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Chapter 12
The sun’s blinding rays are the only thing that awoke Rozelyn.
She’s quite upset because neither Romaine nor Cyrill have woken her up in this English-style manor.
She grasped the hems of the bloody red curtains and swiftly split it open while still in her lavender silk nightgown.
Rozelyn peered outside as her chamber was facing the rear part of this wide and a hundred-hectare private state.
‘The coven and the pack are indeed super wealthy, considering the minimum price tag of this place is no less than a million euros.’
She murmured softly. So soft that perhaps even the robin by the oak tree in front of her window cannot even hear what she mumbled.
She was
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If only the waffles on her oval plate could whimper, it has long gone whining for her fork’s delicate touch.Rozelyn can no longer manage to eat properly.How could she when Cyrill kept on staring at her?Or is he peering at her pristine rounded breasts?Well, this was her plan anyway—to encaged Cyrill’s gaze within her figure only.But now, she seems uncomfortable and agonizing.‘For hell’s sake, what the hell is going on with me!’Rozelyn’s internal screaming was bouncing at the walls of her mind.Since the moment she opened her eyes this morning, her entire self was already surging with frenziness and venereal madness.Hemera has already told her at the lavish gazebo that this party is for camaraderie and reunion.Frankly, Rozelyn was somehow debating if Hemera’s context of reunion was the common definition, or was the wine-red-haired vampire referring to the carn
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Romaine was at the edge of his blade.Dorrien’s ten-inch flesh blade has been repetitively stabbing her on the inside.But it was not pain that was flooding her.It was pleasure—intense pleasure.This has been the primary reason why she always loves every year’s Housewarming Ceremony.Whether there is a new addition to be welcomed or not, the coven and the pack have strictly been observing the sacred ceremony for two reasons: for camaraderie and fo
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Rozelyn slept on their golden couch without actually closing her eyes.A maelstrom of rage and enigma has been whirling inside her.‘Is this some sort of insult from a long-time family rival or an unexpected coincidence?’She mused at that notion. Ludwig has long been ‘not on good terms’ with the Zadzisai family even before her father has departed in the afterlife.She’s gradually piecing the slivers of reason on why that god-damn sheriff would accuse her Cyrill for a murder and homicide.“They took my Cyrill!”She squealed while sobbing. Her tears repeatedly sliding down from her face.Francisco seems to pity her; the orange feline’s eyes are full of worry and comfort. The cat hoisted his right paw and caressed Rozelyn’s raven hair.She smiled at their family pet.
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The room was dark; only the clamouring of chains reverberated in walls of the abandoned warehouse.Hemera couldn’t believe it. Someone in Shamrock has the deadly Black Peruvian Rose.Avril punched the man tied in the chair once more. Blood gushed out from the man’s nose like water flowing down the river.The man, who’s drenched in his own blood and tears, begged soundly even when his mouth was tied shut with a calico.“Finish him,” Hemera commanded Vesta.In a heartbeat, the man’s brown skin turned utterly pale. Blood was now dripping from Vesta’s fangs. She savoured it jovially as if a kid drinking strawberry juice. She gave a handful of blood-filled glass to the grand vampire.Candice Churchill, who refused the share of the man’s remnants due to her just devouring a fawn an hour ago, glared at Hemera unyieldin
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Ludwig’s face was illuminated by the tangerine light of the fluorescent bulb above his head.His private chamber was wholly shut that perhaps even the tiny ants will have a hard time entering his hideous lair.He was growing impatient to the repetitive wailing of this woman.Ludwig took one taste of his cigarette, making the tendrils of smoke flood the crisp evening air, before he spoke.“Are you still gonna continue whining here like a child or are you going to do what I told you to do?”
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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
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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
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