Leviathan Obey Me Fanart Hot Romane & Geschichten

Sebastian says. Leviath leans back slightly in his throne, completely at ease even though every instinct in my body is screaming that this could turn into a bloodbath in seconds. “You may leave,” he says. That makes my stomach tighten, because it sounds too easy. There is always a catch. Sebastian clearly hears it too. “And?” he asks. Leviath’s crimson eyes flick toward the artifacts. “The relics your mate has so graciously gathered,” he says. “You will hand them over before you go.”

But I was done playing nice. “You must cringe when you look in the mirror. No man or woman should want you. And God knows what blackmail you use on those girls who do.” Leonardo stood. “Okay, enough. Arya, let’s go.” Arya looked back at me but didn’t fight him this time. “You guys should let it go. It’s too early for this.” And then they were gone. It was just me and him. Rob sat back down slowly. “The only blackmail I use is how good I am at pleasing them. Something you’d never understand.”

“That’s how you greet family now? You haven’t seen me in over a year. I expected a welcome party. But instead, I hear you almost choked my mother to death…and now you’re manhandling council members. Careful, Adrian. Keep this up and I might have to contend for the throne.” Adrian. So that’s Mr Fangs’ name. I hate the king, but this Levi guy? Next-level creepy. Like a used-car salesman who moonlights as a serial killer. “Is that a threat, Levi?” Adrian growled. “No, no, of course not, your majesty.” Levi’s eyes slid to me again, dark and hungry, like he was picturing me in less clothing. “For some reason, your young bride looks… different. More appealing. More ravishing, even sexier—”

He keep on calling her name —full of hatred. Who is this man? Who is Cloud Levithan? Why is he doing this to me now? Many more questions entered her mind but she could not go through them one by one when she felt very dizzy. "I'm not Cloud. My name is Yngrid. Stop it! Please stop me..." Her mind groaned before her vision completely darkened.

Dare. Right. Maybe it’s the tequila finally kicking in or the painful new shoes or the fact that my skin is itchy as hell and probably beet red as well underneath the mohair, but something insane hits, and I give him my own Miss American wave—only it’s really a one-finger salute. It’s a whole new level of juvenile, completely childish and revealing. I’m bitter, it screams. I hate you is scrawled across my face. Same is what he’s thinking if the tightening of his lips is anything to go on