Matching Robes Novels & Stories

Colors swirled within those luminous depths like galaxies being born: silver, gold, obsidian, and the faintest hint of crimson before finally settling in silver. His formal business suit dissolved like morning mist and in its place appeared robes that would have made bygone emperors weep with envy. Deep midnight blue formed the base, so dark it was almost black, but shot through with silver embroidery. The robe flowed around his tall frame as though gravity itself bent to his will. Silver clasps held the garment at his shoulders, each one carved with intricate designs. A high collar framed his face, adding to his imposing height and making him seem carved from marble by divine hands.

After saying that, she waved her hand, "Bring the robe I prepared." Before everyone's eyes, she draped the robe over Emma. The robe was light and warm, made of pale pink silk, embroidered single plum blossoms in gold thread, and black thread coloring cloud patterns. It was lined with white chinchilla fur, making it look very cozy. Emma gently touched it and found that it was old clothes inside, clearly indicating that Luna Sandra wanted to raise her profile in front of everyone, especially exchanging old dresses for the favor of someone. She smiled and said, "Thank you, Mother."

Mine was a Crimson velvet cloak that reached to the feet and trailed somewhat on the ground at the rear, with an open front lined and bordered with ermine. All six of the pack’s elders were present, dressed in royal blue, donned drop-sleeve robes with stars and moons patterns, closed fronts that slip over the head, and attached hoods. Large round concrete propane fire pots in rustic black flared with flames in all four corners. Two of these sat at the foot of the ritual circle, with my Beta and Gamma standing at each.

“However, you have never joined the pack for training. I feel that it is my duty as a warrior to make sure that the Luna of our pack is able to protect us.” “I can respect that,” I reply as we enter the cage. “Don’t go easy on me. Show me why you are the best female warrior.” Kira nods in response and walks to the opposite corner of the cage where a man is waiting for her. I untie the belt around my waist and turn to face Tyler. He gently grasps the shoulders of my robe, holding it still so I can slip my arms out of the sleeves. Werewolves are a bit more conscientious of nudity than you may think. We wear the robes because we believe that our bodies are for our mates. We don’t normally allow

I can’t keep wearing those oversized clothes that belong to them—not that I mind, but I want tonight to be different. I slip into the robe. It is much shorter than I expected, and it ends mid-thigh, but that’s just perfect. I tie the strings into a neat bow and adjust the top a bit to show a bit of my cleavage. I cup my boobs and smile at the outcome. Perfect!

They claim I can’t get pregnant if they have sex but I’m not taking the risk. “Ready?” Austra smiles at me. I absentmindedly stoke the heavy red velvet robe that she hangs over my shoulders. The trim is made of the fur of rabbits that Gunther and Aminta hunted together. The chain which prevents my robe from falling off of my shoulders is fastened to the robe with two dragon scales. Showing my royal dragon lineage of reminding every queen after me that we have ties to the dragons. My gown is a floor length tight deep navy blue satin with a black lace overlay. The split is thigh high and the neckline shows a generous amount of cleavage. Zared is wearing a suit with a tailcoat in the same navy

“Why on earth would you go to such lengths to find me, and pay so much for my services if you thought I didn’t?” “Right, no, sorry, I wasn’t trying to be rude. It’s just all a bit much to take in, you know?” Jimmy pointed to the covered dummy. “Is that . . . my God, did you really . . . have you made a suit out of the footage I brought you? For real?” “No, I haven’t made a suit, I’ve made a robe. The garment must suit the material from which it’s fashioned. A robe is more fitting to its ancient origins.”

I hesitated for a heartbeat, then linked my arm with his. He felt like a fortress. His broad shoulders, the solid weight of him as I leaned into his side—it all felt so familiar, so safe. I thought of the mornings at the Ridge, watching him train with the heavy weights, the way his muscles moved under his skin. “I chose the ritual robes for you,” he said suddenly as we entered the boutique. “What?” I couldn't understand why he was telling me this. Grant wasn't the type to fish for compliments. Then I saw the robes.

"Take her." They moved forward, but Zane stepped in front of me. "Try it." "You can't fight us all, Darius." "Want to bet?" A howl echoed through the forest. Then another. And another. Rogues emerged from the shadows. Dozens of them, surrounding the pack wolves. "You brought an army?" Alpha Thorne snarled. "I brought family." Zane smiled, all teeth. "The rogues you've been hunting? They're mine. Every last one."

I mutter, hatred still flowing through my veins instead of blood. I wrap the garrotte wire tighter across my hands, getting into stance as my eyes follow a subtle movement from the bushes. The signal is a howl from Ryker. Ragnar has us all briefed. My hands are covered in a pair of knuckle dusters. I had my leather jacket over my gear, which was actually a crop top and slick black pants that allowed me to move around, a utility belt with a series of knives strapped to it, and military boots. A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes.