and Helena sat front row center, both wearing rival colors. Brenna had on a pale pink shawl and a pin reading Team Girl, and Helena had on a power suit in bold sapphire and a fascinator hat of the same color with "Boy Boss" spelled out in rhinestones. "This is how nations get divided," Brenna complained. "Only if we can win," Helena snapped. "And we will."

She raised her hand and gestured to the edge of the circle. From the crowd, a figure emerged. He was massive, a wall of muscle and scar tissue, taller than Kael by a head and twice as broad. His hair was shorn close to his scalp, his arms lined with jagged marks like someone had carved victories into his skin. His eyes… cold, flat gray, locked onto Aria with the promise of violence. “Brask,” Maela announced, her voice triumphant. “Champion of our cause.” The rogues murmured, some gasping, some nodding grimly. Brask had a reputation, Aria could see it in the way their shoulders hunched, in the way a few mothers pulled children back from the front row.

He slammed the phone shut, fury twisting his face. “Whoever brings her down gets five million!” The remaining men roared with excitement, blades gleaming. Briella tore a strip from her shirt and wrapped her bleeding leg. Blood smeared her hands—crimson against ivory. The contrast was stunning. But in her eyes? There was no fear. Only fire. ***

Buttons flew in every direction as they tore away from the fabric. Once again, she surprised me by making a basic, white bra the sexiest piece of clothing I’d ever seen. I grabbed her tits, soft and supple in my hands, making my hips press into her in a slow, rocking motion. Her nipples were hard, and I moved the fabric away, revealing them and their blush color. A shocked gasp came from her as I pinched and twisted them. “You have beautiful breasts. Fucking perfect, perky tits.”

The IV drip clicking for a while, until Grinch lets out an exhalation. “I was never a shield, but if being a human bulletproof is what it takes to keep Brain Box alive. Then I'm up for it” Breanna's face tightens, her brow arching—equal parts impressed and challenged. She came in thinking he was bleeding—vulnerable. But there’s nothing fragile about the man on the bed. She steps back slowly, saying nothing in response. Because there’s nothing left to say that won’t bounce off that wall of granite resolve. Crouching right by the posterior of his bed, she picked her blazer, seeing herself out.

He lifted up his spear, and his men understood his gesture as they halted in a moment of disorderliness. The man’s chest was covered with a gleaming bronze breastplate emblazoned with regal drawings. He wore a red garment that swayed sideways when the winds blew against it. He seemed, by all standards, the leading figure. He dismounted from his horse and collected a battle helmet from a soldier who handed it to him. He wore the helmet, transforming his handsome face to an ugly mask. He snapped his fingers, and a black soldier gave him a scabbard. He pulled the glittering sword out of its scabbard. The gaze of the men around fell on the sword as it absorbed the sun’s reflected light, dazzling

She replied with a smile. "That's huge for you, congrats." "I bought a gift for you to show you my appreciation." She said bringing out a medium-sized box from her bag. "I...wanted to get something expensive for you, so I got you this." Philip accepted it with a smile and opened it, then he brought out a pen, which had his surname CRUZ engrafted in the body of the pen. "I figured out that you love writing because of the letters you send whenever you want to inform anyone." The both of them laughed and Philip took another look at the pen. It was beautifully blue, with some engrafted designs on it.

I smirk She swats my arm. "Just don't trip on your beauty." My hair has been woven into intricate braids, small silver chains threaded throughout. When I turn, they catch the torchlight like falling stars. Around my neck rests the crescent-moon pendant my grandmother once wore. I run my fingers over it absently, my heart heavy. She should have been here for this. Bran, of course, looks regal without even trying. His tunic is dark charcoal, the silver accents subtle but powerful, stitched into the collar and sleeves. Over it, he wears a fitted black leather vest, a nod to his warrior's roots. He moves like the embodiment of night and storm, like a force of nature wrapped in elegance.

Paint the rusted metal walls with Eagle Brother grey matter. But Brielle. Brielle was out there, watching, waiting for my signal. A signal I hadn’t given. A signal I couldn’t give if I started a bloodbath right now. Her safety was the only chain holding back the rabid beast that lived beneath my skin, the one that saw solutions painted only in crimson.

“My name is Brianna, Brianna Violet, the future Luna of Violet pack.” She displayed her long straight claws and licked her lips while preying to Noah and Toby. She wore a skin-tight black leather jacket with a high-cut mini skirt, black sheer stocking, and black leather boots. Her curly brunette hair was cut short. “What do you want?” Noah asked again, while his left hand signaling Toby to stand behind him. Brianna smiled wickedly, “Simple, I just want you dead.” “But I won’t just give my life away without a fight,” Noah replied.