Halls Of The Blood King Novelas e Histórias

No past. When they waved me forward, my pulse stuttered. Inside, the air was colder — scented faintly with metal and cedar. Gold light washed over marble floors that seemed too perfect to walk on. And at the far end of the grand hall, seated on a raised platform like a throne of glass and iron, was him. Nikolai Kael Volkov. The Lycan King. The ruthless god of the new age. He didn’t just sit there. He commanded the air itself. Every person in the room seemed smaller near him — shadows shrinking under a storm.

I was shocked to the core; I ran my fingers through my hair and went up to change for the baby home coming party. I stood under the hot water of the shower and the flashes of my teary mate kept coming to mind, I was the one that started all this, I should have just been honest with her; why was I so afraid that she would not accept the monster I had become. I got out and put on my white shirt, not putting my buttons up all the way and navy blue suit pants; I looked in the mirror and my eyes were red from crying in the shower, I combed my hair into a pompadour and put on some cologne; tonight I would make Athena fall in love with me again and I will claim her. She is mine and mine only; I wil

She knew he heard her footsteps, what with his super hearing, but he gave the semblance of normality so she too pretended. And the first rule of pretentiousness never shows your ignorance. Hence Willow waited patiently, scanning the garage, her eyes lapping on any potential weapons in the vicinity. "Are you Billy Jones?" The hulk asked after a few minutes. Willow hides her triumph smile. They always crack. But then what he asked penetrated into her mind. Billy Jones? Seriously, Reagan? Instead of asserting, Willow questioned, "who is asking?" "King" Right. I'm as much of Billy Jones as he is king. Though Reagan said his name is Dane. He is a good-looking vampire, there is no doubt about it.

It was then that I noticed that The King's eyes are bright red just like his; he manages to get on top of the second, sinking his fangs into the second's neck, taking two deep draws and then ripping out his throat with his fangs. The power that flows out from the king in waves tells me that we have just lost him to bloodlust and he is now a very powerful rogue unless I can take him down quickly, the other rogues retreated as soon as they felt the first wave of power. I struggle to my feet and then take him down while he is still kneeling over the second's body. I extend my claws and as much as I don't want to do it; I swipe them across his throat, killing him instantly.

Right on cue, the menace himself appears. Luca Antonetti saunters into the booth, his black silk shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, a gorgeous blonde laughing at something he whispers into her ear. He drops onto the leather sofa and drapes an arm over the girl's shoulders, as he flashes us his signature, shameless grin. He’s the definitive black sheep of a multi-billion-dollar wine empire, a playboy who weaponizes his charm to mask a lethally sharp business mind. "Dull faces, gentlemen. Absolutely tragic dull faces," Luca scolds, waving a hand toward the crowd below. "Look around! The press is eating it up. The liquor is flowing. I am officially the king of the Meatpacking District."

The man connected to the debt threatening her family. For the first time, she realized their lives had been moving toward something unavoidable. Something dangerous. And somewhere far beyond Briar Hollow, within the halls of an ancient castle, the First Blood Vampire sat upon his throne. Before him rested a report. A report concerning one girl. One hybrid. One future bride. The vampire king slowly closed the document. A faint smile appeared on his lips. "The time is approaching." His crimson eyes glowed in the darkness. Outside his castle, thunder roared across the night sky.

I pressed myself against the wall and peered around the corner. There was a chamber. It was a small one and in the center was a sigil carved into the stone floor. It had the shape of a thorned wolf biting its own tail. Five cloaked figures knelt around the sigil and their faces were hidden by hoods. Elder Ronan stood among them as I held my breath and listened. "The first blood is taken," one of the voices said. "The next must be royal." My heart almost stopped. Royal? Another voice answered. "The king dies tomorrow at dawn."

Emma The hall froze in disbelief. Shock rippled through the crowd like a powerful wave. The man who once stood as the voice of the throne now lay decapitated at the feet of the King he had served. Blood trailed from the corpse in slow, winding paths, reaching the edges of the crowd that instinctively stepped back without a word. The Lycan King remained still. His posture never shifted. His hand, soaked in blood, rested at his side as if nothing had changed. Not even the warmth of fresh blood on his skin drew a reaction from him. His face stayed unreadable, his expression as still as stone.

Darius moved instantly, steadying me before I could stumble. The bond flooded immediately with concern so intense it nearly hurt. I grabbed his arm automatically. Needing something solid. Something real. The King watched the interaction silently. Then his expression hardened. “The Blood Crescent is hunting her because they know what she is.” My stomach dropped violently. No. No no no. “What are you talking about?” The King looked directly into my eyes. And answered with terrifying calm. “You carry royal blood.” Silence. Complete silence. Then, i laughed , actually laughed.

she didn't know why she called him when she can call for Esee or Csal who were both no where since the celebration began. She didn't know if it was her senses failing when the burden of weight on her back seemed to become lighter. But when she looked up, lights embraced everywhere while the beast was thrown up in a distance that it slid in the large hallway. In almost weak state she saw how the king had effortlessly tear a reptilian creature in half while his eyes in pitch black. Green bloods from the creature dripped from the severed flesh on the king's hands while he let go of those in the floor, slowly sauntering towards her direction in blank face. As if he intended to kill her too.