My Father's Eyes My Mother's Rage Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

But the moment my eyes clashes my dad's view, l find it very difficult to explain what l saw. My father frown his face, and his eyes were become an absolute reddish. I blinks twice whether am dreaming for what I view but l truely find out it's real. Silent clash all the way for some minutes, Lucas call the priest attention to conclude the massage. No single pity on his eyes and although without even looking at my direction again. I have ever known the kind of hatred that Lucas is throwing on me had reached to this level. Which kind of disgrace I'm facing, and what ever l had did to Lucas that permit him to treat me in this shameless act.

I grab one and pop it inside my mouth, removing my earphone, when a voice from behind almost made me choke. "Caty," his voice was so stern it made my skin crawl. "Father," I acknowledged as cold and as formal as I can, not letting my guard down. Deafening sound of silence erupted between us. My father isn’t the type who talks when there's a problem. He would usually ignore people around him until he cools down, until everyone forgets. And when he's mad, he spills blood. Right now, I cannot read him. I find it difficult to explain the rage and regret in his eyes. "Ci fisseremo fino alla rottura dell'alba?" Are we going to stare at each other until the break of dawn? I asked, raising an eyebro

And then he rapped: “Hey dad, it’s me, Um, I'm Tyler. I think I’d be your son. Sorry, I called you the wrong name See my brain’s splitting. Dad isn’t your name, see, faggot’s a little more fitting. My mother raised me as a single parent, so it’s apparent. That I got love for my mother none of you other fuckers.” Rose froze. Her heart clenched in shock and Pride. “Who taught you how to rap like that?” she asked, stunned.

I roared, my eyes glowing with a feral light, my fangs protruding as rage overtook me. "Violence is never the answer," a familiar voice said calmly. I turned slowly, meeting my father's smirk with a gaze full of fury. "Hello, son,"

The reserve he controls so tightly is gone. I once asked my mother what first attracted her to my father. She said it was his eyes-the kindness in his eyes. Moon has intense eyes-blue and mystic, treacherous and deadly, sensual and all-knowing. His eyes alone draw me in. Then, he laughs. It's more than a sexy sound. It's sex that punches between my thighs so I'm riding the vibration. It's deep and uncontrolled; a veritable thrust of sound that heats my blood.

Her father had said that the last thing he would want to do was encounter the man again, he had said so many things about him, but now looking at him as he slept, he was nothing like the things her father had said, except when he opens his eyes. She shuddered at the thought of his black eyes, that eyes scares her, so black, so devoid of any emotion, the eyes were just black and blank, you can never see anything through it and once again she remembered her father’s words about his eyes, “his eyes so black and blank that you can see nothing but your upcoming death.” she blinked away the thought, realizing that her father was just right, when he was looking at her that time in the closet, she h

Then she leaned in, her lips curving into a smug smile as she whispered in my ear: “Katherine, just look at my mother and Alpha—they’re perfect for each other. The only one worthy of Alpha is my mom, not you. If only Lena were dead, then Alpha could finally be my dad.”

My father’s eyes quickly glanced over my bedroom and then landed on my mate. I did not even think it was possible for him to get so angry…his eyes were literally turning blood red with his veins popping out, his nose flared up and his fists balled up so tight I thought his head was about to pop right off his neck. In my whole life I have never seen him this angry and that says a lot since he was pretty much always angry when it came to me. I am not exactly sure what it is about my mate they made him get even more pissed off but he actually did and I could feel the sheer terror coming off of him as well as the pure and unfiltered fright that was now across the whole room.

He paused suddenly, and I felt his breathing change. "Until... She died?" I asked hesitantly, lifting my head to meet his eyes. His shoulders went rigid. His chest tightened beneath my palm. And when I lifted my gaze to his face, his eyes were no longer warm—they were burning with rage. What is it about his mother that always does this to him?

"Your father beat you; sometimes within an inch of your life, didn’t he?" His dark, intense eyes met mine again, and I couldn’t recognize the mix of emotions I saw there! "I’m sorry you had to go through that," he expressed with genuine sympathy. On one hand, his eyes conveyed a deep sense of rage and vengeance, as if he desired to avenge me by inflicting the same pain and suffering on my father that he inflicted upon me. The intensity in his eyes left a burning conviction in my mind, that he would make sure my father suffered tenfold the pain he’d put me through; and then do it all over again. At the same time, his gaze also held such tender affection, that it caused my heart to race with a