Ingrid Galatea นิยาย & เรื่องราว

"A fu—" "I'm done with this conversation." Galene released her crumpled napkin. "Time for a walk." Stralath still spoke with the three women, and Galene focused on her career, pausing to chat with influencers in the art field as the lawns filled with crowds. Some were welcoming; others snubbed her efforts. Galene wound around the celebrity cliques drawing closer to the pool to avoid tipsy guests. Her heart rate picked up as she eyed the water. Stralath drew closer, his lips drew upward, and she returned his smile. And then her world slowed.

Lianna: The coolness of the balm seeped into my skin, dulling the persistent ache in my knee. Ingrid’s fingers worked in slow, circular motions, as she massaged. The minty scent of menthol filled the air, mixing with the faint fragrance of chamomile from the tea she had made earlier. It was almost comforting. “You know,” Ingrid muttered, her voice tight with irritation, “Edward has actually gone too far this time.”

Ronan’s POV My mother’s gaze snapped towards Ingrid’s face. Ingrid’s eyes were half-open, unfocused, her breath shallow. For the first time, Ingrid looked small. And I hated that my mind still found room to think: This is the woman who wanted to purge my mate. Now she lay half-dead, leg gone, because she had underestimated the world beyond her politics.

If this mask is taken off, even if it is now recognized that the national goddess who is out of the circle by her appearance, I am afraid that she will have to stand aside! Ingrid Zorion didn't know the depression in the makeup artist's heart, she listened to the discussion of everyone in the team, and hooked her lips with some pride. This piece of jade is what she likes, no one wants to rob her! "Lady Sasha, what you want has arrived." At this moment, the assistant in Ingrid Zorion's team walked in from outside with two food boxes. "Give it to me." Ingrid Zorion immediately took the food box from the assistant's hand and walked in the direction of Edward.

He is known for that reputation. On the other hand, Athena didn’t know how to feel about the man slurping her like a tub of vanilla ice cream. Why wouldn’t he? To him, she is sweeter than that. Her mind was mush, she couldn’t hold her legs still, she tried going back up and, as a response, he plunged her tongue into her vagina, making her arch her back and thrust her hips into the air, his snake-like tongue was making movements in her canal, artistically, precisely and beautifully.

Matteo observed her for a moment; he couldn't help but survey her from head to toe. She looked angelic, ethereal, more beautiful than ever. Her parted lips invited him to taste them. He couldn't resist; he leaned in and sucked on her lower lip like a thirsty man, his tongue tracing the edge of her mouth. Again, he whispered in a hoarse voice, "My sweet Galata!" He introduced his wet, warm, and eager tongue into her oral cavity, meeting hers, which timidly moved. Together, they danced an erotic dance to the rhythm set by the desire raging within him, with the overwhelming fury and force of a volcano.

Lance looked back at Ingrid, "Alright then, make it happen. Inez will be your personal maid. Dismiss all the other maids." I felt the anger build up inside of me as I watched Ingrid lie to Alpha Lance with a smile on her face. My mouth opened to speak, to tell him the truth, but before I could utter a single word, Ingrid pushed me back, hard. I stumbled and almost fell, but she held onto my arm tightly, digging her nails into my skin.

That she deserved more time with me—or that everybody did? Halit launches into a hymn, and my family joins her in warbling voices that pluck at something fragile in my chest. Ingrid doesn’t sing. She doesn’t even part her lips. She is still rigid, ready to explode. I wish she would yell. It would break the rhythm of Halit’s dreary recitations, the percussion of Mother’s sobs. Upset the delicate balance within the temple, and reveal what everyone has been hiding underneath. As I watch the curls of her golden hair quiver, barely trapped in jeweled combs, I think I understand why the Goddess brought her to me for the first time. Ingrid is all passion and movement–a wick about to be lit.

She answered with a smile. “You know, my dear Accashia… the former Luna — the Queen Galathea could see souls too.” Luntian said with a smile as she served a big bowl of rabbit stew in front of Accashia. The young woman was delighted with such a savory scent. She let out a sound of delight and grabbed the bowl though it’s still hot. As she blows on the hot stew, Accashia said, “Galathea is the name of Calleb’s mother, right? And… she can see souls too?”

Ingrid reclined slowly in her chair, a nearly playful smile on her lips, yet the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “Mean? Oh, nothing at all, dear,” she responded smoothly, stirring her tea as though discussing the weather. “I was merely remarking on how unpredictable life can be. A man steps out strong in the morning, and sometimes…” She cocked her head, letting her gaze rest coldly on Tatiana, “…he never comes back the same. Or doesn’t return at all. Like my late brother-in-law and his wife.” Tatiana’s breath caught sharply. “Please—please don’t say such things, Ma’am Ingrid,” Brenda interjected sharply, her voice shaking with emotion. She grasped Tatiana’s shoulder firmly, as if to stea