Michael Douglas Novelas e Histórias

I greeted with a wide smile, immediately throwing my body back onto my bed. "Hello, darling," I heard the thick British accent from my godfather say to me through the phone and a shiver ran through my entire body, "how's my little star doing?" he asked me and I bit the corners of my lips. I felt so shy as though I was beneath his intense gaze, "I'm doing ok, how about you?" I asked him. My godfather was Octavious Bradford, and he's probably the most good looking gentleman I've ever set my eyes on. It doesn't help that I have a bit of a crush on him and he continuously spoils me way more than he spoils my older sister.

Broderick questioned. Amy walked over to Lord Douglas who was in the middle of death and life and asked him," where is Michael?" "He would rather die than reveal where Michael is, I'm sure he would know where Michael is," Broderick said, he had already thought that asking Lord Douglas about where Michael is won't yield any result. "I swear....I swear with my life that I don't know where he is," Lord Douglas said, "please beg him not to hurt me, please...I promise to pay you back in the future."

I knew that body and those hazel eyes from anywhere. I tried to walk to her but the senator appeared and grabbed my arm. “Markos, I’m glad you came,” he said as he pulled me into an unwanted hug. I had to go to hios party to show him he and I were still partners. To rule the black world of New York, you need law enforcement and a few politicians. The senator was among those on my payroll and I couldn’t fuck it up because he would screw everything about me. There was a reason they always wound up dead after they retired. They always got big heads and ewuallty big mouths.

You're fucking dead, man. Michael looked away from Killian and walked towards the exit. He didn't turn around but everyone steered out of his way until he went out of the casino and the restaurant. Once he was outside, Michael leaned against the trunk of his car, took out the last cigarette from his box and lit it. It was his first cigarette in days, but it didn't matter anyway. **** "You're absolutely, fucking dead, man!" Jesse shouted as he went out of the casino, clearly trying not to break into a run.

He plays the footage from the camera flash he got from the lab. We carefully watch everything in the video. Alpha Tate’s wolf wasn’t comfortable seeing it again, he’s growling and radiating anger energy from his body, but we had to watch it. It’s the only way to know who these scientists are. “There.” He points at the screen. Oliver pauses the video, taking it back a little and stops at the face of one of the doctors. “Isn’t that Justin’s father?” Oliver asks, staring at the screen intensely. He does look exactly like Justin though.

It’s so warm and rich, and I know for memory it’s Alden. “Well Alpha,” someone else else replies. I'm assuming it’s a doctor. “I would assume she will wake soon. It seems we have a miracle on our hands.”

However, I still had to be sure, so I asked, "You are certain? I hate being lied to." "Ironic indeed. You lie for a living." He replied. "A job I enjoy doing, one you introduced me to. Besides, you are changing the subject." "I'm fine. Enough of your nonsense. Now go back and stand with the rest. I can't keep turning to look at you while I speak." He really did look fine, no man in his early eighties could look this healthy if he was dying, so I had to believe him. Douglas was the most truthful man I knew, one who never lied unless it was for professional reasons. Without another word, I walked to my spot, completely ignoring Miguel’s stare.

I got into the woods, so many thoughts going through my head. The voice in my head stronger now that I'm ackowledging who and what, my wolf Mia, she's telling me to calm down but I can’t. Not until I ran into something big. Not something, someone. He was handsome, brown short hair the kind of style that says I didn’t try but I definitely did with hair gel and a blow dryer. I chuckled to myself. He has electric blue eyes, he’s really tall-- I’d say around 6’4”. I wasn't totally in tune with my senses but something sure smelled amazing, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

His frame was massive, broader even than most of his warriors, his muscles honed through years of brutal combat. But it was his eyes that commanded the room. Ice-grey and piercing, like twin blades. They missed nothing. Trusted no one. When Valerian spoke, men listened. When he moved, the world seemed to shift to accommodate him. As he sat now, one boot lazily hooked over the other knee, a messenger approached the throne. The man bowed deeply, holding out a small black bird—the message still tied to its leg. Valerian leaned forward with a slow, almost lazy grace, plucking the tiny parchment free.