Apollyon For Honor Face Novels & Stories

Valerian answered, waving at the unfamiliar old man. I linked my eyes with Father and the frown that was aimed at me made my heart skip a beat. I hadn’t done anything wrong but I couldn’t control my racing heart. Bad things always happened to me whenever Father frowned because of me. “King Iyrick,” Valerian greeted with a slight bow. I followed suit behind him. “Crown Prince Valerian.” Something about the way the king called Valerian’s name gave me the creeps. I raised my head to meet his awkward stare.

My fury was mounting. “Because I CANNOT be mated with a weak wolf-less she-wolf!” My wolf Apollo was clawing at my chest, wanting out to tear this prejudiced prick a new asshole. I did one better. I jabbed him in the nose and felt a satisfying cartilage and bone crunch. Hunter, shocked at my assault, cupped his face and snapped his nose back into place. His Alpha healing is already complete. No blood escaped the once-damaged appendage. Damn! Should have hit him harder!

Apollo was, in every way that mattered, a cocky, shameless womanizer—worse than even Gael, which was saying something. To me, Apollo had only one redeeming quality, and I loathed admitting it: his face. His face was undeniably more beautiful than Rominic's. And for me to think that, when Rominic was a god walking among mortals, meant Apollo was truly infuriatingly stunning.

I was about to get up and locate the position of the sniper who shoot me but Pollux announces that we need to pulled back making me stop. "What?" I complain. "You heard me, woman. Pulled back, get out of there right now. They are heading on your direction" I ENTER the Costello Mansion with a frown plastered on my face. I saw how Apollo immediately stand on his seat the moment I enter the living room. "What was that?" I expelled as I stop in front of him. "I am not hurt but look at your face" he playfully utter and was about to reach the small wound under my left eye but I rudely slap his hand away.

I could also see he was wearing a white fur coat. “Thank you for having us Madam Amelia.” Kent said with a bow. “Of course.” I couldn’t see my mother but I heard her voice and it was quivering. “Does he have to stay like this?” I roamed my eyes around and gasped as I spotted a black dog—no,not a dog, a wolf. I had never seen a wolf in broad daylight. My gasp may have been loud because Kent’s head turned up to locate the sound. This enabled me to see his face. It was more innocent than I expected. His face was paper white with flushed pink cheeks. His nose was almost as buttoned as Marianna, but his jaw was where you could see the alpha. It moved as he looked around. It was sharp enough to cu

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Peering into his eyes told her a few things. His pupils were unusually large and he seemed a little confused. Jacob had obviously drugged him pretty strongly but she had no idea what he’d used. The powerful guy sprawled on the floor probably couldn’t move. He’d have fought otherwise when Jacob had assaulted him. He lay meekly next to her but his eyes were lively and another growl tore from his slightly parted lips. She tried not to shiver from the sight of his sharp fangs.

Then, at exactly six-twelve — three minutes before the ritual was supposed to end — a sound emerged from the well. It was not wind. It was not water. It was a voice — ancient, cracked, and strangely familiar. It spoke a single word: "Eleanor." Her blood turned cold. The villagers turned as one, looking directly at her hiding spot. Their faces were not angry. They were worse than angry. They were patient. They were expectant. They had known she would be there. They had known for a hundred years that someone named Eleanor would come, would hide, would hear her name called from the well.

"That's all the fun I need for now. I will in turn protect you from harm while I find an alternative to send you back home." He sounds genuine, but he just said moments ago that I can't hold the Kings to their words. "Should I trust you, Apolyon?" He tips his nose upward. "You don't have to take my word for it." What in the goddesses' name does this man mean? "Is it a yes or a no?" I ask him, feeling a little too brave. "It is a no."

“He wants Apollo’s strength—so he can become the most powerful werewolf in existence.” A chill swept down my spine. “Who is Apollo?” I asked quietly. My father met my gaze, his expression grim. “Apollo was the first werewolf. The God of War. The strongest being the moon goddess ever created.” My stomach clenched. That kind of power—in Anthony’s hands? It would mean ruin. Chaos. Destruction. My father stepped closer, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. “That’s why Devlin wants you,” he said softly. My breath hitched. “What does this have to do with me?”

A girl with black hair and similar eyes stood there in a khaki jumpsuit, her expression blank, but what made me lean into Zeus was her warrior-like-built. I felt his breath against my ear. “Don't show them your fear. Show them who you are. Their future Luna; the one who will reign over them.” I blinked and craned my neck back to gaze at him. He assured me with his eyes and then, placed a lingering kiss onto my forehead. “I love you,” I said, feeling my insides burst with warmth and adoration. “I love you more,” he replied. My lips split in two. “I love you most.”