Novel & Cerita Call Cruel King

Not the kind of glow from ballroom candles or moonlight, but the kind that warned of a storm. He looked furious. No lethal. “Touch her again…” the King said, his voice deep, dark, and deadly, “and your death will be slow.” The drunk who had grabbed me stammered something, but the King didn’t give him a chance. In one fluid motion, his claws extended, razor-sharp and glinting under the moonlight. Before any of them could run, he lunged. Slash. One man dropped instantly, blood pooling beneath him. The second barely had time to scream before the King’s claws ripped clean through his chest. His body collapsed beside the first.

"Who said this would be easy? The queen was clearly pleased with him yesterday, and today he's dead. He didn't even last twenty-four hours. She's so brutal—how are we supposed to win her over?" "It's impossible. We'll never make it back home. We might as well wait here to die!" Only I remained as calm as before, replaying everything that had happened the day before. The company had organized an overseas trip. Then the plane crashed. When we opened our eyes again, we had all transmigrated into a novel as challengers. Our target was the story's female lead—the Queen Rara McKayla. She ruled the world, peerlessly beautiful, yet notoriously mercurial. History recorded countless examples of her cr

“Leave my people! You’re slaughtering us!” Caleb laughed, deep and ancient, his voice already no longer his own. His gaze slid past the king, to the queen. And she was magnificent. Golden wings, brighter than the storm. Hair that burned like fire. Eyes deep and brown, filled with fear. Caleb reached her, grabbed her chin with his claws, and crushed his lips to hers. The king roared, lunging forward with his sword raised high. But Caleb didn’t even flinch. He raised his hand, pressing his palm against the king’s forehead.

​Before Varek could even fall backward, Kael’s massive hand shot out, seizing the trader by his bare throat and lifting his heavy frame effortlessly off the stone ground with one arm. ​"You wanted to negotiate so badly," Kael whispered, his glowing crimson eyes blazing with an terrifying, apocalyptic fury. ​He slowly tightened his grip, the sound of cartilage groaning under the pressure. ​"Now..." Kael’s voice vibrated deep within his chest. "...you will learn precisely why they call me the Ruthless Lycan King."

"I did not choose life just to watch you bleed out in my arms. Do not make me a widow before I am even a mate." Kaelen stepped forward, his jaw tight. He looked at Cillian with a mixture of disgust and a dark, reluctant respect. "Your pride is going to kill him, Warlord. Can you walk, or do I need to drag you by your crown?" "Do not touch me," Cillian growled weakly, a pathetic remnant of his Alpha pride trying to survive. "I carry my own." With a low grunt of pure, blinding agony, the King strained his massive legs and forced himself up from the red snow. He stumbled dangerously. I braced myself to hit the ground, but his arms locked around me like iron chains. He refused to let me go.

She screamed, and her eyes opened wide as she began to look around frantically. “Let me go!” I laughed at her feeble attempt to get away from me, it wasn't working, so she should stop. “You know, I'm not just known as the Alpha, I'm also known as the cursed King. Want to know why?” I asked, my voice getting deeper as I allowed Storm to take over. I knew that this wasn't going to be a pretty sight after he was done with her, I just hope for the goddess sake that she's still alive because I wanted a pup from her and I should get my money's worth.

His hands kept working, adding layers of bandages as if he couldn’t stop. His silver hair brushed against my face, soft like silk. But his hands, wrapped around my waist, trembled. “Oh, Klaus, you never fail to entertain me,” Lyle sneered from across the room, watching like a satisfied spectator. He spared a glance at the dying king, then sauntered over, lifting his head arrogantly. “Long time no see, my dear King Hommes,” Lyle’s gaze locked onto the king’s pale, terrified face. “You... Lyle?” The king’s eyes darted from Klaus to Lyle, his expression shifting to realization as he murmured Lyle’s name. Panic set in, and he turned to Klaus, yelling, “Kill him! Klaus! I command you to kill him!

The one time I came close to exposing Alpha Stephen to a senior shewolf in the palace, she accused me of blasphemy against the king, and of course she didn't fail to remind me that the punishment was cooking the offender alive until she died. The Alpha is still moving towards me. I can't remember the way it happened that night, but if I'm going to kill King Stephen CruelHart again, I better do it right this time. I pick up a knife and run towards him, jumping on him. He grabs my ass in reflexive motion, and I hold to his neck as I stab his back, dragging the knife across his back, stabbing it repeatedly into his back. The king's image fades out into my face.

King Ryker of Neela, it's a pleasure to meet you," King Luther muttered, studying the man in front of him. "The pleasure is mine, King Luther," Carl retorted, tilting his gaze to King Luther. A scowl appeared on his face, and his fist curled into a ball as the image of his people replayed in his head. Carl wanted nothing more than to slit king Luther's throat there and then, but he knew the consequences of doing so. However, it was not the right time. "King Ryker, this is my daughter Myla," King Luther pointed to Myla, who walked seductively toward Carl with a huge smile on her face

So I chose to act pissed. So I knocked on the door, a bold but nice and pleasant voice said "come in," immediately I came in he dismissed his guards, since we were alone thoughts of killing him flooded my mind. But then I had to put them off. It wasn't time for that yet, I told my self and stood there until he told me to come closer and when I did, he was surprised there were three cups of coffee on the tray. I then started to act mad so I said,