Novel & Cerita Prince Of Poachers Book

“You, my friend, are wise beyond your advanced years.” He inclines his head at me. “Thank you, Princess. High praise indeed.” When we finish, I go to my room and shower, bypassing breakfast with Ailduin, Anastasia and Buppig. While my stomach is grumbling with hunger, I ignore it and head straight to the library, getting the Book of Prophecies off the shelf and sitting at a table to begin reading. When I sit, I run my hand over the book cover. The top left quarter of it is no longer glowing brightly. It’s gone from a shiny gold color to that of iron, making it stand out on the cover.

It's the alarm in little man’s voice that has me spinning, laying my eyes on the rumored ‘Mad Prince. Alpha Zayne. He has both arms around two stunning omegas. He's shirtless, with tattooed torso on display. His stomach is hard with abs, his chest is broad—good heavens, his body is a work of art, perfectly sculptured, and his face…? Goddess. The tabloids did not do justice to it. Dark, shoulder-length hair frames his chiseled jaw, perfect lips and eyes as grey as gun metal. My stomach flips as those stormy eyes lock with mine.

"This is exactly what I wanted." In the silence of the bedroom, amid the torn sheets and our mingled breath, a new truth emerges. Alessandro lit the fuse. But it was us, Mike and me, who chose to let it all explode. The predator still lurks outside. But here, in the shadows, a dragon has awakened. And I am the only one with the power to ride it… or be incinerated by its breath.

Microphones. Reporters with hungry eyes. They were being held back by palace security, but that didn’t stop them from shouting. “Prince Richard, how is the king?” “Is it true he was poisoned?” “Will Eldenwald declare war on Belmont?” “Is Princess Cassandra involved in the king’s illness?” “Prince Arden, did you sleep with Miss Longman?” That one earned a sharp look from Richard, but he didn’t stop. He kept walking, expression flat, refusing to feed the headlines.

Just as his hand slips inside her pants, a click clack noise is made on the shiny floor by expensive shoes. It was a calm walk, but it extruded dominance. It was full of aura and confidence, the slow but heavy clacks were screaming of presence. Most of all, it radiated one thing. Power. Mateo Hernández. The Mafia Prince.

___________ THE rain had already stopped and only the noises of the crickets and night birds could be heard. "Give the prince to us and you will be rewarded, young man." Venom huffed as he stood in front of the stinking rogues who were paid to annihilate the prince. "Tempting but..." he intentionally hung his next words. A taunting simper drew on his face before he went on and stated, "The prince is mine." He was assigned as a bodyguard and even if he's against it, he's not someone who could be bribed. He'd rather be dead than hand his subject to them.

The prince has an eye for beauty and he likes to be surrounded by beautiful things. I hesitate at his bedside drawer. Looking around is one thing but it becomes snooping when I’m looking into drawers. Imagining him catching me in the act makes me cringe but I really want to know what someone like him hides away. Biting on my lip, I pull the first drawer open and it opens soundlessly. It’s nearly empty, I observe with a sigh of relief. There are a few books, some tools. The books are philosophical and I gently lift them to find a picture frame. Pulling it out, I observe with a little amusement that I’m looking at a teenage Prince Ismir, before his Shifting. He and his father stand properly, s

If Billy could not reveal the dark part of the story to Warrd, hence he is trying to keep the young prince safe, then someone else might. The life of the wolf prince lies in Billy's hands in connection with the big book of the witches. As the prince grows old so does the book. The one who wants the prince dead will show him what is in the book. How does this happen? Like how is there a connection between the life of a prince wolf and a pulp book? Billy is hiding something from the prince, a truth, yes a truth which could lead to Warrd’s destruction and failure as a wolf prince.

"Yeah, we better get out of here, before I break the window and jump out to eat that human down there." *** Gail continued the story about the eighth book. " Prince Aima, that's the title. Talk about Prince Aima, of course." "Prince? Haahhh... Maybe you should change the title to Princess Aima," Al commented. "Do you know?" "Of course. I'm a hybrid, but I'm not stupid. I read a book about the fall of the Aima Kingdom. And from there I could already guess that the Prince was a woman." “Lucky guess, huh?”

I tasted it on my tongue — bitter and metallic. At the center of the room stood a stone altar, draped in heavy black cloth that spilled onto the floor like a pool of ink. A single book rested on top. Its cover was dark, almost oily-looking, bound with broad strips of leather and clasped at the corners with dull silver that caught the candlelight and threw it back in cold glints. Behind it stood the prince. He didn’t look at us right away. His head was bowed, one hand tracing along the book’s spine with something almost tender. Lady Senna and the armored man flanked him like twin pillars of judgment, their expressions carved from ice.