Bowsette Novels & Stories

Every detail seemed to radiate a sense of otherworldly allure, leaving me spellbound in the girl's presence. “Hi.” She said in smiles. “Didn't see you there.” “Aurora is the name.” “Hi, I'm Gwen.” I shook her hands in admiration. It was so cool to know she could control the direction of the wind. “You're very pretty.” She complimented me, smiling. “You’re prettier.” I replied blushing. “Don't try to be modest, you're the prettiest thing I've ever seen.” “Why does his taste have to be so rich?.” “Why is he so perfect?.” She lamented. We both laughed.

A smile plays on my lips, knowing that the bow is a symbol of the prize that I am to him—an eternal gift. I lift the babydoll from the box, letting the towel fall to my feet. The fabric is soft and cool against my heated skin as I slip it over my head, the mesh skimming my curves like a lover’s touch. I reach for the bow, my damp hair tumbling around my shoulders as I gather it up and secure the bow in place, pinning back the loose strands. A few wisps escape, kissing my neck and collarbone. Wow…

If anything urgent came up, he could quickly mobilize more men. As she set out, Carissa wore the bracelet her seventh uncle had sent her, with a red whip coiled around her waist. Holding the Rose Spear firmly, she mounted her horse with ease. Her attire was a simple green tunic over soft armor, her hair tied up in a high ponytail that gave her a sharp and commanding look.

(Celeste Moretti's POV) Celeste stood in front of the full length mirror and gently smoothed the front of her white boucle jacket. It fit perfectly around her waist and matched the cream knee length skirt she had chosen. Eleanor's family bracelet rested neatly around her wrist, while her dark chestnut hair flowed freely over her shoulders. She looked exactly the way she wanted to look. Calm, elegant, and completely in control. At least that was how she appeared on the outside.

"So I made you something better." She lifts a bundle out of the case lid. Crossbow bolts, except the heads are wrong. Orange syringe barrels are seated where my broadheads used to sit. "Your Alpha says you're an incomparable shot with that contraption of yours. I fitted these to some shafts that are compatible with your bow. Break one and you're paying for it." Her gaze narrows in on my arm and she stalks over, grabbing my wrist and turning my forearm over before she pushes up the sleeve of my sweater.

The black coloring of the wooden bow was mixed with a considerable amount of flakes of vaelusian ore to aid it in withstanding blows from swords, a trick he doubted even the seminary was capable of. "It's growing on me," he replied, taking his hand from it. "Yes. Priestess Emeril was also uncomfortable for a while when she was first made first bow in the convent. Grew on her easily, too." Sethlzaar looked at him, confused. "You knew Priestess Emeril when she was in the convent?"

She had crafted a bow with the help of her master, which had slots for three arrows. For the entire month, bows were her steady partners. The arrows from it flew straight and right on the target. She realized that the bows and arrows were just the tools because she shot with her heart. Her passion for it grew at an alarming rate. She even designed a wooden ring that had a metal button ring on the base. One push of the button and the metal spike would come out from all sides, which if tipped in poison could kill the enemy immediately.

He stood tall and inquired, "What bow is that?" Bowen and Veron appeared distressed. Veron immediately took the Sunset Bow and replied to the owner, "You are such an interesting person. What makes you think we should tell you what bow is that? Mind your own business."

It made him look like a besotted grandfather for a moment instead of an awe-inspiring being. “Very well, then, I accept your request,” he said. Cory breathed a massive sigh of relief. Hayden loosened his grip on her wrist. Everyone seemed less tense. The wind began to blow through the trees again as if it too had been waiting. “I will entrust you with a task and if you complete it to my satisfaction, the Amber Bow is yours but take heed,” said Papa Bois ominously, “the Bow has a mind of its own. The arrows will not fly straight if shot by someone the Bow distrusts even if I willingly hand over the Bow to that person. The Bow denies even me when it deems a target inappropriate. It has its own

she looks at me and releases a cunning smile. “What an untamed beauty” with that said she walks back to stand beside uncle frank. “Well enough with the formalities, now let’s get straight to the point” I look up and follow the direction of the voice, Mr. Archer. His very slim and lanky hands are one of his very prominent features; no one has fingers as long as his. He walks towards me and then maneuvers his way around me, with no effort he slices through the rope, like a skilled marine, he then walks toward me so that he is standing in my way.