Caius Volturi Novels & Stories

I chuckled. "It's a free show. You're only seeing live what you watch on your phones anyway. And don't lie and say you don't," Tyce taunted us. We all laughed, immediately groaning from the pain it caused. "Blake, Alexander, Tyson, I owe all of you," Alpha Antoine spoke in his French Canadian accent. "Both Lune Nordique and Bois Sombre are at your disposal. Any time you need help, our warriors are yours." "That's all we ask," Alex responded. "You can never have too many friends when it comes to war."

A long, black tendril of his hair tickled her skin as he leaned forward and ran his tongue slowly up her spine. She shivered and moaned, making his cock flex at the sound. He licked up her spine again and again, taking a moment to nip with his teeth, which sent her into a frenzy of movement. Her skin looked so delicate, but he knew her heritage made her a thousand times stronger than he was, even when he was in full health. Cassia was Vârcolac: both vampire and wolf. She had a feisty lust that made her the most alluring woman he had ever lain with.

do you know where I'm going? -No ... you wouldn't find them- says the man with a broken voice. Azael laughs again. -Don't you know who I am? The man shakes his head. Azael takes a few seconds to respond. A malicious smile forms on his face before he does so. -I'm Azael Volkov. Dutson's son. I feel the man's face go completely pale. We all watch the scene in silence, no one dares to speak. - That mafia is dead ...- he says in just a whisper.

Caius said, his voice dripping with triumph, "that we’ve seen enough." He turned his gaze toward Vane. The Elder looked like he wanted to shrink into the shadows. He was trembling, he knew exactly what he’d just witnessed. He assumed I’d used some kind of hidden mechanism, a trick, or perhaps a minor, pathetic talent that didn't matter. He didn't realize I’d just rewritten the physics of the floor. He didn't know I was capable of anything more than being a 'human' vessel. "Does anyone else," Caius continued, his voice darkening, "have any questions about my consort’s... 'human' limitations?"

Seb keeps his eyes on the guy and stands near the man, twirling his axes in a vaguely threatening manner, “What’s your name anyway?” The guy smirks and inclines his head, “Apologies, I am Caelius Notaro, of the house Notaro in Genoa, Italy. We are a respected house; I was drawn to the Veil for their ideals of unity and peace. The ones I followed here, I am undercover with them from my side of the Veil. They are led by a crazed man who wants a genocide of the Humans. I do not wish for that, nor does my house, or The Veil I truly work for. I stand against these bastards who would kill others for little more than personal preference.” Seb nods,

Livia spun around. He leaned against a column just a few steps away, as if the night itself belonged to him. Marcus Aurelius Caius. The eldest son of the hated clan. Tall, broad-shouldered, with the physique of a man equally at home in the Senate and in swordplay. His dark hair fell in wavy strands across his forehead, and his eyes—an unusual, deep golden-brown—seemed to glow in the torchlight. He wore a tunic of midnight-blue wool, fastened at the shoulders by a golden fibula. The fibula depicted a dove with an arrow in its beak—the symbol of Venus. "Perhaps that is exactly what I am doing," Livia replied coolly, yet her voice betrayed her. It was too soft. Too breathless.

Just barely. I think about Caius's face. Here is what I know about Alpha Caius Voss: he is thirty-one years old, he took the title at twenty-five when his father's heart gave out during a border dispute, he has never taken a Luna despite three years of pack pressure, and he runs Ironveil with the particular efficiency of a man who learned early that caring about individuals is a structural weakness. He is not cruel. I've said this before and I mean it precisely — he is not cruel the way a wall is not cruel. The wall doesn't want to hurt you. The wall just doesn't move.

Every step, every glance was measured, a silent signal of unity and power. Caius entered with a calculated air, eyes sharp, lips curled in a polite but predatory smile. He greeted the council members with smooth words, but Zaria could sense the undercurrent—the way he subtly positioned himself closer to influential members, the slight flexing of energy that hinted at latent power, and the glint of cunning in his gaze. Lucien’s golden eyes tracked him like a predator, muscles tense, jaw set. The bond pulsed sharply at Caius’ presence, warning Zaria that this rival was not merely political—he was supernatural, attuned to power in ways that made him a formidable opponent.

That's the rule, so the man have to sleep with someone in order to leave the hotel, unless the guy wants to live there forever. Darrem forgot that the lady wasn't aware of his role in this business. He has no plan on telling her anyway. If he would reveal to her that he was the CEO and founder of Casa Roma, he will lose the thrill of their meeting. He was Darrem Roma, the CEO and founder of Casa Roma. He was the youngest child of Chasy and Roy Roma, one of the richest businessman in America. Their family own Vianca Island, and many properties and land around the world. They also own T-RACE, a known shoe brand and Aromani Wine. His mother gave him the permission to manage the resort business

We snap and tear, locked together, power crashing between us. “You should have stayed mine!” he roars. “I was never yours!” I snarl back. I headbutt him, hard enough to crack bone. He yelps, stumbles and that’s when Draven hits him. Black and merciless. Draven slams Caius into the ground, jaws closing around his throat. Caius thrashes, claws scrabbling uselessly. Daemon appears at Draven’s side, grey blur, teeth sinking into Caius’s leg. Darius joins them, golden fury pinning Caius down.