Gothic Oc Mga Nobela at Kwento

"How dare you attack me, your future alpha, you poor bitch, you poor and useless wolf-less omega. How dare you lay your filthy hands on me?" Lucas said, coming towards her with full force. Taking her as if she was worth nothing, he flung her to the wall, watching as she hissed in pain. Her body came in contact with the wall, causing a crack of bone to be heard in the room. She must have broken two or more bones in her. She stood up. Her legs were so weak. She walked back to the wall as she saw the demon walking towards her. Her heart beat at every step he took, his dangerous demeanor increasing seconds after seconds. Who knew what demon the alpha's son possessed in him?

Owen asks her to divert her attention away from Olivia. “Oh, were they a nice touch or were they a bit too much?” Taylor gestures to the tale across the room. “I don't know if you noticed this or not but I kind of like gothic era things. Red, black and gold are my favorite colors. Dracula, vampires, murder, death and blood.. I love it. Serial killer and demented minds, God, I cut my teeth on them! That is why you appealed to me so much!”

Goth has green eyes, blond straight long hair that was tied into a ponytail, he wore a white T-shirt with blue denim and was very muscular build. Carolyne tilted her head as she flicked her hair over her shoulder. She slowly stood up and reached her hand out towards Goth. “Hey Goth, I'm Carolyne, Amore's best friend. We will be seeing each other a lot.” Carolyne said in a flirtatious voice. Goth took Carolyne's hand and gave it a little shake. He let go of her hand but didn't pay her any further attention. “Carolyne, aren't you spaying on James and Caity today?”Nathan asked as he looked at Carolyne's flirtatious behavior towards Goth.

The last bit of warmth that I saw in his eyes has disappeared now. My heart skipped a bit as he said tightly clenching my waist, "Sono Imogen Mcmaster, il Don degli inferi. Quale qualifica hai per minacciarmi? So come ottenere ciò che è mio. Lascia ora la sua mano. Odio le altre persone che toccano le mie cose. (I am Imogen Mcmaster, the Don of the underworld. What qualifications do you have to threaten me? I know how to get what's mine )"

The tongue of the maid had been collected for insidious purposes as well. The Overlord, Jackson Forger, was a man who craved power in its rawest, most vile form. He was not content with the strength and control he already wielded; he sought more, always more. The rituals he performed in the dead of night were not mere performances of dark magic but acts of pure, unadulterated evil. The blood, the organs, the sacrifices—each element was meticulously chosen for its significance in his twisted pursuit of dominance.

Gina's dagger flashed in the dim light of the ruins, its blade etched with the same cursed runes that had plagued Autumn since the threats began. Time seemed to slow as Autumn twisted, her instincts sharpened by the newly forged bond with Gale. The silver light within her flared weakly, a protective shimmer rippling across her skin, but exhaustion from the ritual left her vulnerable. Gina's eyes burned with a fanatic gleam, her lips curled in a snarl that revealed fangs elongated by the Order's dark magic. "You stole everything from me," Gina hissed, her voice distorted, echoing the woman's earlier malice. "Nathaniel was mine—until you came along with your pathetic omega scent."

The air inside smelled heavily of old paper, dried lavender, and the sharp tang of ozone. Sitting across from us at a small, velvet covered table was Gideon, an ancient werewolf scholar whose muzzle was entirely silver and whose eyes were clouded over with thick white cataracts. Despite his total blindness, Gideon’s hands were incredibly precise. He traced the deep grooves of the symbol on the porcelain mask with his fingertips, his palms humming with a faint, localized pulse of ancient magic that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

I know my sense of smell and hearing has been heightened but it's only in this moment that I’m realising how much things have changed. The first thing I see when I hit the bottom of the stairs is Octavia or, at least, the skeletal corpse she’s going to leave behind when she takes her last breath. She’s so thin I can see her veins pressing hard against her skin. She’s got her eyes closed but her face is so sunken in her closed eyes look like large orbs sticking out of her face. I knew she was sick and knew she was dying but it's still weird seeing how her body has handled such a horrifying disease; seeing her like this is enough to make me swear off drink for the rest of my life. “She’s reall

His opened, ghostly white eyes held a permanent expression that told a story of how his final moments were. I spotted fresh blood roll down the gash, and the sharp scent of Orkan slapped my nose. The bittersweet yet overly prominent scent it held was almost impossible to ignore. Orkan had a unique smell, one that most often made the stomachs of anyone who had the luck of encountering it churn. Fuyu pushed forward, his astute eyes scanning a body while his mind pieced together a perceived detail of what his final moments must have been like. He growled in my head, urging me to move on to the next victim.

I run to the far side and looked for the campers. “Amara! My goodness!” it was Master Dante. His voice was full of concerns. “Master Dante! K-Kuya Zouli!” my tears automatically fell down endlessly. Kuya Zouli looked like he went through hell. He was leaning on the wall with his head covered with blood. His eyes were wrecked and I couldn’t take seeing him in that state any longer. “We have to hurry, Amara! Our magic will soon fade. We could no longer escape the witch if not now, especially that the Goblin is with her.”