Hybrid Aria Series Novels & Stories

Aria knocked softly on the door of Liviana’s new private suite with two steaming mugs of herbal tea and a mischievous smile that said she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Big brother is buried in meetings for the next couple of hours,” Aria announced, handing over one of the mugs. The scent of chamomile and honey wafted up, comforting and warm. “Want to escape the testosterone for a bit? Just us girls. No big protective speeches, no hovering. Just... us.”

I asked, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me. Aria looked up at me, her wide eyes filled with a mixture of hope and vulnerability, and then, a genuine smile spread across her face, lighting up the room. She stuck her hand out, her fingers outstretched towards mine. "Hi," she said, her voice soft and playful. "I'm Aria."

He handed over the baby to Aurora and she shows her to them. "Behold the daughter of Uriel and Kierra. The child's name is Aria. Both Amenadiel and Azrael were bewildered and stood slack-jawed with surprise. "Never fear, she may be a hybrid child but she has a mortal body and soul. She is very much human, she is innocent and harmless as she appears," he carefully explains. "How can you tell that the hybrid child is not an abomination to the realms?" Amenadiel inquisitively asks.

I look at them with that 'don't fuck with my brain again look and spill it or I leave' glare as they gave each other a sceptical but nervous look before they let out a heavy sigh, nodding their heads to spill the beans as they both spoke. "We're not humans. We're Hybrids."

“I swear I will make whoever did this suffer slowly and painfully until he begs me to end his miserable life.” “Wow. You’re scarier.” Aira drawled. Zarah snorted. “Wait until you see her hybrid from.” “Wait a sec. She’s also a hybrid?” She looked surprised as she bounced her gaze between me and Zarah. “She’s—” “Half witch, half Lycan. I know. I was just messing with you.” She rolled her cute, small eyes. “I saw an image of a hybrid in a book.” “And?” I looked blankly at her.

“But I know you’ll prove them wrong mama. You always do.” Lydia inhaled deeply, wiping her face off and wiling the tears to stop. “I brought a new book for us to read. It’s one of my favorites.” Lydia said pulling a book out of her bag. “It’s Hybrid Aria, by Jessica Hall. This is the novel has been in print. I’ve read it multiple times online though. I remember how we use to nerd out over Twilight and I thought we could nerd out over this series together too.” Lydia made herself comfortable on the chair beside her mom’s bed as she started to read the book. She’d just finished the chapter where Aria had first met Reid in the Cafe, when her phone alarm went off.

She was not going to let them do this to her. Slowly, she stood up and turned to Merlin, ‘Mother Earth Hear your daughter call, Give me thy power It's my time to stand tall, Sun and moon I summon what's mine I am the Hybrid A Deity Divine Pure of a heart That beats so true Blessed by the Goddess I take now my Due

I strained, overwhelmed by the feeling of Aria’s fingers caressing my sensitive appendage. Siren/demon hybrids didn’t have wings. Our genes would remove things that would make it difficult to function naturally. Demon wings weren’t great for swimming, but tails didn’t cause problems. Aria froze. “Um… maybe we should just do the sealing in human form. I think we’ll have less to try and manage that way.” I looked up at her. The confident, sensual Aria had disappeared. That loss made me sad. The Aria that could have been was muted by what she’d lived through. What was she hiding and who did I have to kill for doing it?

His hand came up, hesitated, then cupped my jaw with bare, careful fingers. “May I?” he asked. Heat flooded my skin. “Yes,” I breathed. His thumb stroked along my cheekbone once, a barely‑there touch that still sent sparks racing along my nerves. “Aria Mooncrest,” he said softly. “Hybrid, princess, nightmare survivor, absolute menace when cornered. You are not a ledger. You are not compensation. You are not a broken thing we’re trying to fix. You’re…you. And we are catastrophically, gloriously, in trouble over it.”