Arielle And Vinson Novel Novels & Stories

Arianthe The ballroom was a glittering dreamscape of crystal chandeliers, golden candelabras, and polished marble. From where I stood along the edge of the dance floor, it seemed like another world, one where I might actually belong. For once, eyes weren't sliding past me as if I were invisible. Instead, curious glances and whispered conversations followed in my wake. Not because I was Princess Arianthe the Wolfless, but because Prince Thorne Silvercliff had shown interest in me.

I could feel her body tense, her muscles straining against my grip. But I held firm, refusing to let go. I could smell the sweet scent of her lavender perfume and feel the warmth of her body against mine. It was a heady feeling, one that left me almost breathless. "What do you think?" I continued, letting the tension build. "Do you really think you can beat me up?" (ARIELLE'S POV) I glared at the texture of the bench beneath me, my breath coming out shallow. I wasn't one to cower easily, but this...this was different. The position was humiliating, and my pride was wounded. But I refused to let him see the extent of my discomfort.

Arielle whimpered, leaning into him as she clutched her stomach. “She’s bleeding!” “Oh no!” “Cassie did this to her!” Then I saw blood dripping down her legs. “It hurts so much! Cassie did this to me!” Arielle cried, pointing a finger at me. “That’s a lie!” I shouted, pointing a trembling finger at her. “You’ve been sneaking around with him this whole time!” But Lance’s glare was ice-cold. “Cassie, enough! You’ve done enough!” My throat tightened as I watched Arielle snuggle closer, a faint, smug smirk on her lips. Lance wrapped a protective arm around her, whispering soft reassurances.

“Continue talking.” Ophelia shoved Akira onto a sofa, and crouched in front of her to stare directly in her face. Then Akira told her all that had happened, from the point she was given the order to set up the poisoned vent, how everyone was retiring for the night when Ariel showed up, and how she ran into her just as she walked into the minister’s wife's room. How the house was silent for a long while after that, till Blaine showed up. And it was chaos, fast cars, ambulances and their sirens.

Her smile glimmered against the wine—beautiful, deceptive, poisonous. Aria Vale, enjoy your sweet little dream while it lasts. Soon, you’ll be ruined—thrown out of the Cross mansion, despised by all of Meridian City.

Gabriel's POV Damn it. If I had known what Jennie wanted to talk about, I wouldn't have answered that phonecall. No. That wasn't Jennie. When I got back to the beach house, Arielle was already standing outside with her clutch in hand. "I thought you weren't coming back," she said, her gaze fixed on the ground. "I made a promise," I said. "Well, I'm tired. I'm done for the night." She tightened her grip on her clutch. "I want to go home. I was about to call—"

Gianna's POV Arielle leaned back in her chair, acting all innocent. "What did you think I was going to say?" Dante's scowl deepened. "And how would you know what newly married couples do?" "Books." She shrugged and picked up her orange juice. "Movies. The internet exists, you know. I'm not living under a rock." "The books I specifically told Selene not to give you." "She didn't give them to me." Arielle's smile turned sweet. "I have my ways."

Everything was perfect. Aria felt a flutter in her stomach. Not nerves about the wedding she'd already married Dante in every way that mattered. But anticipation. The knowledge that in a month, she would stand in this place and choose him again. Would say vows that meant something. Would reclaim this land and transform it into something beautiful. She didn't know that Vincent had died in his prison cell the night before. Dante hadn't told her. Had simply arranged for a death that looked like suicide. Had ensured that the threat was neutralized without her ever having to know how.

she murmured. “Yes.” Something about that answer felt like a warning. She swallowed. “Goodnight… whoever you are.” A small pause. Then softly— “Goodnight, Arielle.” The line disconnected. --- Across the city, Kael Virelli lowered the phone slowly. The room around him was silent. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan’s glittering skyline. Below, traffic flowed like veins of light. He hadn’t moved the entire duration of the call. Arielle. Drunk. Emotional. Honest.

My skin was flawless, glowing with a faint, iridescent silver hue that repelled the very rain falling from the sky as I broke the surface of the ocean, drawing in a sharp, gasping breath of the stormy night air. I dragged myself onto a hidden, rocky shore beneath the cliffs, my long dark hair matting against my back. I reached into a waterproof bag I had buried near the rocks days prior, pulling out a sleek, floor-length gown of midnight black and the shimmering, diamond-cut silver token for Mask 99. Searing, addictive vengeance coursed through my blood, making my silver eyes flare in the dark. Kael and Seraphina were up at the elite estate right now, raising a glass, celebrating the murder