Eyes Of The Emperor Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

) He raised a curious brow as he took one of the books and stepped toward the window for a better spot to read. (... This book doesn't have any title?) He slowly opened the dark brown covered book without title and read every pages carefully. However, he quickly realized what kind of book he was holding. (It's a diary!) There's a date and descriptions of what she did on that specific date, which surprised Oliver as he carefully went through the pages. (... what in the world...) 12 August *** Today, I was officially married to the Emperor and I was crowned as the Empress—

I looked up. His crimson eyes were on her. Directly this time — not peripheral, not the passing survey of the corridor inspection. Looking at me with the full weight of the Emperor's attention, which was the kind of attention that could silence a room of generals, that could make grown men of military rank speak carefully and choose words like they were choosing weapons. I held his gaze.

Fragile, even. My chest contracts in a way that pisses me off. Her eyes lift and find mine. Blue meeting blue. The chapel disappears. For a second, it’s just us. She’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes a man angry about it. My jaw ticks. My mouth goes dry. “I shouldn’t want her,” I mutter under my breath. Valerio hears. He always does. His lips twitch into a smirk. “Careful, amico,” he murmurs without turning his head. “Someone might think you’re human.”

The black sails loomed over them like the wings of a crow. "Welcome home, Prince Noah," Valerius said. He reached out a hand to help Noah up. Noah didn't take it. He grabbed the rope ladder and started to climb, pulling Ethan up behind him. They reached the deck. A hundred Southern soldiers stood in perfect formation. At the end of the line was a man in purple silk. He had Noah’s eyes. He had Noah’s jaw. The Emperor. "You look terrible," the Emperor said. He didn't move. He didn't embrace him. He just looked at the blood and the leather.

The old woman just smile but didn't answer to her question, instead she looked at the Emperor who has a sad expression glint on his eyes but immediately disappeared and replace it with an emotionless face. END OF CHAPTER 15 END OF CHAPTER 15

She is not alone. She turns around and finds the Emperor sitting on a chair, he is still in his gold armour but Kiara notices that this one is different, shinier. Up close she can see his features, they are strong, yet somehow delicate at the same time. High cheek bones and a strong jawline, yet he has thin brows that are barely there, a long straight nose and lips that are the shape of bows. Kiara makes the mistake of meeting his gaze, his eyes are hard and cold, there is not a flicker of emotion within them.

His Majesty noticed him with his powerful eyes, but getting through the dense grass to where he was was a problem. His Majesty was perplexed, unsure of what to do. Something compelled him to spin around, and he landed on the Emperor's face. He only cut his head once with his bully sword. But he waited. His Majesty turned, and the sword slashed the emperor's head once more. The sword's strength allows it to block the force that emanates from the eyes. After the eyes had been lowered His Majesty assumed the helm, and the Emperor of the Indocontinent touched the building's walls and apeared in the next chamber at breakneck speed.

Why would the male leads need air conditioners if they could always have cold air around them? Tch! If they must make someone evil, it should be someone who could pretend that they were extremely good instead of the 'obvious' characteristics that marked them evil from the beginning? The only thing that I appreciated was the author's imagination. The emperor was indeed a looker. My stomach was a dance floor for both butterflies and rats. It was difficult to keep a straight face in front of a fine man with sculpted features and a gaze that had my inside floored. The only thing that lacked in his bedroom eyes was emotions.

He looked like a dark god, cut from pale marble and left to breathe. The Vampire Emperor wore a tailored suit in charcoal and crimson. His hair was raven-black, his eyes, not that bright feral ruby my soldiers had, but a deep abyssal maroon. He didn’t sneer or play at being cruel. He didn’t need to. He just radiated an ancient, suffocating calm, way more terrifying than the Prince’s loud explosive temper. He didn’t have to shout over the wind. He spoke straight into my mind. You wield the fire of the earth, little Luna, the Emperor’s voice pressed in, cold and smooth as polished glass. But fire cannot burn a vacuum. If your ghost-ships touch my blood-barrier, your entire armada will be atomi