Hunger Games Aesthetic Novels & Stories

He had become so accustomed to the scent of fear that he now found himself a little thrown. He also found that he was becoming painfully hard as a raw, basic hunger surged through him, beating at his self-control. She was freakishly beautiful, beautiful in that in-your-face, sophisticated kind of way, but not just that. With her long black hair and hazel eyes, she possessed that natural, all-woman, all-real beauty that was dabbling with his mind. And although she was slender, she was blessed with mouth-watering curves that had all sorts of fantasies playing around in his head.

"We've got a new face." Four heads turned. Gia was the first to rise. Her beauty was loud—curves wrapped in crimson velvet, with hair like molten gold and a mouth made for trouble. She moved like fire, slow and consuming, and her gaze skimmed over Aurora like a critic judging a rare gem. Kim and Ariana followed. Ariana wore rhinestones on her collarbone like armor, her cheekbones sharp enough to slice. Kim was quieter, darker, with a gaze that could flay a man alive or lull him into a dream.

“I am a function of aesthetic efficiency. Your territory has become a noisy subplot. I am here to quiet it down. To make it… readable.” It gestured with its stylus. From its book, a beam of flat, white light shot out and touched our cottage wall. Where it touched, the texture of the wood—the grain, the knots, the subtle variations in color—smoothed out into a featureless, beige plane. It wasn't erased; it was genericized. This was the worst invasion yet. They weren't trying to destroy or control. They were trying to make us boring. “Over my dead, highly specific body,” I snarled, lightning crackling at my fingertips.

” I exclaimed. Her eyes widened as she started to understand what I was talking about. “You said so yourself. We're just fun to them. What if the only reason they want us to get in is to provide entertainment for the Elites?” “Then, none of us are safe, are we? All fifteen subs who got in this year are just prey.” I said. She shook her head in disbelief. “It's like the squid games or the hunger games.” She said breathlessly. “Except there's no winner in these games!” I exclaimed.

Only the one who looked scared, helpless, yet strong, and disgustingly pretty that he had almost broken into the dungeon bars and pinned her down earlier could satiate this hunger that he couldn’t explain. A mate he wasn’t willing to claim, but her body, he wanted. “Leave, Athena. I’m hungry to kill. Don’t fall victim.”

"LONG LIVE THE LYCAN KING!!!" Normally I'd bask in that. Usually I'd grin, throw a wave, maybe flex a few muscles for dramatic effect. But not this time. Not when the image of a girl with messy, midnight hair and stubbornly bright yellow eyes kept elbowing its way into the front of my brain like she owned the place. Nyx. Filthy as hell, bruised, starving, shoved in an attic like a shameful secret—and still beautiful. Not the dainty, polished noble beauty. No. She had the kind of beauty that survives fires and walks out of explosions.

An area of pale, enticing skin was left distressingly uncovered by the profound vee neck area, to some degree clouded by the sparkling loot of stout brilliant jewelry. My wolf damn close redlined at seeing our mate's exposed, exquisite throat essentially asking to be set apart by the rapacious scratch of teeth and twirling guarantee of a tongue. A particular snarl thundered free before I could contain it completely. Athena alarmed me imperceptibly, pinging me with the infiltrating chill of those cold blue eyes. I watched her chest hitch vaguely as a weak flush stained those other-worldly cheekbones. However, she emanated that equivalent glorious, Distant balance that persistently pushed me t

Hale studied the gown silently for a long moment. Then his expression softened with something that looked almost sad. “You’re adjusting faster than I expected.” A bitter laugh escaped me. “Adjusting?” I repeated. “I’m surviving. There’s a difference.” The room fell quiet again. I reached for my sketchbook and flipped through several pages before stopping abruptly. One design in particular made my stomach twist. Dark colors, sharp edges with dangerous elegance. Without meaning to, I had designed something inspired by Dante. Powerful, seductive and terrifying.

Chapter five Atlas POV I didn’t expect the girl to be that pretty, yet here she was even in her grief shining in her beauty. Her soft hazel eyes looked vulnerable and her lips were chapped and in a thin line every time I stepped inside the room to give her food to eat. She looked like she’ll rather be anywhere and I made the off comment about seeing the gardens if she ate her food.