Novel & Cerita Blood And Cheese Game Of Thrones

“But crowns forged in shadow break under light. And soon, yours will too.” Serenya’s hands trembled, though she hid them in her gown’s folds. Every word felt like a blade, every glance a test. Yet she lifted her chin once more, forcing her heart to still. The game of thrones had begun—and in shadows, the deadliest moves were made.

He affirmed. "And?" I whispered. Why the fuck was I flirting with him? "And I'll fuck you on that huge dressing table of yours. I'll make sure I fuck you so hard your back slams into that mirror until it shatters. And then, I'll put a bullet in that dirty, wicked heart of yours." He breathed out a laugh. "You'll die, Ginevra, with my cum dripping out of your cunt and my bullet in your heart." Ricardo reached for the door and I called out to him, gaining his attention. "Have you forgotten? We are bound by blood. I die, you die, mi amore."

From the base of that throne, from the cracks in the stone beneath it, thin, dark lines were sliding outward. Blood. It wormed its way into the grout between tiles, spider-webbing toward us like crimson fingers. The throne itself pulsed once, faintly. My Regret Mark burned hot enough to hurt. I swallowed. “Okay,” I said, voice hoarse. “So I’m guessing ‘penalty event’ doesn’t mean we lose points off our final grade.” No one laughed. The House had woken something deeper than vampire wolves. And if my stories were anything to go by, thrones that bled were never a good sign for anyone still standing.

I hoped to play the hero–or heroin. Blood painted the stone walls of the fortress, they smelt like fresh blood. Before me in a long hallway was a huge door with few lifeless men littering the door entrance. My heart thuds as I make my brave steps towards the door. What's behind the door could be the dreadful one who slayed the men I met on the way. Also the one who might be keeping Emmett captive, because for what I know, he was immortal.

I groan as pain explodes in my temple and hot liquid cascades down my face. The fvcker. “Blood—yum.” He grins, and he’s definitely not faking it. The sick fvck does enjoy the sight of blood more than anything. “Let’s start with those pretty nails, eh?” He steps behind me and takes my hand in his. I tense, holding my breath. If he hurts my sniper arm, I’m going to bloody murder him. “Oh wait.” He motions at one of the guards. “Pass me a knife, would ya? I want to cut his skin at the same time.”

Alaric roared to my men, standing protectively in front of Vesh. ​Vesh stood up slowly, her twin swords dripping with black blood. She didn't look back at me. She turned and walked into the carnage, a white ghost in the dark, leaving me bleeding on the ground with the absolute, undeniable truth.

The house didn’t feel like mine anymore once the gunfire stopped. Declan’s men moved through the estate with brisk, practiced efficiency, zip-tying the guards who were still breathing, calling for a cleanup crew, sweeping every room for anything the Ghost might have left behind. I stood in the middle of the foyer, blood — not mine — drying on my knuckles, and tried to remember how to breathe like a person who hadn’t just watched her home turned into a battlefield. “Sera.” Declan’s hand found my shoulder, gentler than it had any right to be given the last ten minutes. “You’re not hurt?”

“He’s playing a sick, elaborate game.” “And we’re walking into his dining room tomorrow night?” The absurdity of it was staggering. “We have no choice. To refuse is to declare open war, and he holds the high ground. The family, the capos… their loyalty is a weathervane. If he brands me as unstable, as putting a stranger above blood…” He didn’t need to finish. “We go. We play his game. And we find a way to turn it.” We. The word hung between them. An alliance, forged in the belly of the beast.

And I froze when the walls became fully visible. My heart stopped. My breath caught in my throat. The walls were covered in something dark, wet and red. Blood! The walls were covered in blood. And words were written on it with blood. Large letters smeared across the concrete. On the wall, written in blood was a message meant only for me. I read them slowly. And each word was like a knife to my heart. "Irina is mine now. No one is coming for you. You will die in that chair, brother!"

She ran straight into Ethan's arms, trembling like a fragile, helpless bird. "Impressive, Mr. West. Truly, you're a once-in-a-lifetime perfect husband," Amber mocked, her every word like a slap across Ethan's face. However, his body instinctively shielded the woman in his arms. I looked into his eyes, my body pressed against the railing. I calmly said, "Ethan West, you want me dead." His brows furrowed even deeper. He denied it, saying he did not want to play childish games with me anymore.