Nemesis An Orphan X Novel Novels & Stories

One she had only felt for someone in the past; her roommate last session, Chloe. Nora's eyes thinned in anger as she watched Trisha. “I was only trying to be friendly, you know, but since you asked ‘so what?’, I'm gonna show that to you.” Trisha's hand encircled her wand even tighter like a cobra round a prey. She wasn't going to back out from a fight. Especially not this. “I can't wait to see what you have to do,” she replied sarcastically. Nora didn't say anything else. She stood up from her bed and furiously marched out of the room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

He told me I was the last living male Nikandros. The heir. The only one left. I’d laughed in his face at first. Me? Heir to anything? I had grown up with nothing but a sick grandmother and my own bare hands. But then came the proof. Then came the tests. The signatures. The meetings. And suddenly I wasn’t Chase Andrews the-nobody anymore. I was Orion Nikandros. Owner of a legacy worth billions. A name that made rooms go silent. A fortune I never asked for but made my own anyway.

She turned and walked after Emerson, Chloe falling into step beside her, the clapping dying down as people lost interest and started moving again. Just like that, the corridor began to empty. People drifted off in twos and threes, already talking about something else, already done with me. I stood there watching them go. My knees were still stinging from the floor. My scalp still ached where Savannah had pulled my hair. And my essay — two weeks, my mother's tea, the kitchen table, every late night — was tucked under Emerson Weston's arm as he disappeared around the corner without looking back once. I didn't cry. I refused to cry.

I was ready to set the entire ballroom ablaze with my manufactured radiance. I expected every lower-ranking Luna and every woman present to stare at me—Olivia—with hot, frustrated envy. What shattered my composure was the sudden, materialization of a Nemesis—a chilling, hateful ghost from a past I thought I had perfectly buried. Claire. She stood there, radiating the effortless power of a cruel myth—a goddess unfairly dropped into my domain. And in that instant, I became the pathetic one, my stomach curdling with bitter realization. I had assumed her ruin. I had celebrated her death. I had been so convinced that I had won when I stole her rightful mate. Yet, in my blind arrogance, I had only

Michelle Morripin – The Lone Wolf Snow piled in my hair as I wandered through the black forest, each step sinking into the soaked ground. The cold was a constant reminder of everything I had lost. Everything that had been taken from me. My name was no longer spoken in Neveryth. I was nothing more than a shadow, a wolf without a pack, a mistake meant to be forgotten. When I was exiled years ago, I was too young to fight against the decrees of Glen J. Baker, the Alpha who ruled the region.

He flipped a page to an orange wolf, he had the colors of the fall. "The empath, the gift of feeling others emotions. The gift that history said was always used to do good, it helped people heal. But the more it was used the more emberable it got until the wolf couldn't take it anymore." I'm starting to catch a common nominator between all of them and that is that each and every one of them ultimately ended up dead. "How do we get to know which one is she?" Atlas makes a good question.

she laughed further, like a heartless witch that she is. They say everyone deserves a second chance, but that doesn’t apply to Anna, because she is the most dangerous, heartless, and cruel woman you might ever come across. “I need to run along. Now that the pest is gone, I need to end Sofia also, so I can claim Derek once more, because he is mine, and mine alone,” she stood up with a wicked smirk around her lips. She dusted her clothes and continued rampaging around the bush again. “Why is this bush so endless? It seems I will never get to where I am going,” she hissed in irritation.

Nanny’s words tumbled out faster, “The blood oath, if you complete that ritual with him, it would awaken all of his armies tied and locked away through the years by Moonwhisperers. And you’ll lift off the final ban on his power set by Neriah… please, you must fight this.” My gaze dropped instinctively to my palm, where the faint scar from earlier still tingled. It was a reminder, and a warning. Then I looked back at Xander, who stared at me with that same infuriating smirk. “Maybe,” he drawled, shrugging as if it were nothing, “I didn’t tell you all the truths. But she’s kind of right. But I wasn’t lying about you being Neriah’s reincarnation.”

Nelanian ripped it open and read the name scrawled in calligraphy. 'Assassinate Mr. Starkridge by the 20th of this month.' It was stated. Nelanian remembered who he was at that point. "I am Zegrath Void, The Necessary Evil and Keeper of Darkness, the hundred and seventh to hold the title," he said in his brain as he descended the hill.

He crossed the threshold and stopped in the narrow hallway of my mother's house, with its photographs on the wall and the smell of scrambled eggs still in the air and the particular quality of a home that has been filled with love for a long time, and looked at Zane. Zane looked at him. They regarded each other in the hallway for a moment, the man and the boy with the same dark eyes and the same quality of stillness when something mattered, and I stood at the bottom of the stairs and my mother stood by the kitchen door and neither of us breathed. Then Zane said, "You came at ten. You said you would and you did." "Yes," Marcus said. "Good," Zane said, with the air of someone whose primary hyp