Romans & histoires Beast Of The Yellow Night

He looked again at the book I was carrying and let out a sigh, as if what he was about to say weighed more than he had expected. “What you saw last night…” he began, his eyes serious, “wasn’t a nightmare or a hallucination. Scarlett, the creature that almost drowned you is a gorgon. A princess of the lake, to be exact.” The words barely seemed real, and for a moment I thought it had to be some kind of joke. “A… gorgon?” I repeated, incredulous. “Like in the legends?” “Yes.” Alex nodded, his expression completely certain. “I don’t know why a lake princess attacked you, but I promise I’ll find out.”

Calleb pleads, “I said, wait — The woman stopped and showed an image of a man. Tall. Dark and dangerous. His eyes were pitch black and his teeth were filled with blood and his crooked smile reached to his cheek bones. His flesh was covered with fur and he smelled like death — of decaying rats. He was trapped in a cage. And beside him was the beautiful woman with golden hair. “Run,run,run.” An eerie voice resounded. “Run while you can, little boy. Run while you can, for if the beast wakes up, I cannot protect you anymore.” And everything turned black before the ferocious beast woke up from its deep sleep. The beast was bigger than him. Stronger. His pheromones made Calleb inferior. Weak. The

She wanted to learn more, to understand what this place meant. The sound of rustling from the bushes broke her concentration. Kira’s instincts went on high alert, her senses sharpening. She moved silently, crouching low to the ground, every muscle tensed. A low growl emerged from the shadows, and Kira’s heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t a werewolf. The creature’s eyes glowed faintly, a sickly yellow-green. It was bigger than anything she had ever seen, a massive hulking beast with fur as dark as night, its teeth glistening with malice.

My spine snapped as I cried even more. I was covered in cold sweat, but even so. I couldn't stop the vicious monster from resurfacing, and after a long time of fighting to keep my inner beast in control. My wolf stood tall with nothing but fur covering my body. I was on four, and I was damned if I didn't know the color of my wolf. I bet my eyes were yellow or red but if they were a sharp crimson red, then I was doomed to kill for the rest of the night, starting with the little humans who bullied me.

The beast let out a frustrated snarl, its yellow eyes locking onto mine with a feral hatred. The fight was a blur of primal instinct and raw power. The Howler was strong, fueled by desperation and rage. It swiped at me with a bloody paw, leaving a deep gash across my shoulder. Pain flared, but I ignored it, focusing on the beast in front of me. Callista wasn't idle. She danced around the black wolf, flanking it and harassing it with quick, precise bites. The beast roared in frustration, its massive body lumbering after her. But she was too quick and too agile.

He could wait longer because he had been triggered to do only one thing; kill. But now, all he had was his claws and his golden glowing eyes which were enough machinery to paint the night red. He thought it would be a fair night until he inhaled the smell of bullets and guns, the beast knew it all. He charged immediately after positioning his prey. It had to be a silent slaughter night so that no soul in his household would be awakened by the cries and gunshots from his prey. Guns were cocked, but the target was varnished. The assassins were dressed in black like the night but they were spitted on by the moon's illumination, and it was just enough for the beast to lay waste their lives on th

My stomach dropped as I stared at Dr. O'neil's smiling face. Behind him the rich darkness called to me and the beast's growls racked invisible claws down my back. This was no werewolf. Whatever it was, it wasn't of any world and there was Devon. The two scents confused me, I wanted to turn tail and run the hell out of that place.

He could almost smell the blood drifting on the wind, alongside the screams. Wishing August was with them, Ralta held his ground despite his growing uneasiness. From the sound of the beasts, it would take far more than a single man to stop the things when they tired of the game they played and emerged from the trees. Without warning, one of the beasts came charging out of the shadows. Covered in white fur, it stood at least eight feet tall, eyes blazing yellow. Its lips twisted in an animal-like snarl of rage. The men near Ralta cried out, but he stayed firm.

“And it smells… beautiful.” Kaerith’s teeth pressed together as her hands clenched into fists in her lap, forcing a trembling breath out. Even as Rhazien spoke, Kaerith felt something far worse watching from beyond the dark. She felt a pulse. A hunger. It wasn’t Rhazien. It was the other one—the one they called the Beast. His shadow stretched across the chamber as he stood, his armor creaking. “To the court,” he snapped. The Woundmaidens seized Kaerith’s chain and dragged her toward the door, through the twisting tunnels of Murnokh, past rusted gates and bone lanterns.

With a scary look on his face, that man was gazing at Beast. Beast ordered a table and put his hand on it. In a nick of time, the colour of the light bulb turned red and Beast turned into a butcher, who was separating every single finger from his hand. The man was screaming in pain. But Beast was standing in a relaxed posture doing his work. Similarly, he also separated the fingers from his other hand. Now it was the turn of his feet.