Otherworldly Gaze Novels & Stories

“I’m the one... who’s going to take it back.” She stood, swaying dangerously. As her vision cleared, something strange happened. The world didn't just look sharper; it looked layered. Her Vampire Perception, heightened by the raw Fae energy still thrumming in her blood, began to peel back the skin of reality. She saw the thermal heat of Nomo’s body, the silver resonance of Elowen’s spirit, and then, something else.

With both hands on his pectorals, a few centimeters from me, I had a hard time realizing the transformation that had just taken place on his body, until I met his steely eyes. I still have this feeling of drowning in his gaze while the world stirs around us. I should be terrified, or worried about the people who were fighting against us seconds before, however they suddenly don't matter to me anymore. I'm just obsessed with his gaze as I still feel something trying to "enter" my thoughts. However, there is nothing in the world but the two of us as my hands brush against her completely bare skin.

As soon as Tara turns behind, her eyes enlarge, chilled flushes on her face, and her peptide frame starts to shiver as her frightful black doe iris meets the severe oceanic orbs that stare at her with intensity to devour her …! ****************

Like the tales of hatred or revenge that peek through the corner of his lashes, oozing an aura of danger. My toes curl against the cold tile, as I will myself to not fall under the spell of the gaze and give away any ounce of emotion that will let him through me. Walking further, I attempt to take a deep breath, only for it to be caught in my throat as Azrael walks from his place right towards me. His feet dip closer, until he reaches me, circling me, eyeing me up and down. The look in his eyes turns dark, as lust oozes from their center. Something that would benefit me a lot to keep him distracted in the game.

A cold breeze swept across her face while staring deeply into his orbs of green. Him between her tighs, a number of rockets continue to explode into the night space creating thousands of splendid luminescent green colors behind him matches his eyes. Her gaze traveled down on his adam's apple moving up and down. From his masculine chest down to his well-built abdomen, an orb of sweats rolling and sexily dripped over her. His manly intoxicating aroma lingers in her nostrils made her heart thump. Her eyes went back to his face and admired his exquisite looks, sculpted with perfection. It took almost half a minute before Mort broke their intense gazes.

His sharp brown eyes slowly descended, leaving a scorching path of fire in their wake. "F*uck!" He growled, and a smirk formed on her lips. His gaze returned to her face, and her smirk only amplified his hunger. His hands were on her waist the next thing she knew. He immediately hoisted her up and threw her on the soft bed. Onyx moved closer, her body quivering with anticipation, with a predatorial demeanour. As he hovered over her, Ophelia held her breath. He placed his hand on either side of her head. As he leaned in closer, Ophelia looked up at his darkened eyes and gulped as his hand sinfully traced her jaw. Ophelia's teeth tugged on her lower lip, and his gaze was drawn to her bottom li

I turned too, following their gaze. Above me, the sky was shifting—deep purples and reds swirling together like ink in water. Stars blinked in and out of existence. Then, something massive moved through the clouds. Eyes. Eyes larger than anything Ihad ever seen before. Watching. Judging. I staggered back, my breath caught in my throat. The gaze bore into me, dissecting my soul. A voice—whispered yet thunderous—reverberated through the space. "You are not ready."

Into this scene of quiet desperation steps a figure, their entrance unconventional as she glides through the window with an otherworldly grace that sets her apart from the mundane world outside. Approaching the girl with a silent determination, the figure's gaze sweeps over her form, taking in the sight of her suffering before turning their attention to the wound that plagues her. With a gentle touch, the figure places a hand upon the girl's fevered brow, a gesture of reassurance that belies the depth of her intent. A moment of stillness descends as she close her eyes, the room suffused with a hushed energy that crackles with an unseen power. When her eyes reopen, a shimmering golden mist da

In the center, a man is on the ground, curled into a ball as kicks and blows rain down on him. He’s thin, almost skeletal, his clothes ragged and filthy. The crowd shouts accusations—thief, vagabond, devil—but I barely hear them. My attention is fixed on the man’s eyes. They’re not human. I can see it even from here, the faint glimmer of something otherworldly in his gaze. He’s weak, starved, but he’s one of us. Though not a vampire, but he's definitely not mortal. Hazel eyes don't just glow in the dark.