Crimson Breath Of Resentment Novels & Stories

Levi said in a whisper voice Azrael and Lexi both jumped down from the vent following Levi. What welcomed them was the stinky dungeon. The stench of body odor and dried blood lingers through the air and Azrael was just trying her best not to vomit. The smell made them nauseous but determination took over. They all looked through the cells of the dungeon. They were wolves from the Crimson Crest pack, lying down without strength. At first glance you might think they are dead but they are not. They are only covered with their own blood and sweat but they are still breathing… barely alive.

My mother clutched her pearls and sighed, “It’s for the greater good.” Kael laughed as he twisted the blade one final time. “The Blackthorn empire doesn’t need weak blood.” The last thing I felt was the Moon Goddess’s whisper in the darkness: “Second chance, daughter. Rise and ruin them.” I gasped back to the present, tears streaming down my face, claws digging into the wooden floor. My stronger wolf howled inside me , not in pain this time, but in pure, unbridled fury. The seductive aura exploded outward, filling the entire apartment with thick, fertile scent. My heavy breasts heaved with each breath, nipples tight and aching. Slick ran down my thighs as grief transmuted into raw, vengeful

The one thing nine years in a closet had perfected. The rage. I gathered every ounce of fury I had for the wolves who killed my mother. Every spark of resentment for the three words Kael had spoken. Every bit of bitterness for the shoes I never had and the life I never lived. I turned the red light into a conduit for the blackest parts of my soul. I pushed the hate down the tether. The Widow's obsidian face cracked. A jagged white line split the black stone from forehead to chin. She shrieked, a sound like grinding metal, and staggered back. The scarlet feathers on her head began to wilt and turn grey.

"The astrologer said, as soon as you sign here, your stars will immediately align with Charlie's. You… You have to sign… Please." I took the pen without hesitation and signed my name. As I finished the final stroke and lifted my gaze, I met Adrian's venomous gaze. I could see it clearly now—the signs of his decline were written on his face, darker and more defined than ever before. "Claire… Milton… You bitch, how dare you betray me!" he roared. He was about to lunge at me when his body suddenly froze. He clutched his chest, and his face contorted in agony. Then, he coughed up a torrent of crimson blood.

The kind of look that could peel paint from walls. “Why is it that you haven’t seen Mom and Dad in over ten years, yet they still can’t stop thinking about you?” Her voice was low and bitter. The resentment in her words clung to the air like acrid smoke. Her fingers clenched around the edge of the vanity, the muscles in her forearms tightening visibly. Her reflection stared back at her, calm yet poisonous. It didn’t blink. It didn’t flinch. It just mirrored her fury with a composed cruelty. The fury beneath her skin was palpable. It sat in her chest like a furnace, hot and constant.

Every breath. How cruel.

It would be embarrassing for her if she trips and everyone notices. Rojean nodded her head, swallowing the lump in her throat as she tried her best not to look scared even if she was petrified on the inside. ‘This is the underground industry I’ve heard of.’ she thought to herself whilst she fixed the mask on her face. ‘Black market? Drugs? Sei’s involved with the people here?’ “You’re doing good.” said Krister who was trying to make her less nervous. “Back straight.” ‘Is it really fine that I don't talk?’ Rojean asked herself with a frown on her face as she straightened her back. She was never this posh looking in her entire life and you really couldn’t blame her for attempting and wanting t

There was this line she had highlighted, “In New York, you can talk to anyone about anything at any time and have a conversation so long you'll fall a little in love with that person, and then never see them again.” He then moved forward to find another underlined context, “I will build myself up so high in such a short time that when he leaves me, I will become a lightning storm, a nuclear apocalypse. I will not come out of this with nothing.” He read it once. Twice. And thrice. He sighed and placed the book back. He looked out of the window. The sunlight hit his face. His eyes shining brightly, giving the pure aura of brown. He then closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his hands in his pock

Her smile was carved in cold precision, lips painted the color of blood remembered. “You always did underestimate me,” Valentina said softly. “You thought fire would cleanse. But fire only transforms.” Bianca’s dagger trembled once then steadied. “You’re a ghost wearing flesh.” “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m the consequence of your unfinished sins.” Behind Valentina, shadows moved figures cloaked in crimson. Their masks were carved in the likeness of serpents devouring their own tails. The Crimson Pact is alive, reborn, and loyal to her.

“I don’t need you to look at me as if I were a stupid lost little girl.” Krimson let out a deep breath, one that seemed to be drawn from the very depths of his chest. He crouched down in front of me, until he was at my height. He didn’t try to touch me. He didn’t try to comfort me. He was just there. Present. Steady. Real. “It’s not pity I feel,” he murmured in a low voice, like restrained thunder. It’s anger, Lyra. An anger that consumes me at the sight of you trailing behind someone who never deserved you.