Ever since Cyrill was turned into werewolf, there is not a single minute that his Pasiphae abilities will not yearn to be unleashed.
But now…now is the perfect time to completely release his mighty powers. There is no turning back.
No. Not this time. He will not be cowered by these three Death Summoners’ mere presence. His indomitable godly presence will not be turned down by these shitty black-cloaked people.
He is Cyrill Clarke. The beta of the Irish Pack and a Pasiphae werewolf.
And he will not step back.
In a heartbe
This was probably the worst day of his twenty-three years of existence.Why is that when the Samhain is nearing, more bloody occurrences are unexpectedly happening? Was this a coincidence?No. He once heard from a World War II veteran way back in England that nothing in this world is a coincidence. Everything happens for a reason.And who the hell is the Blood Mistress? Is she a woman? Or a man hiding beneath the cloak of a woman? Either way, this person is wholly lunatic and psychotic.‘I will mercilessly skin that bitch alive if ever I found out who she i
“Uhm…Ah—I ju-just have a-a nice convers—”“Shhh. I know what you and Vesta did, Cy. No need to hide about that…”Cyrill swore that he saw something from Rozelyn’s eyes. It was tears and…pain.“I just want help from you,” she candidly muttered.“From me?”Rozelyn nodded. Her face was still unreadable in Cyrill’s werewolf senses.A flash of lightning beamed at Rozelyn’s face, making him startled.“Are you the one—”
Maebh leaned by the frosty glass window as she watches the Mullins’ jovial daughter play in the manor’s little courtyard.“Maebh!”The governess shrieked at her who’s now by the maid quarter’s threshold.“Get us some food, you silly little girl! Little Ms. Ariadne Mullin needs her afternoon tea and sweets already.”“But it’s still two in the afternoon. Her afternoon tea is four.”The governess inched closer to her, index finger pointing callously to little Maebh who’s only wearing nothing but tattered sage dress. She was not even given a proper maid uniform as it will give a notion of a child labor. So, her employers—the Mullins—gave her Ariad
“So, are you coming to my soiree or do you want me to cut off your manhood if you don’t attend?” Ludwig was flabbergasted. Not because of the voluptuous woman’s threat that she’ll cut off his velvet steel but because of the fact that she will be hosting a grandiose private party. It had been years since Maebh hosted a soiree in the Mullins Estate. “The soiree will be this coming Friday. Don’t forget to wear a nice, clean, outstanding tuxedo!” Maebh said then she curtsied towards the door after wearing the last piece of her clothes—her underwear.
Ariadne Mullin was still haunted by the tragic and grotesque death of her governess—of her nanny. She never thought that a mere person could do such a brutal and violent thing. The ocherous light of the chandelier above was the only thing illuminating her pathway. The Mullin’s residence has its Victorian ambience despite her family being of Irish descent. It was an ordinary thing for her to spend the remaining hours of the night in their library, reading things pertaining to crime and possible things that may drive a killer to do such unlawful things to a person. She was walking in this dim-lighted hallway, with only herself and her shadow accompanying her in the dead of night.&nb
His blade is so long and…sharp. The width and height of his groin is probably the biggest one her crevice has ever tasted. Rozelyn had never seen a velvet steel as huge as this. It’s twice bigger than that of Eoghan, to be frank. He’s definitely not lying that he was good. Not just good, he was utterly the best man in drilling a woman. ‘Perhaps that’s why this man is so sexy because he regularly exercises in bed…’ Rozelyn thought. Hans moaned from behind. It was music in her ears. Well, she probably forgot that she was being pounded by an Empath werewolf—by an entity that can manipulate emotions. “I wonder how many women you can
The smell of eggs and bacon greeted her as she went down the stairs. All of them—the pack and the coven—are present in the lavish white rectangular table. "Good thing that you've woken up on your own, Nadeshiko," Hemera stated as she gestured for her to sit down next to Cyrill. Vesta, who was sitting on her right, grinned at her jovially and put some benedict eggs and well-fried bacon on her oval plate. 'Good timing for them to prepare a sumptuous simple breakfast. I'm craving a traditional English breakfast today, to be honest.' Rozelyn mused as she watched Vesta keep on putting pancakes and maple syrup on her plate. "Eat well, Miss Thaumaturge. You're gonna have a long day ahead," Vesta then winked at her as i
This was the first time Rozelyn saw the entirety of Cyrill’s velvet-wrapped steel. His body was shimmering with sweat, making Rozelyn wholly quiver and waver on the inside. Electricity suddenly ran throughout her body; very much unusual for her to feel this kind of yearning towards her stepmom’s protégée. He brushed his serpent on her stomach. The heat of his groin was pretty much enough for Rozelyn’s crevice to produce a milky liquid. She was panicking—as well as perplexed. Perplexed on why Cyrill can easily show his carnal interests towards her. She was confused because throughout their years of being under one roof, she had never seen him wild and ferocious like this very moment. He pulled down the garment that was covering the skin of her milky abyss. Roz