Killian Jones Novelas e Histórias

Either way, he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the rest of us. “Everyone, meet Lucas Jones. Lucas, meet-“ Kieran gasps, moving away from me to stand up, a massive smile on his face. The loss of contact makes me frown. Lucas’ eyes widen almost comically, his plucked eyebrows jumping high on his forehead. “Kieran?”

Ash told them all. "You play the drums too!" Killian sounded impressed. "I've always found a girl that can play the drums sexy." He smiled at me. Toni's chest rumbled as he suppressed a growl. "Woah easy there killer." Josh joked."I didn't invite her here for you to flirt with." "I didn't mean…" Killian started. "Just nevermind." He sulked back in his chair. He had a couple lip piercings and I could seem him fiddling with them in his mouth.

Whatever I had to do, had to be done, and it was done already. Killian Donovan.

It wasn’t directed at Lucy either, so why did he have to kill her? I met his gaze with all the rage and hatred I felt towards him at the moment. I hated him so much, his presence repulsed me. He arched his eyebrow at my expression, suprised that a lowly slave like me would dare look him in the eye but I didn’t care. Earlier, I had hoped he wouldn’t recognize me but right now, I didn’t care anymore. “Don’t tell me you killed her just to get back at me for losing the hunting game.” Damien called out, breaking the silence and oblivious to the tension between Kieran and I.

'Killian O'Hara, I am coming to get my girl back, and when I do, I am going to bring down that fucking MC club you love so much. The next few days are spent working out a plan while all my resources are brought together at my parents' house. I turn as my father comes into the room; he is in a dark grey bespoke three-piece suit, with his medals proudly displayed and the beret placed firmly on his thick dark hair. My father, Leonard Jameson, had built his company up from a small office in Fort Worth to the huge multi-billionaire conglomerate it was now. Before he took over from his father, he had served in the American Air Force and risen to a three-star Major General before he retired from th

I was looking for the Great Mother. Killian was adjusting in his own way. The loss of his wolf had left him with a quiet, observant stillness that was often mistaken for stoicism. He worked as a private security consultant, a role that allowed him to use his tactical mind without needing the brute force of a shifter. He had traded the throne for a minivan and a toolkit, but the way he watched the children in the backyard told me he was still a King guarding his most precious territory. "She’s doing it again, Elara," Killian said one Tuesday evening. He was standing by the sliding glass door, a dish towel draped over his shoulder.

He watched me approach with the lazy confidence of a predator that had never lost a fight. "Aurelia," Zane said, his tone formal. "Meet Killian. He's a Beta-level mercenary who makes his living hunting rogue wolves." He paused. "I've hired him to test your skills." My stomach dropped. "You want me to fight him?" "I want you to survive him." Zane's expression was grave. "Killian will come at you with full force. No holding back, no pulling punches." He gestured to the circle. "If you can last five minutes. land three solid hits, you pass. If you can't..."

Still carrying the shopping bag filled with fabric samples and business cards, I slipped off my outdoor shoes and started toward the grand staircase, looking forward to a hot shower to soothe my aching muscles. Suddenly, the living room lights flooded the space, cutting through the darkness. I startled, my breath catching in my throat as I turned sharply toward the source of the light. Killian was sitting alone on one of the large leather sofas. He was still wearing his Toronto Wolves training jacket, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped together. He looked exhausted, his jaw rigid, as though he had been sitting there waiting in the dark for hours. I had not expected him to