Monologues Wicked Novels & Stories

What right did she have to play the victim card when he had suffered from her actions? She made him weak and pathetic and for what? What was her end game? To use him for her benefit? Did she think that using him to remove his father wouldn’t come back to bite her? That the spell one way or another would be undone? Before he could retort, a harsh slap impacted his right side causing some who were dancing and the music that had been playing to go silent. Those who had also witnessed it felt their faces become pale from what they were seeing.

Pain coiled around me like a chokehold, the witches' curse still digging claws through my mind, dulling my reflexes, and turning every breath into a grind of steel on stone. A growl tore out of me, rumbling from deep in my chest until it rattled the stones beneath my feet. Monohue's laugh split the dark, echoing against the ruined palace walls. He cackled, head tipping back in delight. "Ah," he drawled. "The great King Sargis. The wolf who thinks himself eternal." His steps were measured. "Do you know how long I've waited for this moment? How long my kind has hidden in the shadows while yours strutted in the light, pretending the world belonged to you?"

"Only I wish you didn't look so messy." "The dockworkers will be understanding after I make our offer. Come on, Lycus, don't be too worried." He laughs, sounding bitter, and we walk to the elevators. "I almost wish you did have a woman in that room," he says. "You know finding a wife will go a long way toward pacifying your loudest critics."

Vienna’s POV Monica’s eyes flashed for a second. But she quickly pasted on a look of wounded dignity, clutching her pearl necklace. "How dare you, Warren? After all I’ve done for you, you speak to your poor stepmother like this?" Her voice trembled just enough to make her look like the victim. I watched her carefully—and in that moment, it hit me. This was where Desiree got her flair for drama. The same practiced self-pity, the same crocodile tears, the same knack for twisting a scene.

I questioned angrily, my tone rising as I finished, crossing my hands over my buxom chest in what I hoped was an air of indignant disbelief. I couldn't believe the cheek of it! “Oh, spare me the theatrics, Reynolds, I know your kind, and I've seen how you look at the Lycan, that lustful gleam in your eye.” The Wicked witch of the mountains chortled and my jaw just about hit the floor like a dustpan ready to collect rubbish. “You're crazy!” I gasped, my chest heaving from the effort as my heart hammered between my breasts when it looked like the hag was going to approach me.

"So go ahead and cast me as the Wicked Witch lurking in the shadows of your little party, but you'll see, darling. You can run as much as you want, but you can't escape the storm that's brewing. I will tear your world apart until you realize that you can’t survive without me. We were made for each other. You’re mine." Vivienne’s voice crested on the final word, the mine coming out shrill like her character was on the brink of hysterics. The tonal whiplash between the character’s high-strung emotions and Vivienne’s next words – spoken in her normal tone of voice – had Marcus’s inner bear clawing at the floors with the need to check on her, the beast unsure whether she was alright even though

Hope slowly began to bloom inside me. Maybe this would actually work. The scene shifted to the night devourers attacking Kael’s village. Actors screamed and ran across the stage as shadowy creatures emerged from the darkness. I stepped forward dramatically. “These monsters will not take another life!” I declared. The audience was completely silent, completely absorbed. The next scene came. Kael running to the spirits for help. I dropped to my knees dramatically on the stage. “Oh great spirits,” I said, raising my voice toward the heavens, “hear my plea. My people are dying. The night devourers grow stronger each day. I beg you… grant me the power to destroy them.”

And you proved it very well! Rebecca got up from the floor. She wiped her tears and ran into the bathroom. After taking the shower and getting ready. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen and red. Her cheeks flushed, and she took a deep breath. "I am coming back to my pack. I am coming back to get my answers and get my position and respect back. I will show you, Crysler Dark. I am not a weak girl who will sit quietly and accept anything you did to her, No I don't care what you did in the past or your good deeds. But I remember what you did to me, and it is not right and not acceptable. This Rebecca is changed. And she is changed for good." She thought then took a

Only stopping when a hidden memory within the depths of his consciousness resurfaced. ‘She was the reason your mother died.’ A voice echoed in Duncan’s mind. The smile on his face immediately vanishes, his joy subsiding, together with the enjoyment he was having. His heat and wanting were the only thing that remained. He swallowed hard when ideas started pouring on him. This brought him back into reality, as the loudness of the music also returned. ‘Why did he feel that way? If it was really just his rut, why was he immune to the others, but not her? If it was a spell, it should have been broken by now, considering they were in a warded place.’

The imposter, no longer concealing her malevolent intentions, retaliated with dark magic, creating illusions that danced on the periphery of reality. Zavier and I, our wolf forms intertwined in a synchronized dance, circled the imposter, each movement a strategic attempt to dismantle the witch's illusions. The courtyard, once a stage for treachery, became a battleground where the authenticity of love clashed with the artifice of deception. "Dominico, snap out of it!" I urged, my voice cutting through the illusions like a beacon of reality. The imposter, sensing the unraveling of her charade, intensified her efforts to manipulate Dominico's emotions.