Milo Belladonna Novels & Stories

Perhaps, he did not understand that he was asking that question to a gangster, who has his hand over everything possible. Kai, passes a hand through his hair, resisting the urge to slap Huck across the face. "In case you don't know, my name is Milo Kai Anton, known as Lord Viggo. I have access to almost everything I set my eyes on and your community was fortunate to be amongst the things I like. Further, your home or whatever it is picks my attention and does contain what belongs to me". He said the last part with his face void of emotion. The confidence in his tone could tell that he was set to get what he wanted and no one was going to stop him.

That faithful moment that changed her and her sister’s life forever. Rie dried her face using the towel hanging on her shoulder and then walked out of the bathroom. She weakly sat down on the bed. She no longer knew what was happening. Rie was still drinking tea made of flax seeds every night. Flax seed was one of the major ingredients for a sleeping potion.

His robes whispered against the floor as he walked, his thin frame almost hidden by their folds. “You called for me,” Milo rasped, his voice carrying the eerie stillness of graveyards. His sightless gaze turned unerringly towards Scarlett’s sleeping form on the bed. I clenched my fists tighter, claws pricking into my palms. “See her. Tell me what’s happening to her.” Milo moved closer, his pale fingers trembling as he reached out. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, placing two thin fingers against her temple. His eyes fluttered rapidly, lips parting as his breath came in shallow gasps.

I try to take care of her at work and outside work, her husband does everything he can to keep her out of trouble. Norah pouts, and I pull her out of the kitchen until we're in a safe, quiet zone. She shows me a small vile wrapped in a silky napkin, watching with wide eyes to see my reaction. "What the hell is that?" I have to ask. She grins. "It's another poison to add to my collection. I finally got the belladonna extract," she explains. "Are you crazy?" I whisper-shout, looking around. "This is a restaurant! You have to stop bringing them here!"

Once most of the people in the room are dismissed, I turn to Sy and Arrow. “I have two questions. Now that you know everything that’s happened, how quickly can we get Bronx out of the Beyond? He’s not safe there. Also, what do we do about Milo?” “For Milo Stone, Delilah and I can create a potion to keep his head clear while the Goddess Psyche can figure out a more permanent solution for him.” Lady Camille nods her head slowly. “Delilah has told me there is a corner of the greenhouse dedicated to herbs and spices she needs, so it should be easy enough to create in two days’ time.”

Amara turned, eyes narrowing. Milo Nero. Tall, white-haired, dressed in a dark burgundy suit like a vampire king. His eyes were black holes. “You must be the prodigal daughter,” he said, stepping closer. “I’ve waited a long time to meet the girl who turned Sicily inside out.” Amara stepped forward, shielding Isabel behind her. “You’re done,” she said. “Granada’s no longer yours.” Milo laughed. “Oh, niña. You really think this ends with me?”

"Lavender oil, Milady." Another said, eagerly pushing a carefully wrapped gift into her hands. The face that looked back at hers had wrinkles by the corners of her eyes that seemed to twinkled with abundant happiness, her grin wide. Which only got wider when she realized that she had Belladonna's attention fully to herself. Her hands became a little shaky in Belladonna's own. "You'll certainly love it, Milady." "Thank you." Belladonna smiled back in appreciation, taking the gift, as she looked down at the package.

Yep, so now it should be easily distinguishable," I said flicking through pages looking for a sign of red. It wasn't until another hour later that I spotted the next red name. A girl named Elizabeth from the 1700s. I put my slight disappointment that it wasn't Milly aside and continued to search for another thirty minutes. "Max..." I said to my eldest cousin who had sloped back to the sofa. "I think I found her. Her full name is Millia right?" He nodded as he leant over my shoulder and looking to where I was pointing. "Millia Benedetta?" Max said reading the words on the page. "Her birthday, April 17th, 2007 AD, is right but why Benedetta and where is the rest of us?" "That's not your Dad,"

The sun didn’t rise for Milo; it merely suggested itself through the sheer, cream-colored curtains of his bedroom. Milo sat at the edge of his bed, his toes curling into the plush white rug. He looked down at himself, a sight that usually brought a flush of heat to his cheeks. Even in a simple oversized sleep shirt, he couldn't hide the way his body was built. His skin was pale, almost translucent like fine bone china, and beneath the fabric, his hips flared into soft, wide curves that felt entirely too feminine for a boy of nineteen. His "feminine" face stared back at him from the vanity mirror—big, doe-like brown eyes framed by lashes that were too long, and hair that was a chocolate-color

Milo eyed the dishes with a hint of scepticism, his expression turning into a subtle pout. ‘What’s this green stuff, Mom? And why is there fish that looks like it’s wearing a fancy coat?’ Alessia chuckled at Milo’s candid observations. ‘That, sweetheart, is a kale salad, and the “fish with a fancy coat” is lobster. It’s a delicacy.’ Milo wrinkled his nose. ‘Well, I don’t like it. Where’s the pizza or burgers?’