Damsel Novel Novels & Stories

It made him more aroused, anticipating what his wife was planning to do. She bit her bottom lip playfully. She had her maid secretly sneak a book into the castle a few days ago, ‘The Secrets of a Happy Bedroom’. Since the suggestion came from none other than Countess Fennels, she did not expect it to be that scandalous, but it was. Daniel’s breath hitched when Magnolia’s eyes met his. He had never seen that look before, her gaze was quite mischievous. She placed both hands on his chest and leaned closer until her lips touched his neck. He could not move, he could only watch with unblinking eyes.

I know i have done bad with people but still i would have done something good in my life so that something good happens to me but no whenever i think i will have some good time its taken from me before i even take pleasure of it . I thought i will bring my bride and i would atleast be happy for a day and show her around make her understand but no .....this jessica have to appear . Dealing with women is so hard first larib and now her .When we entered in the house she was waiting for me , some idiot from my guards told her i was coming back today .

Was author killed or was she saved like a damel in destress? Let me know by commenting, so I can wrote that short part. If not I can just skip it. Thankyou again.

Mira's POV The White Coven: The heavy wind blew across my hair as I pushed the door's handle. The chimes jiggled loudly. I stepped in and all the women stopped chanting. Their dark clothes make everything eerie. Their heads suddenly turned to look at me. I stood still and noticed her, the high priestess at the altar. She raised her head revealing her dark shoulder length hair and thick eye liner. “Mira Alexander!!!” She yelled. I shuddered at the tone of her voice. She just had to be that loud. “Yes, priestess.”

Kade headed inside to dig for information. Damon slid into the waiting car, his expression unreadable. The driver glanced back. "Where to, Your Highness?" Damon looked down at the bracelet in his hand. "Back to the palace," he murmured. "I have plans to finalize." Tomorrow, he would depart for Averelle. Tomorrow, he would meet the princess he was destined to marry. And yet… His mind drifted back to the girl with disheveled hair, trembling fingers, and a voice tinged with quiet sadness.

His hand clamped around my wrist, iron-strong, dragging me from his bed to the door and through the hall until he shoved me into my room and locked the door behind me. “I hate you, Luke Elderman!” I screamed, my voice raw. But there was no answer. Only silence. And so, when the clock struck eleven, I obeyed Desmond’s instructions. The book. The key. The blue door. The stairs. By the time I slipped past the castle walls where the darkness was thickest and I saw werewolves surround me, I knew I had fallen into a trap, into the jaws of my own destruction.

Jocelyn My mind was quiet for most of the night. My dreams peaceful ... Until three figures walked into them. Riley, Vincent and Tristan... They surrounded me, their hands reaching for me, caressing me, playing with my body. I could have sworn one of them was eating me out, but I couldn't focus on who it was. It felt so real...

“Maybe we should talk, Aiden. It’s long overdue. It’s time we settle our scores.” Aiden regarded him for a long moment, then glanced at the claws protruding from Damien’s hands. “Not with fangs and claws involved.” Damien’s lips curled into a cold smile. Slowly, he retracted the claws back into his skin. “Fine.” Aiden folded his arms. “What do you want to talk about?” “Cassia.” “You mean Amelia?” “No.” Damien’s tone hardened. “Amelia died seven years ago, the night you rejected her and cast her out. The woman you see today…she was reborn from those ashes. Her name is Cassia Wrenmoor. You should stop calling her Amelia.”

Roman's Pov The woman’s voice—soft, trembling, “Sienna… it’s me”—cut through the shack’s damp air like a blade, sharp enough to pull me back from the edge I’d been teetering on. My lips still burned where Sienna’s had been, her taste—rain, salt, her—lingering, hot and heavy, and my hand stayed on her hip, fingers dug into the denim, holding her against me like letting go would unravel me completely. She was pressed close, chest to chest, her breath ragged on my neck, and damn if it didn’t wreck me—how she’d kissed me back, hungry and raw, cracking me open in ways I hadn’t let happen in years.