A House Of The Night Novel 소설 & 이야기

Rosalee's Point of View The house is unusually quiet today, a calm that’s almost deceiving. I'm curled up on one of the plush couches in Jensen’s living room, my knees drawn to my chest, flipping through one of his books on werewolf history. The book is old, the leather worn and pages slightly yellowed, but the content is fascinating, stories of the first Lycans, ancient alliances, blood feuds, and sacred rituals long forgotten by most modern packs.

Maybe it all came from the lingering frustration about every little thing since my little family reunion at school. I tried not to think about it. Or anything else in particular but as you know it’s quite hard to keep your mind blank, so yeah, not much luck. I switched on the lamp beside my bed taking out my Creatures of the Moon book, I was reading something about Wendigos the last time if I could recall well. Vicious creatures, I tell you. These were the true creatures of the night. More deadly than vampires in my opinion. I sighed through the pages buying out time, as the minutes whisked away.

Now I knew he'd been bleeding me dry for Riley Anderson, his childhood sweetheart. "I want to refinance the house, too," he added. I stopped what I was doing, my hands frozen in the sink, and turned to stare straight at him. "You really want your four three-year-old sons to end up homeless?" This house wasn't much, just a small three-bedroom, but it was ours—the one we'd fought for, saved for, and sacrificed for. The mortgage wasn't even close to being paid off. His name was on the deed because when we first bought it, I had been out of town on business. He'd told me it would be easier that way, with him making the payments.

Written by Evelyn Mba ©®©® @Paranormal @Romance WOLVES The house was dark and full of danger signs. The trees by the sides were tall and huge, fencing the house out of human sight. The house was grey and black in colour, cobwebs hung on each side. Making the house look like an ancient witch house, designed only for the Divines. Owls hooting were heard from afar, bats flapping their wings. Huns could be heard as if a choir was nearby but then..there was none.

We all walked inside and entered the living room together, it was extremely large, clean, my eyes shifted to the same white pale walls that I’ve always come to known since I been a child growing up in this house – it Has never changed over the years and no matter how many times I’ve been in this house – it was the same damn reaction, Same thought that screamed in the back of my mind - welcome to your new prison. – no doubt Gary must have wanted his members on pack duties to make them feel at home – A safe place they can call their own. Even when they faced the notion they wouldn’t survive outside their old pack – but For the ones who clung onto some kind hope no matter how small it was – it

- he then took Maria's hand and they left the room together. Nadir finally returned to the Underworld, but she wandered about there like a ghost, wanting nothing. Nor was she going to come to the surface even to feed herself. It all made no sense to her, and she might as well die now, even wanted it. Nadir knew by the time Lilith realized there was something wrong with one of her succubus, it would be too late. At this point, Nadir was glad her "mother" was so poor at taking care of her own creations. But on the other hand, why would she bother with it when could always make more new succubus and incubus? About four weeks after Nadir's return to the Underworld, Nathaniel came to the cave whe

I’d never hung around to inspect the dead bodies of the vampires we’d killed before, though, so reading up on what to look for was a necessity. Torre’s house was huge. It was an imposing stone structure, and it made me think back to the Gothic architecture that had inspired so many scary stories in the Victorian era. The front driveway was a labyrinth of neatly sheared bushes and pristine white gravel, and, without warning, the thought of hot blood hissing and spitting and soaking into the ground shot into the forefront of my mind. I shook myself, and the gravel turned back from red to white.

]* Bedtime. Not Alex’s room. Not ‘through.’ Our room. Big bed. Knight bed. Day 1 bed. Twins. Middle. Already asleep. Sand in hair. _HOME_ washed off. Still there. Alex. End of bed. Book. _Not_ shark. _Not_ court. _Not_ 11 seconds. _The House That Was Just Home._ Susan wrote it. Last night. 4 AM. “Therapy,” she said. Illustrated it. Stick figures. Us. Bear. No bad men.

Black venom dripped thickly from its jaws, hissing where it splashed into the flooded mud, sending up clouds of acrid steam. Around its massive form, smaller horrors crawled through the rising water—mutated wolves with too many eyes, pale-skinned swamp leeches the size of dogs, twisted deer skulls sprouting spider legs. The air itself seemed heavier, fouled by rot and sulfur. Inside the house, silence reigned. Junie clutched Jade to her chest. The baby slept peacefully, oblivious to the gods and monsters clashing outside. Simone and Willa hovered close, their faces pale and drawn. Jonah stood near the barricaded door, fists clenched tight, his jaw taut.

But curiosity gets the better of me, and I step inside, closing the door softly behind me. The room is smaller than I expected, but every inch is filled with books. Floor-to-ceiling shelves line three walls, packed with volumes that range from leather-bound antiques to modern paperbacks. A massive oak desk dominates the center of the space, its surface covered with neat stacks of papers and open notebooks. This is where he comes when he disappears for hours each day. This is his sanctuary. I run my fingers along the spines of the nearest books, reading titles that make no sense to me. "Lycanthropic Hierarchies of the Northern Territories." "Blood Magic and Ancient Covenants." "The Politics o