A Kingdom Of Venom And Vows Novels & Stories

“But it still shakes me.” “That means you’re human.” He kissed the top of my head. “And still healing.” Later that night, I sat at my desk and opened a blank page. I began typing the first words of what would become my book. Title: The Anatomy of Betrayal By Dr. Elena Hart “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s a story about what happens when the lies dissolve, and all that remains is the truth—raw, unspeakable, and liberating.”

Chapter 97 – The Book She Wrote The house was quiet again, but this time it was the kind of quiet that hummed with purpose. The kind of quiet that filled the room with possibilities rather than emptiness. I sat at my desk, pen in hand, notebook open, staring at the blank page for a long time before writing the first words. “Shattered Vows,” I whispered to myself. The title alone made my chest tighten, a reminder of everything I had lived through—the love, the lies, the heartbreak, the forgiveness, and the slow, painstaking rebuilding of myself.

guessed Alexa silently. "Please come in, my King." A young man invited the king to get into the car. Alano Dante. The man who occupied the position of king in the Palace of King Wolves. Kingdom of Italy where all the inhabitants are lycans. Instead of getting into the car, King Alano just kept quiet and closed his eyes. His sense of smell is so sensitive. There was a very strange scent smelling all around it. His eyes immediately opened and looked outside the palace, where he was sure the smell was coming from.

she told Finlay, wondering if he would help her with her brother who infected him with his venom in the first place. Finlay clenched his jaw once more because this was time-consuming. They needed to act fast so he could be with his wife. He carried Droco in a bridal style and helped put the boy on the snake's body. Daeneria sat behind her brother and held his waist before asking Finlay to join them. Finlay let out an exasperated breath before climbing the snake who immediately sped through the bushes and stopped at the Ophidian Kingdom within a minute. The kingdom was grand and splendid, built with diamonds, and had statues of snakes. Exceptional to an extent Finlay knew if his men would gra

Eirwen felt a chill crawl up her spine when Vow placed the book beside it and slowly opened to a page near the center. In delicate handwriting—gold ink, smudged with ash—it read: “Lie to the Crown. Lose the tongue.” Eirwen didn’t laugh. But she did smile. Just a little. “This some kind of mafia poem?” she asked. Triarch Vow didn’t move. Domenik did. He stepped toward her, voice softer than it should’ve been. “This is not metaphor. It’s doctrine.” “You want me afraid?” “No,” he said. “I want you honest.”

She has no idea how everything turned out to be such a huge mess. What was worse, a part of her didn’t want to believe he was truly that evil. But all the signs were there. She felt like she was blind and now could see all the warning signs now. She probably saw them back then already and ignored it. She shouldn’t have. She wasn’t going to be swallowed whole by him once again. She knew to fight him, she was going to need Rosalie’s help. Volkan knew she was a skilled hacker and that she knew her way around a dagger. It was her preferred weapon of choice.

Handsome with a pointed nose,a sea blue eye ball and a dark hair which was styled backward,his looks were enough to make any woman melt before him but his cold looks and condition would make one have a second thought about him. He has everything a woman would want but he is in a wheelchair,a condition he wasn't born with but the condition life threw him in. He met with an unfortunate fate which took the life of his parents and made him paralyzed on a wheelchair when he was just ten. From a lively and carefree boy,he became cold and insecure because he felt like a liability to others but when he discovered who was behind the death of his parents,he became ruthless and that gave him the streng

"By the blood that flows from the womb of betrayal, By the ashes of the women we buried unseen, I vow to the Order of the Crimson Shadow, To keep my heart from the touch of a woman. To drink no affection, nor taste the wine of desire. To build no home, plant no seed, For love is weakness, and weakness, death. As my father vowed, so I vow…” A slash across my palm. Blood dripped onto the altar. Then fire erupted from the cracks in the ground, and the robes began to burn. The torches screamed. The altar bled. I woke up choking, my chest soaked in sweat, my breath ragged. The room was spinning. The sheets of the bed where I laid were tangled, soaked. My skin felt like it was crawling. Like the v