Pokémon Sword And Shield Rival Novels & Stories

She twisted; shadowsteel met Dual Essence. A loud crack was heard by both of them. The blade vibrated violently under her force, nearly slipping from Ravion’s grip. His eyes widened in awe. He finally met a match that he enjoyed and appreciated at the same time. “You’re adapting faster than I expected.” “I’m learning,” she said, chest heaving. “You’re evolving,” Ravion corrected. He stepped back, blade ready. “Again.” The spectators were on their feet. They were all holding their breath. Solaris shouted her name. Noctis roared for Ravion. Lunaris whispered in shock.

Control. Then he lunged. Fast, faster than my expectation. I blocked, twisted, and drove an elbow toward his ribs. He ducked under, sweeping a leg at mine. I countered, claws pushing at the edges of my fingertips; not a full shift, just enough for power. The air hummed with energy. “Not bad,” I muttered, pushing him back. He grinned. “Nice trick but you’ll need more than compliments to win.” We clashed again, blows and counters echoing through the arena. Each strike carried more heat than it should have: anger, rivalry, something I couldn’t name. The faint glow in his eyes told me his wolf was close to the surface, too.

The slave house isn’t really a slave house as it houses no slaves simply because Ashriel isn't a big fan on objectifying humans. He has chefs, cleaners, gardeners, workers, there was no need for slaves. There was also no need for killing his brother but here we are. Therion stands up when he hears someone coming . He’s not surprised when he sees its the alpha. “Back for round two?” He asks dauntingly . Ashriel is shocked to say the least. He doesn’t let it show. Simply cocks his head to the side and accesses the man. Wondering where he got the nerve.

I hoped every tip he’d given me in training would pay off. A few minutes later, the assistant had me geared up in the custom warrior armor, fitting it perfectly. Then the announcement boomed: “Nyra Virellion versus Phaedor Soryn!” While the commentator ran through our profiles, I double-checked the potions at my waistband. We could only carry three. I skipped the strength potion too much fatigue afterward and the wit potion too, since my reflexes were already sharp. That left me with the potion of mindfulness and a healing potion. Mindfulness helped me plan my next move before I even made it, and the healing one was a lifesaver, especially without a wolf to rely on. It could bring me back to

“And after the match I have an announcement to make.” He left before anyone could ask what that meant. The room erupted into noise the moment the door shut behind him. I pulled my helmet on and strapped it down with both hands and checked it twice and then checked it a third time and told myself to stop. ++++++ The arena was already alive when we stepped onto the ice. And there was Liam. Exactly like the dream. He was moving in slow easy circles at the far end, fluid and unhurried, his Eagles jersey catching the light. He saw me the same moment I saw him and raised his stick once in greeting.

Vera growled, her voice raspy. The room cleared instantly as people scrambled to leave. As Cole passed me, he shot me a glare and leaned in to whisper a warning, "Mylo, you better keep your mouth shut. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you die a very painful death." I ignored him and just watched Vera’s slumped back. This was my rival. The opponent I had fought for seven years. I could defeat her, but I wouldn't let her be destroyed by something this pathetic and underhanded.

Valdren called. Ragnar stepped forward. "Your opponent will be Hubron Montclair of the Ebon peak pack." A tall, lean wolf stepped forward from the other side of the circle. He and Ragnar seemed to know each other, they exchanged nods that looked more wary than friendly. I crossed my fingers behind my back and sent up a desperate prayer to the goddess. Please let me be paired with Caleb. Please, please, please. Please! "Caleb Silverveil." Yes! Thank you, goddess!

I got off the plane while holding on to my injured left arm. I was about to call my brother when dozens of Maybachs came driving toward me. They parked in a tidy line in front of me. My brother got out of a Rolls-Royce, which was the last in line. He came to me with open arms. "You're finally home, my little princess! If you still refuse to come home, the youngest son of the Marcatos, Shane, would fly to Rimo on his personal plane to snatch you from your wedding."

Mate. That word. That fucking word. Then nothing. Again. I must have blanked out from the shock. I stared back at the tangled sheets, our naked bodies and a soreness deep in my stomach I couldn't fathom. That could only mean one thing. Oh god. Fuck. We had sex. I stared hard at the image of him on the wall. He was my mate. The moon goddess had to be joking. He was my rival. My enemy. Proud, cocky and arrogant.