Of His Bones Ao3 Novels & Stories

"That's impossible. I didn't feel anything–" He cut himself off mid-sentence. Deep down, he believed that if I had really died, he would've felt something break inside him. He had forgotten one thing. He drank the witch's potion that blocked our mate bond. "I don't care what it takes. Find Bityah. I need to give my dead brother some closure!" Watching him put on that fake, concerned act made me want to laugh. Men lied so easily. It was like breathing to them.

ALEXANDER My father and sister were both pretty fucked-up, but, damn, Blake was sick. Because we had to make do with what was available in the casino, which wasn’t much, Blake had a bunch of his warriors holding the members of the Bois Sombre Pack down while he tortured them. They were both fully naked after being forced into their human forms. Chef’s knives were brought in from the kitchen, and Blake tested each one of them out on the men’s torsos until he figured out which one was the sharpest, their ensuing screams widening his smile, his eyes gleaming.

"He sanded down the remains of tortured children until they looked like gems. And he wears them. He planted them around his estate. He has cufflinks made of femurs and collars made of vertebrae." "But... why?" Leela breathed, tears pricking her eyes, blurring the terrible drawings. "Why would he do that? It’s... it’s an abomination." "Camouflage," Elder Horne rasped, turning from the fireplace. "The magic trapped in those bones... it isn't dead. It is pure, suffering Elemental energy. It creates a frequency—a white noise of pain—that blinds the Moon Goddess." Horne looked at Leela, his eyes wet.

And I wasn’t the kind of man to make a sacrifice for anyone else. Maybe the sex would be incredible. But we were just too stubborn to find out. 8 SIENA Bones sat across from me at the table in the bar, looking furious from the second he took his seat. Covered in tattoos and awash imminent threat as he was, not even his pretty eyes could make him seem harmless. His muscles stretched his t-shirt, and his broad shoulders looked like a solid wall. A glass of scotch sat in front of him, and he downed it quickly before he ordered another.

Their weary gazes fell upon a pile of bleached white bones near the entrance, stripped clean of any flesh. It appeared as though someone or something had meticulously cleaned them, leaving behind a haunting testament to the grim reality of the situation. The realization dawned on the beastmen as they counted the bones meticulously, finding more than a hundred sets of skeletons piled up before them. Their faces contorted with anger and ferocity at the sight. The implications were clear: these clean bones could only mean that someone had devoured these beastmen, leaving nothing but their skeletal remains behind. The beastmen's fury ignited, fueled by the perceived barbarism of the humans.

If his bones were glasses, his hand might be bleeding since it was fragile and sharp enough to harm his inner and outer skin. TO BE CONTINUED..

But all I see is raw proof that I’m strong, that I survived twenty years of torment. “You are gorgeous, Nic.” Nolan leans against the doorframe. I smile at him, so grateful that the Goddess gave me him. He wraps his arms around me, and his crystal blue eyes darken just a shade. If I didn’t know any better, I could swear a mate bond was forming between us. He smells sweeter to me with every day that passes. His gaze torches through my skin. His touch pumps life back into my stiff heart. Maybe it is a mate bond; maybe the Goddess is giving us a real chance.

Through his eyes, I could see a reassurance that calmed me. "Alright," he began, and I braced myself. "It looks to me like your mate has several broken bones. She has a fractured arm—that is her humerus bone—a twisted wrist, some shattered fingers, and a few bruises here and there. As far as I can tell, she will be fine." Despite his tone of reassurance, each word struck me like a blow. I knew that this wasn't natural. It was pain deliberately inflicted upon her, and I seethed with anger at the realisation.

I could tell that he was angry, and that sent a fearful chill down my spine. I looked into his eyes, exuding hatred towards him. “I don’t care that you THINK that I belong to you. The truth is, I don’t belong to anyone. I’m 17, I haven’t even experienced this world yet. I’m not looking to shack up with anyone. Especially anyone that thinks that they can own another person.” I spat out at him. He smirked at me, and pressed himself against me, further pinning me to the wall. “I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. Do you know how old I am? I’ve been patiently awaiting your arrival for 700 years. Do you know what it’s like to wait for something that long?” He whispered in my ear, making me sh

I wanted to scream so badly that my jaw ached from the effort of trying. "Does it burn?" he whispered, his eyes wide with manic, rhythmic delight. There was something almost ecstatic in his expression, a sick pleasure that turned my stomach. He twisted his hand, the talons grinding against the ball-and-socket joint of my shoulder with deliberate slowness. I could hear the wet, crunching sound of my own cartilage tearing apart under his fingers, could feel the individual fibers of muscle separating like threads being pulled from fabric. "This is the dark current. It's eating your marrow, Zane. Can you feel it dissolving your bones from the inside out?"