Fantasy Gifts Blackwood Mga Nobela at Kwento

With quivering lips, she asked, “How did you get this, Dommy? You…” Dominic pursed his lips and said nothing. “Grandma, I hope you like my gift.” He looked back and spoke, “Dr. Voss, aren’t you going to wish my grandma a happy birthday?” Elara’s emotions were getting high, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. She moved forward and bowed, “Happy birthday, Madam Blackwood. May you live in peace and good health.” Kristine did not even spare her a glance. As for the gift Elara was giving her, she instructed her assistant to take it. She felt like touching it would make her feel dirty.

About something being taken— From someone who thought they held everything. Lucian stepped forward beside me. His brow furrowed. His voice calm—but confused. “What book is this?” he asked. “And how valuable is it?” The gatekeeper turned to him. His expression grave. “It is one of Blackwood’s most treasured history and sorcery books,” he said slowly. A pause. Then His voice dropped. “And its theft has brought instability to the realm.”

Dark energy pulsing. "You want to see real power?" His voice was gravel. He raised his hands. The symbols carved into walls glowed red. Pulsing with his heartbeat. Dark magic. The same corruption that let him control gifted wolves. The energy hit me like a wall. Not physical. Mental. Crushing down on my gift. "Feel it." Draven's voice was satisfaction. "Your little empathic gift is nothing." The pressure increased. My gift started to crack. Through the bond Kael screamed. Feeling my mind shatter. Unable to help.

"Just wanted some advice on gifts for the baby's one-month celebration. What would be appropriate?" "Really, the thought counts more than anything," I answered. "No need to spend much." "Well, I also wanted to share some good news! I just came from Blackwood Enterprises where I closed a new project deal!" "Congratulations," I replied flatly. "It's all thanks to our friendship, Serena! This is my first major project since returning to New York, and I was wondering..." her voice dropped to a honeyed plea, "could you maybe ask Mr. Blackwood to give me some special consideration? You know, put in a good word?"

“That’s him.” Nathan Blackwood. I recognized that face instantly. CEO of Blackwood Industries, headquartered in New York. The man was always in the news. His face was plastered all over the business magazines I loved to read. He was tall, like his cousin, Julian—handsome, with the kind of presence that commanded attention, even in a photograph. And his fiancée—Kimberly—she looked exactly like me. I swiped back to her picture with trembling fingers, my stomach twisting in confusion and disbelief.

His eyes met mine, storm and softness woven together. I turned back. “There will be no new crown. No new dynasty. No next generation of chained blood.” And then I pulled a velvet box from beneath the podium and opened it. Inside was a silver circlet. Wreathed in fire-shaped metal. Twisted. Scarred. Beautiful. “The Blackwood Crown,” I said. “Forged from the original heirloom. Melted. Recast. Not a symbol of rule. But of rebellion.” And I placed it on the podium—not my head.

Or were we doomed to pick at the cracks until everything broke beyond repair? I sat down on the edge of the couch, pulling Dominic’s shirt tighter around me as if I could shield myself from the storm. My mind raced with questions I didn’t have answers for. How had a simple job as his executive assistant turned into a battle for my heart and sanity? How had the boy who used to tease me like a sister become the man who haunted my dreams? A quiet knock on the door startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone. My pulse quickened as I opened it to find a courier holding an envelope with the Blackwood crest embossed in gold.

I always thought that mates were the only aspect of the werewolf community that I liked, having that one person who was made specifically for you, who will love and protect you for always sounded amazing, but I never for even a second thought that I’d get one myself. As I followed him deeper into the room, two boxes sat on the bed caught my attention, they weren’t there when I left for the balcony. Baron, seeing my interest in the boxes, releases my arm and walks towards the bed taking the first box in his hands. “This is what I sorted while you were having some fresh air, once I saw the magnificent photo you were able to create and the story you told me of how much you like drawing due to y

“Draven?” I froze. From inside the packhouse, Ms. Blackwood appeared, her perfect hair gleaming under the sunlight. She was wearing one of those fitted dresses that showed every curve, her lips painted a deep shade of red that matched her sharp smile. And in her arms, she carried a bouquet of roses, roses meant for him, no doubt. Jealousy twisted in my chest before I could stop it. Draven turned slightly as she approached, but his eyes didn’t leave me. Ms. Blackwood’s gaze flicked from me to the child, confusion and something sharper—something crueler—flashing across her face.