Hope Mikaelson Aesthetic Novels & Stories

He grabs my hand and forces me to follow him down another white-washed hallway, and through a pair of doors. “Where are you taking me?” “As I said, Margo, my chef makes a killer steak. I suggest you start behaving. I would hate for us to get off on the wrong foot-paw, miss Mikaelson .” “I don't have paws,” I said loudly. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” I whispered. “Such a beauty but so very stupid to play stupid,” he clicked his tongue a few times like he was letting me know he was disappointed...with me.

The darkness in the corner behind my desk deepens—bends, not just light, but space itself—and then a shape steps effortlessly out of it. Malakai. He’s dressed impeccably in baby pink silk, the color an ironic contrast to his inherent darkness, his dark hair perfectly tied up in a half ponytail, his smile maddeningly serene and unnervingly perfect. If I didn’t know the cold, murderous truth about him, I’d genuinely mistake him for a fallen angel. “Well, well, well,” he purrs, his voice a low, musical drawl that sends shivers down my spine. “To what profound pleasure do I owe this little visit? Miss me already, little hybrid?”

My smile, though, still pure trouble. “Oh, I look dangerous,” I said, tilting my head and admiring myself. “Kael, you should be worried. I’m the pretty one now.” Kael rolled his eyes, but even he studied his reflection when Thessaly’s magic reshaped him, he had a broader nose, golden brown hair, darker skin, and eyes like storm clouds. He looked like someone who could kill you with one hand while drinking coffee with the other. “Perfect,” I said. “Now we just need fake names.”

he added. "Yes," she replied, trailing her index finger over his chest. "He's very handsome and kisses very, very well," she emphasized, unexpectedly taking the dark-haired one's lips, sucking on his lower lip slowly. She smiled with satisfaction upon hearing the stifled moan caused by her action. The brunette bit her own lips afterward, teasing him. "Is it just me, or are your pupils larger than they were a while ago, Mikaelson?" she asked, teasingly, a while later.

So I take what I can, in other ways. Not from her. Not yet. Maela is loyal. Dutiful. She understands the nature of demons, she is one. The weight of our hungers, the price of our patience. She does not question when I call for her. Does not resist when I weave illusion over her form. Glamour is a simple thing. A trick of light and perception. A mask that convinces the senses of a lie they want to believe. For a moment, in the low light of fire and shadow, the shape of her becomes something else. Pale hair where dark once fell. Soft curves where sharper lines should be. A silhouette my mind has grown accustomed to watching move through these halls.

No. Alexei Mikhalov was as perfect as they come. He was golden. Alexei was blond, tall, his face perfectly symmetrical, with cheekbones that’d give supermodels a run for their money. He stepped into the only light illuminating the port and I was bit by the beauty of his eyes. They sparkled like emeralds, glinting with malevolent delight. His heart shaped lips were curled into a chilling smile, sending shudders down my spine. Alexei Mikhalov looked like an angel, literally.

How can a monster be this handsome, come on moon goddess, why do you create them so handsome, How do you expect us to stay away and be safe if they are this handsome? Honestly, if he were just some regular dude I met at a club, I would’ve dragged him into the nearest room and fuck his brains out. But no. He just had to be Kai freaking Mikaelson. A hybrid. Half-vampire. Half-werewolf. And all kinds of terrifying. The man is basically a walking death wish with abs. And yet, somehow, my brain had the audacity to wonder: What would sex with a Mikaelson feel like?

Owen says, looking around the decorated hall below us. “Bearable.” I replied. I take note of the people in the room, dressed in their best. The room oozed of expensive fragrances and oversized egos. I hated it. But then, I caught sight of a familiar brunette hair and a red dress that hugged her figure. Mikayla Drew. Studying public relations. She has perfect grades and almost perfect everything. I have the feeling there was more to her than meets the eye. But I keep it to myself.

Break the rules and we kill you, why sugarcoat it? Before Hexton can get another word out, one of the competitors steps forward, frantically unzipping the back of her bodysuit and pulling her headpiece off revealing her face to a shocked crowd. She’s new to The Tournament and goes by the codename Azrael, named after the Angel of Death because that is exactly what she is. She prefers to give people painless deaths, allowing them to just go peacefully in their sleep. I feel perhaps Hexton invited her this year just to shake things up. The fact she gives people such painless deaths indicates an amount of compassion many of us don’t possess, which doesn’t make her suited for this type of thing a

Ana and Kenny are from the same pack, and we picked up Mak along the way. Makawee is my other roommate, and is off on a scouting mission. She is a little weird and awkward, and we love her for it. She doesn't look like a scout, she looks more like she would fit in behind a computer working on something brainy but cool. She can also move so silently that she sneaks up on me all of the time and loves to jump scare us. My wolf, Sel, loves it and never tips me off when Mak is making her sneak attacks. Mak has different colors in her hair every month, and is covered in piercings and tattoos. While Ana is beautiful in a feminine way, Mak has more of the dark alternative beauty that turns heads.