Hellhound Oc Maker Novels & Stories

His spirit flew out of his mouth, when the balloon bounced him back and forth, getting sucked somewhere in a black hole, and found himself sitting in a moving car, coming out of the parking lot. He shakened out the dizzy spell and saw they were out of the hotel already. “How are you feeling? It's a pleasure to meet you again, Shaun the Casanova” “Fuck, Arghhhhh my insides are swirling! I'm going to vomit!” The magic word frightened Rikko. As the car stopped immediately, letting Shaun ran out. After sometime, Shaun came back, wiping his mouth. “Feeling better?” “Better. Let's do this fast, here are the coordinates from my satellite, where my Omega is”

It always wants to go ahead and tear her. Selina smiled proudly. She reached out and stroked the large wolf fur beside her. It has smooth black fur, and its yellow eyes are somewhat cold, but when being rubbed by Selina, it retracts its combative evil. "Windy, you take care of her." “Guru!” After a loud howl, only the gray-haired wolf named Windy was relieved to use his sharp claws to kill Orla. Orla only had time to scream, and then there was silence.

A dent on the concrete wall behind Nolani looked as if a giant had landed a punch into it. Eyes glowing jade, pearl white fangs protruded as though she’s ready to bite, validated the reality of my situation. Nolani is a vampire gazing at me hungrily as she struggles with Henry’s restraints. “Nolani,” growled Henry, a warning. He had his back on me. It’s safe to assume that he isn’t human to hold down an agitated predator like that. “She… she smells so good,” she grunted, fighting off something similar to the despair of resistance.

I peeled my eyes away from the engraving and up to her. Mira frowned, pushing the magnifying glass away from us all," it's the mark of a hellhound. Whoever this G.K. is either knew high magick or somebody who did in order to make this. It's a teleportation necklace. To where? No clue. Probably to whoever made this."

We cleared the room of all none essentials, cleared the tables too, and all furniture that could be in the way, in case of an attack, or anything that could go wrong. I had a ceremonial obsidian knife that I lend the Hellhound. “Break it and I’ll be really pissed,” I told him. It was a genuine article, really hard to find, historical, and it had been used in magic ceremonies for centuries by all sorts of wizards. The kind of magic it had absorbed throughout its existence was significant. It could give him an edge if the Other attacked. Giving him a chance to do something. That simple gesture seemed to have made a big difference with him.