Semua Bab Mi Alfa (The Possessive Alphas Series 1): Bab 91 - Bab 100

At the heart of the Light Saint Pack’s mansion, where marble and moonlight blended, Michael stood before the altar in his private sanctum. The dagger in his hand, Lucifer’s dagger given by Lucifer himself Incase something happens to him which was just locked inside his scroll, blackened by the Morningstar’s own blood. Hummed softly, alive with power both divine and damned. He traced its edge against his palm. Blood and grace mingled, silver and red, dripping onto the mirror-like sigil carved into the stone floor. “Gabriel,” he whispered. “Brother, answer me.” The mirror rippled, first softly, then violently. A voice echoed, fractured, distant. “Michael…? You shouldn’t—” Static roared. The reflection twisted; for a brief moment, Gabriel’s face appeared. Pale, bruised, eyes burning with chains of gold that wound around his throat. “Gabriel!” Michael reached out, the dagger flaring brighter. “What happened to Heaven?” Gabriel’s image flickered. Behind him, the faint silhouet

Tyrel cried out, his back arching off the bed, his fingers digging into Caius’s shoulders, leaving half-moon marks in his skin. The sensation of being filled, of being claimed, was overwhelming, a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. Caius began to move, his hips rolling in a rhythm that was both primal and divine, each thrust a testament to the depth of his love and the intensity of his need. He reached between their bodies, his fingers finding Tyrel's cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts, driving him higher, pushing him closer to the edge. Tyrel met each thrust with equal fervor, his body responding to Caius’s touch as if they were two halves of the same whole, destined to be together for all eternity. Their breaths mingled, their hearts beat as one, and their souls entwined in a bond that could never be broken. The room filled with the sounds of their passion, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet sounds of their bodies joining, the gasps and moans and whispered

Lucifer smiled at his declaration. He then spoke. "Well if it's so, then it is as you say, we stand. Anyway we will come with you in going back to Greed. We need to retrieve her for he is second to you. Maybe we'll spot Envy there." Suddenly the door burst open and Alexander with Raine came into view. So you’ll not let me join the fun, huh, Samael?” Alexander drawled, a sharp grin cutting across his face as he leaned against the doorframe. “Tsk. Just because you’re ‘Lucifer’ now doesn’t mean you can go ordering everyone around and taking off without me. Where’s the friendship, you asshole?” Lucifer arched a brow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Still so dramatic, Alex. I believe you said your still angry with me and always glares at me because of what I did to Allistair your son, but my MATE” he said clearly emphasizing the mate word “Tsk still an asshole flaunting your relationship with my son, I should have burned you that time of the banquet” Alexander shot back angril

The light of dawn had barely brushed the mountains when Caius felt it-the faint pull of his mate's bond, a soft golden thread wrapping around his heart. He stood before Lucifer and Allistair, the tension in the Casa del Fierro palpable. The marble floor still faintly burned with sigils from the earlier transmissions; the smell of magic and iron hung heavy within. “Amor Meus,” Lucifer said, his voice low yet keen, “Sloth has awakened. Fierro and Marion are in the midst of battle. The wraiths are spreading faster than before.” Allistair's face hardened, the faint glow of chaos stirring behind his eyes. "Then the corruption has spread wider than we thought." Caius spoke, his voice low, his composure ironclad despite the ache in his chest. “They’ll need us soon. But before that… I must return to Nightshade. Tyrel will sense the chaos if I don’t warn him myself." Lucifer nodded, his eyes softening for but a moment. “Then go. Take strength from your bond and we will need it before

In the mortal realm the sky suddenly darkened and inside a limousine as an agent was talking to his artist the person looked at the dark ominous sky and felt the tremor of divine and demonic power. The agent droned on about a world tour contract, unaware of the trembling heavens above. Celeste Valora, the golden-haired superstar with eyes like amethyst fire, wasn’t listening. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon, where the clouds churned with black and crimson light. A tremor of divine and demonic power rippled through her chest, and for the first time in years, the mask of fame slipped. A small, knowing smile curved her lips. “…Cancel my next appointment,” she murmured. The agent blinked. “What?” Celeste turned her head slightly, her tone soft yet commanding. “I said—cancel it.” Her reflection flickered in the tinted window. Gold shimmered, the feminine glamour dissolving like melted starlight until the glass revealed the truth beneath: a man, sharp-jawed, eyes gleaming molten gol