Medusa Novel Novels & Stories

Milena~ Rolling from side to side, the softness beneath gives life and warmth to my once-arched body. It’s mysterious, waking up and finding yourself in a serene place. A room adorned with maze walls, beautiful white tapestries, an ornate white rug, and sheets. How did I get here? The goddess must have softened the beast’s heart, enough to ease my torture. Should I feel good about it? This isn’t right. Nothing good comes from the Ryders. Why did Alpha Dragomir bring me to a better room when his intention is to create agony for my existence? This is his room. My new hell.

"What is your motive for ruining my life when you could have had anyone else?" Draven sipped his drink, looking at me over the rim with cold eyes. "The curse is none of your business, Melissa. You would do well to remember that you are my property now, so you will do as I say." A fire ignited in my chest, burning hotter than my fear. I walked right up to him and looked him in the eye before spitting in his face. "You lose if you think I will ever bow to you or accept this as my life," I said, with venom in my voice.

The smoke from the western wing had thinned enough that the sky was visible through it. And the sky was not the dark gray of early dawn anymore. The full moon moved to the exact center of the window. Enormous and flooding the treatment room with silver light that mixed with the white of the Mark and produced something between the two. Something that settled over the bed and over me and over everything in the room. "The moon," she said quietly. "I know," Elara said. The eleventh wave was built. "AAHH!" "Now!" Edna said. "Nerissa. Now. Give me everything."

I’m so disoriented and confused as to what’s happening and before I can even try to get up, someone is on top of me and pinning me down with something cold pressed to my throat that I can only assume is a blade. I look up at my captor, assessing them. They are slender and curvy with the frame of a woman. Their eyes are a piercing green and make me feel like my every move and expression are under scrutiny and being assessed. I don’t feel afraid for some reason, I know I should, but all I can think about was the way my parents were murdered, and I feel angry and indignant. I am NOT going to die this way. Dying this way, of all ways… That’s bullshit! I narrow my gray eyes, continuing to meet th

Lets it reshape her into what she needs to be. Brave. Brilliant. Perfect. Micah and Sera stumble from the tunnel entrance. Both bleeding from their noses. Both faces pale. Both shaking. "We had to leave," Micah gasps. "The energy is too intense. We couldn't stay conscious." "Did you see her?" I demand. "Briefly. Before the light got too bright. She's glowing. Head to toe. Pure gold. I've never seen anything like it." The pillar flares. Brighter than before. So bright even looking near it hurts.

Chapter 90 The Deadland Jyra’s face hovered inside a dark crystal orb as he spoke to the arch-demons. “Look, I know you don’t want to come because you think you’ll be fighting the werewolves alone,” Jyra said. “But what if I tell you it’s more than just the werewolves? There’s a new creation now.” “A new creation?” Marvin asked, curiosity sharp in his voice. Jyra nodded. “They’re called the Goldren’s.”

She straightened as they wheeled me away. I kept my eyes on her until the doors closed. Even as darkness pulled at the edges of my vision, one truth burned brighter than the agony: I had lost her completely. And yet, kneeling in her blood and her power… some ruined, desperate part of me was already addicted to this new version of her. The Queen Surgeon of Ruin. My ruin. And I would pay any price to stay in her hands.

Whiskey. I searched the village before it got too dark. It was only a small one. I'd say home to maybe less than sixty. Well, was home to them, not anymore. I did manage to find the pack library after a bit of ransacking. It was quite small, but the books and scrolls were very old, the oldest one dating back six hundred years. It was a journal kept by an Alpha at the time. He had decent handwriting, though my old Russian was a little rusty, so a lot of the text was a mystery to me. The yellowing pages were filled with pictures and diagrams and detailed notes. One word stood out among the rest. Boginya. Goddess. I read through the journal a bit more, until I was fully satisfied. This pack hav

Caitlin dove into the book, scanning through, turning the pages as fast as she could, looking for any mention of vampires, of how to heal or cure one, how to bring one back to normal life. As she began to read, she suddenly slowed down. She went back and read it again. Then again. Her heart started beating with hope. She could tell right away that this book was very different than the others. This, of all the books, felt the most real to her, the most scholarly, the most impartial. It wasn’t filled with hyperbole and myth and wild stories told by grandmothers. This one was written, paradoxically, by a bishop, in the 16th century. Also a doctor, he had seen dozens of inexplicable cases of cor

They could go ga-ga over her presence as well. She stood near her and took her out of the ropes' grip and chanted some words repeatedly; they could hear Karen coughing as she struggled to wake up. She finally sat down and sneezed repeatedly. When she opened her mouth, ready to tongue-lash the river goddess for raising her from death, her mouth was sealed by powers that no one could dare free her from. The witch who saved her was the only creature in the world assigned to take care of her after her resurrection.