Gothic Lines Novels & Stories

We are still trying to find an I telecom to buzz when the gates swing open of their own accord. “Well, that is not creepy at all,” Lucas murmurs from the back. “You were the one who wanted to rush here, remember?” I retort. “Yeah, I do. So what are you waiting for? Drive.” As we drive through the creepy looking, gothic gates, I can't help but feel a shiver dance down my spine. They're towering and wrought iron, with intricate designs that seem to twist and contort like they're alive. The entrance path ahead is like something out of a fantasy novel, winding and turning sharply as it disappears into a dense forest.

Light formed along my collarbone, faint at first then it brightened enough that I could see it through the fabric of my shirt. Lines appeared beneath my skin in pale silver curves, nothing like the wolf marks carved in their halls.They didn’t look out of place, instead they looked like they had always been there. The lines brightened once, the chanting stopped, the clearing went quiet. And I knew, without looking up, that whatever had answered was still watching.

It’s as if the bond is coming alive, tangling around us, pulling us deeper into each other, and Aphrodite is delighted in the turn of events. Rocco’s hands slide lower, his fingers brushing against the glowing lines, his tongue tracing where his fingers lead, and I gasp at the touch, a rush of pleasure flooding through me. The marking brightens and shifts, casting a soft glow that bathes the room in a warm, ethereal light. It’s intoxicating, this blend of magic and raw, physical connection, and I can feel it drawing us closer, pushing us to the edge of something that feels both ancient and entirely new.

It would be easy for me to open my mouth and accept his leaking head inside of my mouth but I also know it would be a gateway; the second I cross that line with a mark, all the lines will become blurred. "That's not happening.” I growl right back at him. I quickly snap my head round so I can start uncovering Octavia’s hiding places. I can sense Gideon’s eyes on me, but I refuse to be pulled into the web of lust he has going on. I want him; there is no denying that, but I’m a strong woman, and I can stop myself from crossing that line. Gideon will always be the best night I never had, but I think we will both be happier that we haven’t crossed that line. I can admit that I'm finding it hard t

The words withered in my throat as my gaze locked with his, entirely captive to the fierce, possessive fire that burned within his eyes. My fingers tangled desperately in the fabric of his jacket, drawing him down into the very space he sought to conquer.With a low, triumphant groan, Caleb brought his mouth down parted my lips with a ruthless force, his tongue seeking mine. He wrenched his lips from mine only to bury his face in the hollow of my neck, his teeth and tongue tracing the sensitive skin with a relentless hunger, deliberately deepening the bruises he had carved into my flesh only hours before. "Ah... Caleb, mercy," I gasped, my head falling back against the whiteboard as a violent

The nerves in my body quietly tensed. Soon, a sleek black car pulled up at the building. Thomas's eyes lit up, and he eagerly waved his hand. "Babe!" Imogen stepped out, impeccably dressed in a cream suit, cradling an enormous bouquet of roses.

And when I stepped into the hallway, the world shifted completely. Endless corridors with high arched ceilings made of dark stone. The walls were rough gray and black, adorned with ancient paintings staring from dusty frames. Thick pillars supported the towering ceilings, carved with gothic faces that looked disturbingly human. The dim light came from massive candles lodged into metal sconces along the walls—flickering, warm, yet mournful.

of its parents' love and sacrifice. "Mama! Dada! The air is turning to ice!" Kaelen shrieked, his white-and-black hair glowing with a frantic, gold-sapphire intensity. He saw the "Grey Lines" of the Merchant-Beast’s "Algorithm" coiling around his mind, seeking the "Hooks" of his memories.

The blood lines thread looked eerie and ominous, as if something dangerous was about to awaken. Something that was not meant to exist. Something that might endanger mankind if not handled well. Thunder and lightning rumbled incessantly outside the mansion, as if a storm were brewing, like it was signaling the birth of something ominous. Inside the secret room, the floating coffin, wrapped in a web of mysterious threads, became transparent, as if the threads had a life of their own, sucking the essence of the coffin into nothingness.

Pain drained the color from my face, and my whole body trembled. Seraphina kicked me in the face, so furious she looked as if she wanted to tear me to pieces. “Let me tell you this,” she shouted. “Forget toad eggs—even if Alaric told you and your parents to kneel and lick his shoes, you’d have to do it!” The slimy sensation of the toad eggs still clung to my mouth, making waves of nausea roll through me. My parents, Edward and Eleanor Blackwood, looked even worse, their faces deathly pale as they clutched the table and retched uncontrollably.