Las Noches Bleach Novels & Stories

"Chels, I'm standing in his bedroom wearing a robe. I'm not giving you any details—yet." "Just one, I need to know..." "I thought you'd be..." Nox said, as he entered the room. I spun toward him and pointed at the phone. "So?" Chelsea asked. "Not blue," I answered with a grin. "Oh girl. I need more." "Chels, I need to go. I'll be by our room..." Nox shook his head no as the menacing gleam I adored grew. "...or not. I'm spending most of the day with Nox."

"Don't you love me? If you don't, then why? Why have you always been so good to me?" "Because I promised your father," he stated, his voice deliberate and stern. "I have no romantic feelings for you. The only person I love is Cammy. Given the circumstances, it is best for you to be abroad." As he spoke, he took out his phone to begin the arrangements. With a sob of desperation, Chloe snatched a fruit knife from the hall table and raised it to her wrist. Jonathan moved faster, wrenching it from her grasp. The blade sliced deeply across his palm. She stared, horrified, as blood welled and dripped to the floor.

It had turned out Azelie and Nyoka had gotten into a huge fight when they hit twenty, and had never spoken to each other again nor seen each other. She hadn't had the chance to fully stab me, maybe she was too riled up, maybe a small part of her felt bad for trying to kill a five year old, maybe there was a different reason. But she had broken skin, and that area where the blade cut into my flesh became permanently scarred. Typically wolves could heal so well and so fast we didn't scar. But such was the power of wolfsbane. From that point on I avoided ever taking my shirt off around other people besides my immediate family. Even when shifting. If I did take my shirt off while shifting, I mad

“Tonight, I’m treating you both.” Chloe let out a small exclamation of disbelief. “Seriously? You’re not joking, are you?” “Seriously,” Sabrina replied firmly. “I’m not joking at all. I know you’ve both been bored of staying in the apartment for days on end. So, we’re going out tonight. We’ll drink, laugh and forget everything, even if only for a few hours.” Their destination that night was a small but lively bar. It was called The Ledger, and it had been Eirene’s favourite bar for a long time.

The connected call only carried the sounds of Jaime Walter and Derek Surrey’s pleasure. She did not seem to hear what I said. After an impatient click of her tongue, she hung up. I lowered my arms and stared at my mother’s decomposed body. My strength felt completely drained. Derek then sent me a series of messages. When I opened them, I saw videos of the two of them having sex that night. Their intimate sounds filled the room. Derek smiled in the video and asked Jaime, “You really are not giving him the miracle drug?”

An unread text from an unknown number. I blinked, trying to force my vision into focus. I swiped the screen. It was an image. High resolution, stark, and utterly silent. In the center of the frame was a man lying on a bed. He was pale, his eyes wide and milky, staring at a ceiling he would never see again. His chest was a ruin of crimson, a deep, jagged crater of blood that had soaked through his white undershirt and turned the sheets into a sodden, dark map. Buried deep in the center of that mess, right through the sternum, was a tactical knife—its black hilt protruding like a tombstone.

The black lingerie that was originally in the closet, I took after cleaning the body in the bathroom. The smell of soap residue so thick, a mixture of sandalwood and rose flowers so attached. Both my eyes looked at the lingerie in front of me; then I decided to wear it exactly at 21:00. I don't intend to leave the room after this anyway because the day has been full of activities, and tonight, I intend to go to bed early. Yes, all the lingerie fit me well. But the black color looks better and makes my skin look even fairer. I quickly put on the thigh-length outfit.