Novel & Cerita Bloody Queen Idv

Sworn enemies yet, she is the only woman who can put out the fire in our bloodlines. “What are you waiting for, Leo? A fucking invitation? Shoot her knees!” My father orders. I cock the gun, waiting for Zeyneps’ jaded-coloured irises to meet mine, and when they do, I wink at her. Quickly, I lift my arm and press the gun in my grasp against the side of my father’s head, with my index finger resting on the trigger. “Long live the Defiant Queen, Zeynep Volkov, heir of the true Artemis ‘Wolf’ Volkov,” I say in a firm tone and pull the trigger, murdering my father.

But then, watching the same people over and over again gets boring overtime. Diving into the book, I reopen to one of my favorite parts of the lycan battles. It is the chapter where the lycan king was brought to his knees by the queen, and makes she him beg her for his life. He wasn’t expecting her, or that she would even do something like that. It is what makes me like it more. I feel like I relate to the queen well. She has always been undermined and underrated, then she wound her full potential and—

The remnants of Bonbon's ethereal fabric swirled, ceaselessly hurling torrents of energy, a relentless cascade of support. Around me, a symphony of struggle unfolded. Comrades fought valiantly, staking their lives to defend me and the artifact I bore. My heart thrummed with a feverish rhythm, my veins coursing with an electric charge of power. "You are born to be a leader, a fiery and resolute leader... The gift I possess would be wasted. But now I see you, I see the brilliance within you, Idrish." The queen's voice reverberated within my mind, a balm of assurance before a numbing chill encased my chest. Her words echoed, "I see the brilliance within you, Idrish."

Her eyes, crimson as fresh wounds, locked on Blue with hunger and triumph. “My daughter,” the Blood Queen purred, her voice like velvet over steel. “You’ve finally come home.” Blue’s blood ran cold, but she stood her ground, power crackling in the air around her. “I’m not your daughter,” she spat, her voice shaking the earth. “And I’ll never be your queen.” The Blood Queen laughed—a sound that made the stars shiver. “We’ll see.” And then, the night descended into war. ---

"My husband died and that girl hid his body and death certificate. Ivy, I didn't want her to marry your son because she's evil." Ivy didn't know how she held it all in. She hadn't spoken to Queenie since the day Abigail got married to Tony. Seeing her true colours now, she wondered what made them friends before. "How is she evil?" Queenie looked left and right. This was her chance. "Did she tell you she was infertile?" Ivy stiffened slightly. "She won't because she secretly wants to end your lineage. I was just saving you from it all. My daughters are very fertile but it's too late now isn't it?" She pressed her lips together, letting Ivy know that she had good reasons for not wanting Abigai

[Faye/Morgana] "Let our queen go," Queenie threatens firmly as she calmly pulls a long syringe from within a large white bag hanging across her chest. The syringe is full of a strange green fluid that glows a faint blue in the candlelight. "This is a concentrated dose of the toxin he breathed when opening the box of flowers I placed on your doorstep. I will put this in his IV if you do not stop," she grins toothily, giddy with power, "Right now."

"As you stated, I am not yet his mate. But that is a temporary state. I am the future queen of the Blackthorne Bloodmoon pack. I do not tolerate common wolves sniffing around my territory. I want you to vanish from Idris’s sight." I lick my lips, my eyes dancing with a dangerous, dark amusement. "So, you are attempting to bribe me to abandon the Alpha King?" "Your salary as a coroner is a pittance, is it not? I will grant you five million. Leave Idris, sever all links to his pack, and never allow your scent to cross his path again." She pauses, her fingers twitching. "If five million is not enough to quench your greed, name your price."

The war came faster than blood dries. By the third dawn after the blood moon feast, the eastern horizon bristled with torches. Queen Isolde Valcour—mother to the dead princess, widow of a hundred battles—had not waited for confirmation. She had felt the bond sever, felt her daughter’s soul ripped from flesh, and she had answered with steel and starvation.

“Why do you say that?” Linhua thinks back to the Queen’s reaction when she saw the blonde’s face, and shakes her head. As if her trouble thoughts are making her thirty, she lifts the cup and drowns the rest of the drink inside. “The Queen is obsessed with her,” she says a little too loudly. The door opens just as the words leaves her mouth, and Linhua flies to her feet, while choking on her spit. She stares wide-eyed at the Queen who just emerged from the inner chamber.