Mileena Mk1 Skins Novels & Stories

That nickname was the one Kaileyn always used to bully and use as a comeback at Zahara whenever she lost the fight. Zahara skin were almost as white as snow with very red lips that one might think all the blood in her body had gone to her lips but by the side of her face and over her left eyes was a big black mark that was supposed to be a birthmark but instead, scarred the blonde's face and made her hate staring at her face when she was younger.

She's afraid of dying. Malik goes to Majda's bag on the bed, takes out the laptop, and opens it. Thousands of photos appear on the screen. He says: **Malik:** Having her with us is crucial—she can make thousands of masks. But the question remains: how do we get past the tight security measures and enter Minister Fouad El Shenawy's villa? Do you have a plan?

Alpha Kaelen's battle scouts were selected strictly for raw wilderness lethal capacity, and Tahlia's soft, court-bred claws would be shredded within three breaths if he ever entered the true fighting pits. Mirelle raised her head, her predatory pupils mapping my silhouette against the morning sun-orbs. The golden light caught the structure of my jaw, projecting a fierce, aristocratic beauty that mirrored the ghost of Mcqueen Sterling so precisely it made her fingers lock around her bone-knife. My shadow spy delivers his full wilderness intelligence scroll today, she thought, her inner wolf snarling behind her ribs. I will uncover what rot this stray is concealing beneath that smooth skin bef

Then another. Mireya’s voice dropped low. “She’s not alone.” Kaelen wrenched free from her grip and drew his blade. “Back away, slowly.” The water swelled upward, rippling higher until it took form—a figure crawling through the surface as if the pool were a doorway. Its shape was wrong, too fluid, too shifting. Light bled from its eyes, not white but pale green—the same color as Maelis’s. Kaelen’s wolf rose beneath his skin. His pulse thundered. “Stay behind me.”

Caroline, a she-wolf who has been considered a monster since she was a child, can she break the tragedy spell and find her MATE?

"You always hide under those heavy clothes, Milo. But tonight is special. For Elena’s sake, and for ours, we need to show the Vances that this family is a collection of treasures." Milo retreated behind the screen. He stripped off his armor—the baggy hoodie and the loose jeans—and felt the cool air hit his skin. As he slid into the cream trousers, his breath hitched. The fabric clung. It hugged the wide, feminine flare of his hips and smoothed over the "bouncy" curves of his rear in a way that made him feel utterly exposed.

Angry red welts blistered my wrists, neck and torso where the silver ropes had continuously seared against my exposed flesh since last night. My wild eyes stared back at me from a haggard, exhausted face. I was utterly helpless, at the mercy of true monsters. How would I ever get back to Nina like this? Despair threatened to crush what little defiance I had left. Then, a familiar clicking of heels echoed into the room, and my head jerked up of its own accord. Mila crossed over to me, completely unfazed by my body. She was dressed in a long, emerald green silk gown that rustled when she moved; a far cry from the simple clothes she wore back in the human realm.

The skin now scarlet with black stripes, with nails like an eagle’s talons, at her back two openings like wounds but with no blood or insides showing, wearing an ancient armour and a stuff in her hand. She mooches forward to scan gaze some more upon this creature she is looking at. And the face looks as if it has been scarred in a striped fashion with two big black horns on her head. “Hmmmm, I finally feel free! Now I can unleash chaos upon this world!” she breathes hot steam out of her nose, “I have waited for this moment for so long!” Mukura is terrified by what she is seeing by keeps her composure either way. Gwanhoya turns to look at her.

Mila stood in front of her mirror, arms crossed, face scrunched in stubborn defiance. “I like the blue one better,” she said. “The blue one has juice stains,” Jace replied, crouching to her level. “You spilled it on yourself, remember?” She looked unconvinced. “What about the green one then.” Jace exhaled. “Sweetheart, you said the green one itched.” “Oh.” Mila paused, thinking, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. I'll wear this pink one.” “Thank you,” Jace said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re saving Daddy’s sanity.”

All he proved was that I made the right choice by bringing Katerina here. "Why are you in such a good mood?" a woman's voice asks sardonically. Sitting up, I see that Mila has arrived. She's wearing her typical outfit—I've never seen her in anything else—a pair of black jeans and a black tank-top, her cropped jacket shining the way well-worn leather does. Her short, raven-black hair bounces as she approaches. With her snowy skin, she might as well be a walking monochromatic photo. "I just learned I have the trump card to ending Yevgeniy right here under my roof."