Ash Vs Volkner Novels & Stories

That was the deep uncanny mine of souls. Like veins of silver ore, they silently Moved through its massive darkness. Blood welled up among the roots, on its way to the world of men, and in the dark it looked as hard as stone. Nothing else was red. Rainer Maria Rilke Barty Winston seethed as Piper Linwood walked away from him. Little American bitch thinks she's something special. Too good to talk to methat much is obvious. But not for long. He'd made a deal with the devil tonight, and soon he'd be rich enough to take whatever he wanted, including her.

Asher stepped forward from the crowd. He was taller than me, broader in the shoulders, and carried himself like a warrior born of bloodshed. His black and red uniform clung to him like armor, and his long silver-blonde hair was braided back into a warrior’s knot. His eyes were a striking violet—cold and calculating. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he intended to break. “So you’re the Veilborn,” he said with an amused sneer. “I expected more.” I didn’t reply.

his face was probably saying what the f*ck? “It’s no problem. I could let a lady do all of this on her own” I couldn’t help but notice Asher’s brow burrow at his comment. Oh no “I appreciate it” I chuckled “Could you please open the booth, Mr. Stone?” “Let me” Mike collected the rest of the backdrops from me just as Asher tried to take them. I almost laughed. If looks could burn, Asher would have set the world on fire, and in a weird maybe narcissistic way I like that he was mad. He watched as Mike smiled at me while he placed the backdrops in the booth. he turned to me and asked.

They chose neutral ground that wasn’t neutral at all: a private salon on the second floor of an old club off the square, all dark wood, deep carpets, and oil paintings of dead men who had owned everything within sight. It smelled of leather, smoke, and money that had never seen sunlight. Luca arrived a shade late, because Ashfords never appeared eager to answer anyone’s summons, and because it irritated Laurent senior. His father was already there. Edmund Ashford sat with the unbothered elegance of a man whose family’s factories had once armed half a continent. Perfect navy suit, cufflinks with a subtle crest, hand resting on a cane he didn’t strictly need. His posture said, “We came. That w

“I don’t do feelings! I do revenge, I do knives, I do surviving, feelings are for people who have time to cry when the world burns them, and I’m too busy lighting matches to sit around holding hands and singing about love like some lovesick fool.” Asher caught the pillow, grin spreading wide again even as he rubbed his cheek where it had hit, eyes sparkling with that chaotic delight he never quite turned off, like my rage was his favorite kind of entertainment. “Nun Vivienne,” he said, laughing low and rough, “now that’s a sight I’d pay to see, black habit, dagger tucked in the sleeve, cursing out the priest during confession. You’d burn the whole convent down before lunch.” Kane finally rel

he asks, his voice husky. I nod, not trusting myself to speak. As I walk back to my own room, I feel like I'm leaving a part of myself behind. The convention hall buzzes with activity, a stark contrast to the intimate bubble we've been living in. I spot Jack across the room, deep in conversation with a supplier. Our eyes meet, and a secret smile passes between us. Throughout the day, we maintain our professional facades, but every accidental brush of hands, every shared glance, sends shivers down my spine. The thrill of our hidden connection only intensifies the desire coursing through me.

But the geometry of the image was damning. Coach Vance was leaning into Anastasia Volkov’s space, his massive frame bent toward hers And Asya? Her chin was tilted up, her face entirely too close to his, her lips parted in a way that didn't look a damn thing like a player talking strategy. "I know what you're doing, you little parasite," I whispered to the empty room, my thumb aggressively tracing the outline of her blonde hair on the glass.

I’d have to find a way to prevent that, but right now, I had something else I needed to do. Enzo picked up on the third ring, a gaggle of feminine giggling sounding in the background of the call. “Lorenzo, you got a minute?” I grunted. “For you? Always, man. Tell me, what does the future Alpha Hael Ashford want?” He replied cheerfully, a slight slur to his voice. Wonderful, he was drunk. At least it would make him more compliant. Lorenzo was blood thirsty on the best of days but put a few drinks in him and he turned into a regular old sociopath.