Lictorica Novels & Stories

“Of course I did. I needed to know what kind of trash was trying to claw her way into Lucian's life.” My fists clenched without me even realizing, my nails digging into my palms. I hated that she had this much of a reaction from me, this much of an effect. But you know what…. “You're pathetic.” She raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” “You're so threatened by me that you had to dig into my past to find something to use against me. That says more about you than it does about me.” Tori's eyes narrowed. "You might have gained your sight, but you're still blind if you think you're a match for Lucian. He's the Alpha of the Moonstone Pack. You're just a charity case."

Just then, someone beside her gasped, breaking the silence. “The three lycan princes!” Suddenly, something shifted within Lydia, as if she had been expecting this moment. A voice in her mind, Circe, stirred to life. “MATE,” it exclaimed, resonating with a deep longing. The aroma intensified; it was a blend of hot coffee and honey. She recognized that the scent was coming from the man in front. Without thinking, she began to walk toward him, feeling the pull of her instincts. Circe hadn’t failed her; she felt drawn to hug him and plant kisses on his cheek. But before she could reach him, the prince walked past her and scooped up Thalia in his arms. Thalia giggled as he brought her down, his b

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. The truth was right there, but fear tightened around my throat and swallowed it whole. And Damien… He hadn’t looked away once. His eyes were locked on me, sharp and unreadable. It felt like he could see through me. I was having a panic attack and I couldn't move. I wished I could disappear. After what felt like forever, I gave the smallest nod. It was all I could manage. The priest raised his arms high. “Then, by the ancient laws of the Lycan bloodline, I now pronounce you mates. May the Moon Goddess bless your union.”

With that, I crouched to the ground and turned my back on him. An ugly laugh echoed behind me. "Fine. Then I'll show you the real meaning of torture." His footsteps retreated, leaving me in the suffocating silence. A huge lump formed in my throat, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. I clutched the pendant at my throat, a desperate whisper escaping my lips. "Oh, gods of the flames, what is happening?" --- Back at the quarters, Lilith crept over to Kyra's luggage and carefully opened it, searching for the mysterious liquid. Inside, she discovered an assortment of herbs. As someone deeply familiar with such things, she immediately recognized that several were poisonous.

His wolf surged close to the surface, his voice a guttural growl. “If you ever touch me again,” he hissed, “I will tear out your throat myself.” Lilith’s nails dug into his wrist, her face flushing red, but her eyes gleamed with cruel triumph. “But she saw,” she croaked, her voice ragged. “She saw, Lucian. And she believes.” Lucian’s hand tightened once more before he hurled her aside. She hit the floor hard, coughing, the robe spilling around her as she gasped for breath.

Rita The air in the hidden wing of the library was thick with the scent of aged parchment and something deeper—magic, old and restless. Rita trailed her fingers along the spines of the grimoires, each one humming under her touch like a sleeping beast. "This one," Derek murmured, pulling a heavy tome bound in cracked leather. "It’s been calling to you since we walked in." Rita took it, the moment her skin met the cover, a shudder ran through her.

Either she could tell or just randomly associated all werewolves as wolf. “You will not disrupt what she’s doing because it’s necessary, and I’ll explain once it’s completed.” That had his wolf receding and going into the back of Niccolò’s mind to sulk after being admonished by his new mate. Niccolò, on the other hand, had a bit of blush going on that made Lilac’s eyes soften. Reika pulled back and placed her hand over the wound. It glowed a little as she tapped into her magic. The wound on Lilac’s wrist was completely healed when she pulled back.

Lucian reassured her, his voice strained with helplessness. As the marking continued, the lights in the room began to flicker uncontrollably. Outside, the sky roared with thunder, and lightning danced across the horizon. Visenya’s hair turned a bright scarlet, crackling with energy as if charged with electricity. She continued to claw at her skin, desperate to alleviate the searing pain, but Lucian gently pulled her hands away, holding them firmly in his own.

The heat from the acidic pool scorched the air, making the vitaecer sweat profusely as it dripped down his furrowed brow. Across the room, a woman with a blue teardrop tattoo, the ink swirling down from her eye and stopping just beneath her cheek, stood silently. Argent. She was a figure of serene danger, her silver hair braided tightly and falling all the way to her feet. She was clad in sleek, black armor, her nails like sharp claws, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with detached curiosity. Her eyes glimmered under the flickering candlelight, as if she found some kind of amusement in the vitaecer’s torment.

My nails elongated, and while I tried to push away, I mistakenly scratched her. She cried out, and I used all my strength to push my Lycan back, and then I rushed to her. She showed me her hand; there were three nail scratches on her hand. "Baby, I am so sorry," I said. Then I wanted to lick the blood, but I remembered that her blood could kill an immortal. So I decided to wipe it out until I read more about her, but when I looked up, She had no wound on her hand anymore. "What happened? Did my wound just..."