Clarissa Novels & Stories

Kyle muttered as he took his leave. Back at the Clarissa burial site, Sophia couldn't control her tears, the one person she could call mother was gone. Clarissa was a young girl from a small town she grew up in the southern part of the country, unlucky for her, her small town was cut between a war with the north and south, Her people didn't make it. she was the last of her people but now she's gone.

Demetria asked curiously. Clarice shakes her head. “No. I’m upset. My husband judged me unfairly before I could prove anything,” she responded gloomily. “Oh, sorry to hear that, dear. Don't worry, he will come around. Give him enough time to adjust,” Demetria said sympathetically. “I hope so,” Clarice said in distress. “So, what else did you do outside?” Demetria asked. “I killed Aurelia, Kaspar and Viviana. They’re already dead,” Clarice said with a smile, proud of her accomplishment.

Clarissa lived alone in the East Tower villa with its private garden, where vibrant flowers bloomed. She sat in a pavilion at the garden's center, wearing a claret robe and holding a moonstone-staff topped with a lunar crescent. Her face looked haggard. "Good afternoon, Clarissa," Erasmus greeted with a bow. Clarissa's claws dug into her seat. Frost-laced pheromones crystallized the air, forcing Fabian to kneel ten paces away, his Beta ears trembling under her pressure. "You condone this madness?" she hissed, her slit pupils glowing blood-red. "When Frostfang's Alpha spilled seven lives to pave yo

I felt my stomach churn. Clarissa. Clarissa killed Chloe. Chloe had been murdered, and all this time, the person responsible had been right in front of me. My hands trembled in my lap, my mind reeling. Clarissa turned to me, her eyes wide, glassy with tears. “Erica, please,” she begged. “Tell him. Tell him I’m not a bad person—I was just scared. It was a mistake! You have to believe me—I never meant to—”

"So this is the upbringing of Mrs. Johansen. How uncouth." Clarissa's eyes widened as she glared at the woman. No one had asked her to speak, yet she insisted on opening her mouth anyway. The woman was Giselle Laurent. She had always despised homewreckers. She looked at the crowd and spoke loudly, "Clarissa rose to her position as a mistress herself. I know her, and I also know Ms. Lodge standing here. "Clarissa is the real third party. There's something wrong with her. Instead of living her life with her husband, she keeps targeting Seraphine and humiliating her."

“And do you think the future Luna needs permission to visit a blind traitor?” They exchanged glances before reluctantly stepping aside. The door creaked open, revealing a dim, musty room with rough stone walls. Chains clinked softly from inside. Clarissa sat cross-legged on the floor, her once-lustrous hair matted and tangled. Her eyes, milky and clouded, stared blankly ahead. She was pale, thinner. Yet something about her still radiated quiet strength. She tilted her head. “Helen.” Her voice was calm. Too calm.

I stood up from the cold tiles with renewed strength. I was no longer the girl who obeyed his every command even though i was hurting, the girl who was scared to lose him, the girl who waited for him to choose her. I was Clarissa hart, daughter of one of the wealthiest men in the city, a woman who had willingly given her life to the wrong man. Not again. Today I would take the first step. I would see my parents again. The parents I haven’t seen for years, the parents I didn’t get to hug one last time before my death, Blake made sure of that

The little one kicks softly like a tiny reminder that I am not alone in this and truly, I am not alone. I have Liam beside me, his warm, rubbing touch sending tiny sparks racing through my body. Gosh, I love him so much, and after everything that has happened to us, I love him even more. Right then, the door at the far end of the hall suddenly opens and when I lift up my head, I see three people walking in, their chains rattling around their wrists and ankles. Clarissa. Louise. And Yvonne. Clarissa is first on the line, walking with her face held high as if she still owns the world. Her dress is torn and wrinkled, but her eyes a

Roger could be a formidable opponent when it came to cattiness. “At last you have arrived,” said a soft voice behind me. I turned to see a beautiful dark-haired woman who was about my height and size smiling warmly. Her dark eyes glowed with the same amber lighting as Marc’s and Sally’s, which made me wonder if she was a relative of theirs. “I’m Clarissa,” she said. “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “So many people came up to us that I’m still trying to remember everyone.” “No apologies necessary,” she chuckled, “especially since I never approached that foolish older brother of mine in such an antiquated way.”

And they prohibited most of the abilities that make me a demon from usage. I nickname the man Jerk, although my clairvoyance told me he is a regular human nicknamed Jackal. I don’t know what business he has with Scarlet, but she is allowing him to flip up her skirt under the covered table, which I can see from the table behind. His left-hand glides down her skirt and feels her bare bottom. She is wearing a lacy thong that matches her bra and while seeing the lace gives me a reaction; I am jealous that someone else, instead of me, has his dirty fingers touching her intimate parts.