روايات وقصص ضمن Crossbreed Priscilla

But Saint Madeleine’s had blood in the water. And girls like Priscilla Vaughn could smell it. Priscilla was everything Dominique was on paper: rich, refined, intelligent, and ruthless in her ambitions. But unlike Dominique, Priscilla didn’t wear a mask—she wore a mirror. She reflected whatever people wanted from her, whether that was sweetness, sarcasm, or the ability to drop someone’s social standing with a single fake rumor. She’d always respected Dominique. Even feared her a little. Until now.

Third Person's POV Priscilla's nose was already beaded with fine sweat, and with a "thud," she knelt on the ground, "Mr. Madox, Mrs. Madox, spare my life, please. I was just confused for a moment! Someone contacted me, offering me two hundred thousand to observe whether Mr. Madox is disabled, and I was bewitched." Brent conducted a search and retrieved Priscilla's phone, handing it over to Zoey.

"I totally understand. You are...a very busy person." "Thanks for understanding, Bryan." He tapped his shoulder, "I'll see you on Monday." Charles turned. Bryan watched him rush outside the gate, and until he entered into the Lamborghini. "He's not coming, is he?" Bryan turned to the voice. It's Priscilla Moore, a tall (maybe 6ft) goddess with long silky curly blonde hair, dressed in a branded black dress, with black boots. This sexy chick was a popular elite model, that would appear on the front page of every magazine, and she was known for being an international netball player. Next to her stood Taylor Rosecratzy, pretty girl in campus, although not necessarily in an obvious way. She ha

Priscillia had always wanted power. She knew that it was the only thing that kept her at the top of the food chain. She had been born into a royal werewolf family and had been forced into an arranged marriage due to her family owing a vast amount of money to the Moon Valley family of werewolves. She never saw her father or mother again after the marriage. Debts had crippled them so badly they had killed themselves. Then it got worse. Moon Valley got invaded and Priscilia’s Alpha died in the attack.

It was hard to believe that Brent had kids, no, it was impossible. “Girl, I'm not kidding, these kids are direct replicas of him and just because I knew you wouldn't believe me, I took pictures of them together.” She said and I got another notification of a message. I opened the message and truly, it was Brent smiling to two kids who look so much like him and….Hold on! Priscilla? These kids looked so much like her that just one look at them reminded me of her ugly ass face. She had kids for Brent? How? When? Where?

Now when she finally had some dirt on Lana, Priscilla did not hold back from misusing it. She flipped her hair and headed towards the classroom. Using her sibgen powers Priscilla had an upper hand in not being caught. However, for some reason she kept the recording of step-sister revelation hidden. Instead posted the restroom prank. Priscilla had something big and evil ongoing in her mind.

Jennifer leaned closer, her voice laced with smug satisfaction. "Sophia, you're not actually mad, are you? I didn't expect things to turn out like this. I was just casually chatting with them, and they all fell for me. That's not my fault, is it?" Lucy nodded along. "Of course it's not your fault. It just means you're charming. Not like some girl who thinks being a Principessa means every man in the world will fall at her feet." Lucy and Annie exchanged a knowing glance, smiling to each other.

My yellow eyes burned with intensity, showing just how serious I was. "I see. What makes this case the more troublesome is the fact that an elfgon has been paired with a werewolf. The Goddess must have pulled a shitload of strings to make that happen. This pairing is not something to be dismissed so easily, Keres. Unless your sweetheart has wolf in her DNA as well? Then that would make more sense." "No, she is a halfblood, part elfgon, and part human."

Her mother clung to her knees, howling like an animal, while Linda held onto her granddaughter, continuing to repeat the mantra, "No, no, no..." Over ten minutes passed with the three generations of women embracing. They kissed each other on the cheeks, on the forehead, on the neck, and Linda now changed her vocabulary and replaced it with, "My little girl, my child, my baby." The friends said nothing; only Paco didn't cry. Absolutely everyone else cried while observing the women embracing. Priscilla was forty-two years old and resembled her mother greatly. Her hair was short and close to her scalp, and she had big light brown eyes. She was slim, taller than her grandmother and mother, and j