Diane Foxington Crimson Paw Novels & Stories

"And the Ghost is born. Are you certain about this, Agent? Once you step through those gates, the Bureau cannot pull you out. You are officially an unregistered rogue." "I’ve been a ghost for ten years," Dante replied, his eyes tracing the silhouette of his mother’s face on a burning photograph before it turned to cinder. "Is the Vanni introduction set?" "It is. Enzo 'The Cleaver' Vanni is bleeding thirty million dollars a week because the Marcone family is raiding his northern supply lines. He’s desperate, paranoid, and looking for unlisted muscle. But he will test you, Dante. He’ll want to see if you bleed blue or crimson."

Once I sat engaged and waiting I heard a martyred, extrajudicial sentencing Death - tormentor of my dreams Deep into that darkness sanctioning 'Death!' said I, 'thing of demise.' I awoke and flung the grief My passion is the parched necrosis 'Death!' chuckled I, 'Yes Death!' ~~Theodora Twitty <><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><> Scarlett

The collar still in her hands. She turns it over and over like it might disappear. After a minute she stands, her fingers hook under the hem of the short silk dress. She pulls it over her head and she is naked, from head to toe. My thoughts wonder. I know I did not let her wear a bra but panties??? The camera catches everything. The fresh Morozov wolf burned into her inner thigh is red, swollen, beautiful. She walks to the bathroom, more like she is limping which is actually from the burn of the brand. I should check it later.

A recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

The candles went out. Author’s Note - The Crimson Veil began as a late-night idea about what might happen if logic met temptation in its purest, most dangerous form. Evelyn’s curiosity is my own: the need to understand what we fear, even when it leads us somewhere we can’t easily return from. This story mixes gothic atmosphere, mystery, and forbidden connection—a slow burn between intellect and instinct. Every chapter was written and refined by hand, inspired by old literature and the darker side of human emotion.

Alpha Scott gestured for us to come over Dean and I walked slowly until we stopped right in front of them, the female still had her back to us Alpha Scott cleared his throat "Priestess Anya, I'd like you to meet Alpha Greyson of the Crimson Claw pack" The female slowly turned around until my eyes met the prettiest shade of green that were her eyes. She had a certain classic beauty that was rare and unique, her skin was pale and spotless, her nose a perfect fit for her face and then her small pink lips

Christine said. Azrael felt shivers running down her spine. But one question was still lingering in her mind despite of not taking in every realizations she just discovered. “Where-- how did you get this?” she asked. Christine looked at the Luna as if she asked the wrong question. Or as if the answer was already obvious. It was clear to see that she used her spells but the witch knew she had to explain. “The moment the Crimson Crest pack was attacked, I immediately thought of the Crescent Bow…” Christine started and mumbled a spell that made her look normal without the tiara and the princess dress.

Their youthful and kind image not gone just because of their ignorance. This could be quite a show. “It seems to me that the two of you still has the audacity to talk rubbish about the future bride of the Young Master of the Valencia household. Tell me, if Antony were to be with me right now, would you still make claims such as this one? When you yourself are not even wearing clothes of the same season, your top is featured in La Voule’s summer edition, but your skirt is from the spring breeze edition of Cheton Apparel? With such set up, you dare come to me speaking of such?” Crystal clicked her tongue slightly as her eyes keenly gazed on Dianne, then at Janice, distaste was painted all over

An overwhelming sensation runs through my veins, as the dormant desire to monopolize someone stirs in me dangerously. I clench my fists hard, trying to win over my instincts. “Lorcan? What's wrong with you?” I hear Dylan’s voice that’s contoured with worry. “Open your eyes, Lorcan,” Orlo says, putting his hand on my clenched fist. I open my eyes and look at them while breathing is ragged. Dylan’s eyes widen and Orlo flinches. “Your eyes turned bright red!" Orlo exclaims. They already turned bright red?!

The Fourteenth of April was the 'Crimson Paw Ask A Question Day.' This occurrence was held yearly where people within Crimson Paw questioned the royal Alpha family, be it plain, brutal, or even hair-rising. One of Ophelia's most dreadful days because she was always questioned about her inability to conceive a child. Always indirectly insulted and the old Finlay would chuckle or snicker in his seat because he found the pained look on her face amusing. Except this time, Ophelia knew things would be different.