Marvel King In Black Mga Nobela at Kwento

" Please, just let me go," I rasped. My throat felt like I’d swallowed a sprinkle of dry beach. " Let you go?" Victor Blackwood did n’t move from his president by the fire. He did not have to. He was the Alpha King of the North; his presence alone was a physical weight pressing the air out of my lungs. He sat there, his frame too big for the cabinetwork, watching me with eyes that glowed a low, dangerous amber.

I need to be cold as ice, right now there is nothing I can do to change anything. One question remains, how on earth was I able to see the Past of the Alpha? This was Zain’s power, never mine. I noticed it was the first time I let the King touch me, first time he gotten that close. He smells so bad, like a foul egg. No one else seems to smell it as others get close to him no problem at all. I need to snap out of it and watch what’s going on here right now, I will have later to grumble over all these things and stress on what to do next.

As the door slowly creaked open, Leon’s eyes immediately locked onto Zalethos Blackwood, seated on a raised throne at the far end of the room. Zalethos Blackwood, the Demon King, exuded an aura of authority that seemed to fill the entire room. His jet-black eyes were like bottomless abysses, cold and commanding, while the sharpness of his gaze radiated an overwhelming pressure. He wore a regal robe of deep purple, edged with gold, and every movement he made imbued with a sense of solemn dignity.

Then he cleared his throat. “That name…the brat who calls himself king…is forbidden here. I’ll let it slide once, since you’re new to our land.” He stepped closer, but slower this time, voice steady. “I’m Sebastian Blackthorn. King of the Outlands. This is my home. You’re in my territory.” King. Of course. Because why not? One fantasy king wasn’t enough…I had to stumble from Adrian’s palace straight into another king’s house. Fantastic. Just grand.

And in walked Draevon, the mad king of Khyrador, looking like he owned not just the shop or the Duskwatch Village, but the entire supernatural. He was exactly as she remembered in her past life. Tall, dark haired and impossibly handsome in that dangerous way that made people want to run and stay at the same time. He wore black leather trousers and a black shirt instead of a royal clothes, but somehow he still managed to look like a king. His dark eyes scanned the shop, taking in every detail. The tattoo equipment. The samples on the walls. The ridiculous amount of leftover food still piled in the corner. Marl, who'd been mid-bite into another pastry, froze completely. His eyes went wide and

They parted like the Red Sea, lowering their weapons and bowing their heads in absolute, terrifying reverence. ​Through the parted ranks walked a figure. ​He was impossibly tall, unnaturally slender, draped in robes of liquid shadow. His skin was the color of bleached parchment, his eyes entirely black voids. Resting upon his pale brow was a jagged, twisted crown forged of fused silver and Lycan skulls. ​The Crimson King. ​The ancient god of the vampires had returned to the surface. ​The King did not look at Alaric. He did not look at the screaming civilians. His black eyes locked directly onto Elara.

"I, Marcus Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackwood pack, confess to the following crimes: I made a bargain with the Lycan king. I gave him the bloodline of Kaelen in exchange for power over the shadow. I bound the shadow to the hybrid child, Ravenna, knowing she would one day wake it and become its vessel. I built the prison beneath the mountain to hold the king's enemies and feed them to the darkness. I killed Seraphine, my mate, when she tried to free the bloodline from my control. I watched Kaelen die and did nothing to save him. The king cannot be killed by steel or shadow. But he can be unmade. The weapon is not a sword or a dagger or a crown. It is a name. His true name. The one the first wo

Something a thug like Harrison perhaps would have wanted to think twice about before he decided to enter it. Unbeknownst to David. Not too far outside the warehouse, a jet-black Charger with its deep tinted windows blended into the eerie darkness that continued to blanket the surrounding area. The car's owner fixed on the warehouse entrance unblinking as he waited for the mafia king to leave.

We have been receiving threats from other ambitious alphas wanting to come and claim the king's seat. I am not about letting anyone take what rightfully belongs to me, to Richard my son. That is the only reason I had not killed that useless fool. Should anything thing happen to the king before I complete the rituals, then we are doomed. Richard left reluctantly slamming the door behind him, after giving a final suspicious look from Black to me, "I heard you were worried," Black said as he walked casually around the office. Black has very strong and intimidating personality traits. He is tall with even-toned abs that have been heavily adorned in tattoos. every nerve in his body seems to flex

Instead of making me feel scared or whatever, I felt powerful so I returned his wink. He cocks a single brow. A promise in his eyes. Oh, I wanted to see what he meant by that. “Your majesty,” one of the men in black says. My brows creased and I knew immediately who the enigmatic man was. The Werewolf King! I used to think he was a mystery, or something close to that at least. But he is right, in his full glory and my God, doesn’t he look good enough to eat? Another growl from behind me, this time followed by Zade’s hands tightening around my shoulder. I don’t know what urged me to but something makes me reach out and stroke his hand, in what I hope was a calming enough gesture.