Grand Highblood Novels & Stories

The pleasure overwhelming my senses was so strong that my mind went blank the whole time. Some time later, our ragged breathing was the only sound left in the room. When I tried to crawl over to the nightstand to grab a cigarette, my hand was already trembling violently. After sticking the cigarette between my lips, I tried lighting it up with my shaky hands but to no avail. Before I could light my cigarette, I felt my ankle getting grabbed by Julius. To make it worse, my body was still sensitive from the climax. My cigarette fell to the floor. I gripped the bedframe tightly while sobbing out, "I can't do this anymore… I don't want another round…"

My legs feel heavy, as if the black earth wants to claim them, pull me down into the same memory it holds of all the others. A wind comes up, shifting ash in slow, eddying spirals. I tighten my cloak around my shoulders and step forward, ignoring the rasp of armor at my joints. I’m not dressed for mourning, but for intimidation: a breastplate chased with gold, the sigil of my House stark on the tabard. Still, there is no one left here to fear me.

I felt the vibration of his muscles locking, coiling like high-tension cables about to snap. Viggo’s reaction was deeper. A growl started in his chest—low, subsonic. It traveled through the soles of my boots and rattled in my molars. It wasn't a sound; it was a warning frequency. The smell of ozone and burning copper spiked in the air—the scent of a Highblood on the edge of violence.