A Night Without Armour Novelas e Histórias

"What do you want." He held up the metal bundles. "Nero's orders. Both of you wear these tonight. No arguments." He dropped his eyes to the gown Isolde was holding. "As beautiful as that would be — and it would be genuinely beautiful — tonight is not the night." He held out the armor. "Warriors only." We looked at the armor. Then at each other. It was metal. Heavy. The kind meant for wolves twice our size. Chest plates. Arm guards. Something that was either a helmet or a very aggressive hat.

His muscles flexed under his tight shirt and his jaw tightened. "Do you really believe that the only reason I keep you here is because of your parents? I am Damion Night I don't do anything for anyone unless it benefits me and my family. Think about that the next time you want to kill one of my guards and try and run away." With that he turned his back on me and stalked out of the basement.

I guess he had never thought that he had created perfect conditions for vampires to attack. We knew that the best warriors from the Southern Woods Pack had already been expecting us. They were fully aware that the Moon Hill Pack and the Royal Army had taken down the Great Five, and they had no allies left to lend their power to them. The Southern Woods Pack was doomed to fight alone. It was long after sundown when we arrived at the north side of Greystone Mountain. Once we got out of the cars, Patrick handed me a black, long-sleeved sort of armor made of thick and rough fabric.

The forest was a cathedral of shadows as our strike force moved through the darkness. Thirty Nightshade warriors rode in perfect silence, their horses' hooves muffled by strips of leather wrapped around each shoe. We were ghosts in the night, death given form and purpose. I rode beside Darius at the formation's head, my borrowed armor feeling strange against skin that had grown accustomed to servant's clothes. The throwing knives Moira had given me hung at my belt, their weight both comforting and terrifying. In a few hours, I would discover whether I truly had the stomach for war.

he joked. “It means night or darkness,” she said. “Opposite of light or day. You’re day, I’m night. It’s like fate is telling us through our names that we can never be together. Night and day are always apart. When one comes, the other one leaves. Y-You’re peace, I am chaos. You’re perfect, I’m broken.” Tears started to well in her eyes at that moment and he wanted to touch her by her shoulder and pull her closer to him to console him, and maybe kiss her tears dry, but he was apprehensive that it would just drive her more away from him.

In remembrance! In remembrance! Lord Nox, the God of War, succumbed to the siege by the Ten Nations and perished in the treacherous Ocean of Death. The battleground witnessed not only the staining of azure waters but also a sea adorned with lifeless forms, as Lord Nox, with unmatched prowess, faced and conquered the formidable lions of the Ten Nations.Contrary to popular belief attributing Lord Nox's demise to the collective might of the Ten Nations, the truth unfolds that the one responsible for extinguishing his life was none other than the woman who held the deepest place in his heart.In the passage of time, Nox Greenshade stood atop the towering peaks, gazing upon the vast expanse below

Remy (voice raw): “I still have nightmares that one day I’ll wake up and the coyote will have taken too much. That I’ll hurt you. And you’ll finally see the monster everyone warned you about.” His fingers tremble in mine (only I feel it). Seras stands beside us, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fire licking her wrists. Seras: “I keep the armor on at night because I’m scared if I take it off I’ll disappear again. Like the girl I was before the mountain never actually existed.” Lucian’s wings unfurl slow, sheltering all of us. Lucian: “I was ready to let the world burn if it meant keeping her warm.

"You think poison improved my personality?" "A little, but you are so dramatic." I laughed before I could stop myself. "I learned from you." Heat immediately surged into my cheeks. Why did everything sound sensual whenever he said it? He walked toward the center of the room, where his armor reflected the firelight. Unlike battlefield armor, tonight’s attire was ceremonial, elegant, but heavy. I learnt the armor was layered with engraved lunar steel, reinforced with energy fibers woven beneath ancient runes. It was impossible to remove alone. He turned around. "Gina."

The Citadel’s shattered bells still trembled in the dawn air when the ivory bone banners of the northern legion advanced, spectral warriors clad in furnaced steel, armor glimmering like ghost fire. Nyra Duskbane stood on the ramparts, her threefold runes dim after Mother of Ruin’s defeat, her cloak torn but her spirit unbroken. Beside her, Ryker leaned on Urhan’s broad shoulder, Caelum and Kaelia watched the children with wary eyes, and Aelion hovered in wounded grace under silver wings.

The kingdom could fall, the crown could shatter nothing was as intoxicating as this forbidden closeness. And as her nails dragged lightly across his neck, a quiet moan escaping her lips, the third sin was sealed. The First Night of Betrayal The storm outside had become a hymn, thunder drumming in time with their breaths, lightning igniting the room in fleeting flashes. Shadows danced across velvet walls as if bearing witness to their undoing. His gauntlets were gone, then his breastplate, each piece of armor falling heavy to the floor the sound of chains breaking. He stood before her not as a knight, but as a man stripped of duty, trembling with a hunger he could no longer contain.