Novel & Cerita Gregor The Overlander Book 6

Several Elves were tying up the sleeping vampire warriors and hauling them out to a dungeon. Suddenly, the ground shook, it felt like an earthquake, and one that made everything fall around it. The air had a putrid smell like barf mixed with feces. I look over at Nicolas, who mind links me, saying, "Oh Crap! Trolls and Goblins”

The driver turned to look at him. “Can you please help me get my things out of the boot?” The driver cast a quick glance at Sarah, hesitated then stepped out. He walked smartly to the boot and some seconds later, Harold's luggage was on the pavement. Max, too, stepped out of the car and got his luggage from the boot. Mr. Travis hurried to the car when that was done. “Max,” Sarah called to her son. The young werewolf who had a fine build walked to the side of the car his mother was in.

My dragon whimpered in pain too, and suddenly I felt ashamed so I turned my head to stare out the window. It is as they say, the truth will hurt. He and I are still strangers even if we share the same blood. But I won’t give up on Syria, my dragon is telling me to protect her and Brock had hurt her somehow. I will get through Brock whether he likes it or not. The drive back to the Cruelcrest Hounds Pack took almost five hours. Syria had fallen asleep in the backseat and Brock had just pulled up the car in front of Hunter’s house.

He assured her. Hunter roared the engine to life as Draken's men cleared the road—Draken's car along with three Fortuners were right behind Hunter's car. They reached the North Pack safely. Aurora was sick and it was related to her being a hybrid. She often goes through this pain but this time it wasn't that severe thanks to her wolf. Hunter stayed there with Aurora for a while but he couldn't bring his mind to rest. "You should get yourself treated," Draken said, noticing blood on Hunter's back. Hunter shook his head. Getting himself treated was the last thing on his mind.

Magic wrapped around me like armor—silver and electric blue—dancing over my skin like lightning on silk. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have to. The Queen’s presence alone spoke volumes. And then— Gregor opened his mouth. Maybe to speak. Maybe to curse me again. Maybe to beg. Who knows? Too late. Crack. His neck rolled. A sound like breaking marble. Blood scattered—warm, red, and unapologetic—spraying across the circle of stunned alphas like a warning sign from the gods. Gregor’s body slumped forward, collapsing onto the obsidian floor.

“That you need to grow up.” Conrad and Kain laugh. Conon mumbles something under his breath. I keep surveying the territory ahead of me, not wanting to be taken by surprise by the feral rogues. Their new leader, Mircea, is one of the cruelest werewolves in Europe. I shift my weight once more. My wound is a reminder of it. The wind blows, carrying the scent of feral rogues to me. I sniff the air trying to determine how far they were from us, when I catch another scent coming from the same direction.

We did sometimes turn the lights completely off in our room and search, grope, lick, and desperately ravage each other in the pitch black. We allowed ourselves the freedom to feel. To fall as hard as we needed and fly as high as possible. To feel his huge, bulging knot inside me, every full moon remained a blinding, indescribable pleasure. Completely dominated by his powerful body, at his mercy as he filled me over and over. We were in love, in defiance of the Goddess and her fucking curse. Then the war arrived. The first warning we had was Declan arriving back at the Light, shaking his head in annoyance at having to come up here yet again. But he told us about the Rogues Cal was planning to

"How did he get you? How did Malakar enslave three packs without firing a shot?" Gregor shuddered. "The Peace Summit. Three days ago at Blackwood Ridge. Malakar... he walked right in. He had the Crimson Heart or a projection of it. He activated it, and... it was like a light switch, Elara. One second, I was drinking wine; the next, I was watching myself from behind a glass wall, unable to scream." "Blackwood Ridge," I repeated. "Is that where he is?" "Yes," Gregor nodded. "He has fortified the old lodge. He has the Iron Hounds there. And Elara..."

“Well, girl. You want to learn from this old wolf?” Gregor was a werewolf? I hadn’t realized. He must be a Rogue, to be among the Warren, but I’d never heard of a healer going Rogue. I nodded, and wrote, “I want to learn. Naomi says you are the best.” “Aw, you’re gonna make me blush, girls,” Gregor said, utterly deadpan. I was fairly certain that man’s face did not know how to blush.

More, and more. End of Book 1