Duchess Satine Kryze Novels & Stories

"Well, yes. That's for a human's perspective. But for us-a noble or a mythical creature as what human history says-it's natural. We can live for millennia and tens and hundreds of it, not aging. We can even enter eternal slumber if we want to. "But that's not always the case. Sometimes, one can enter a force eternal sleep if they committed a crime that is too grave beyond comprehension and the risk being known to the world is high or they took offense to the humankind that we're supposed to take care." -Cassielle Elise D. Dairen, the daughter of the duke, Clyde Estreno D. Dairen. The unknown duchess.

THE DUCHESS “Duchess,” Blaze’s voice appeared behind me again. I turned on my bar stool, an unimpressed look on my face as I met Blaze’s eyes. “This is Speed, my second, and Blow, my third.” “Speed and Blow,” I chuckled. “Not sure I want to know where those names came from. Hopefully it’s nice to meet you both.” I motioned towards Karma. “This is Karma, my second.” She gave her best overly-cute smile. The one that if you knew her and what she’s capable of, made her seem even more psychotic than normal.

Helena replied calmly while giving Atthy a respectful bow. "Tell me," Atthy ordered. "The noblewomen have come to meet you, Duchess," Helena answered. "To meet me? Why?" Atthy asked, still maintaining her firm stance. "They said they wish to get to know you, Duchess..." Helena replied. "Get to know me? Why?" Atthy asked again, with the same assertiveness. "Because you are the new Lady of the Skythia Duchy, effective as of yesterday..." Helena answered, standing tall herself, intentionally emphasizing the authority of her young mistress.

"Maybe she just prefers younger guys. We should have had you go to her instead. But it’s a lost deal now, so we have to think of another way. How about the Michele’s?" "They hold twelve percent and the last time we went to them—" "They wanted a bigger profit than what they’re offering." I hiss through my teeth, wondering if the world has always been so greedy. "We aren’t currently stable to buy it from them," Zack says, and I nod, drumming my fingers against the desk before I open my mouth. "How about we just lend it and then buy later?"

In the end, all ten of his fingers were crushed to splinters. "My hands! My hands! I'll never be able to play the piano again!" Caitlin ignored Shane's agonized screams and drove into the sprawling estate without so much as a backward glance. … In the great hall, two groups sat at opposite ends of the long conference table. The faces of both the Randall and the Tate family members were grave and utterly wretched. Everyone sat in awkward silence—until the sharp, rhythmic click of high heels echoed through the room. Instinctively, every member of the Tate family rose to their feet.

⇜ ♡♡♡ ⇝ LUCAS. A warm smile tugged on my lips the moment Katarina ascended to the stage with Sofia and Celeste. She had a rose gold strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline that perfectly accentuated her collarbones. All of them looked beautiful, like goddesses, but I knew in my heart that in a room full of beautiful females, no one could beat my Luna.

And though he said nothing, his stare lingered a beat too long, like he was memorizing the gesture just to hate it more later. Brittany shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t understand a word of what was happening, and worse, she knew it. At one point, Kracus turned to her suddenly. "And you. What do you do?" Brittany blinked. "I’m an influencer." Silence. Kracus sipped his vodka. "Influence what?" "I, um, create lifestyle content. Fashion. Beauty. Travel." "Ah." He nodded, slow and cold. "You sell mirrors."

"I thought you hate men?" George rolls his eyes. "Men of fashion are not men. They're arts." Krystal laughs heartily. She then pats George's shoulder. "Be careful with pedestal thing, George. Just like the song said, don't fall in love with a dreamer." She waves to George as she saunters towards the photo studio. Daunt Magazine's studio is not the best photo studio Krystal ever went to. But the utility is enough to survive the current photoshoot. Her clothing line –Hugace, read as Yugachee, not hageys, thank you very much– is littered around the studio. Hanging on the racks and dozen of staff hanging the clothes in their forearms waiting to get called, the whole studio is the kind of mess Kr