روايات وقصص ضمن Rhysand Feyre

Blake needs her, she kept him balanced. I feel my eyes start to fill with tears, but it's hard to cry when you're drowning on your own blood. Blake stands to his feet. I can feel the rage pouring off of him. I look into his pitch-black eyes as He shifts into his beast and takes off with Tim right behind him. Every time I take in a breath I can feel my broken ribs ripping into my lungs. "Sarah get to the front of the castle now!" I tell her through the mind link.

And she's never one to say no when she gets to dance with the devil and get away with it. So, she killed them and came to him. The infamous Viktor Drago known as the hybrid. Finding him wasn't hard since Jack just fed her whatever she wanted, but she had to spend months proving that she's here because of what she wants. She wants Landon and the throne, he wants Brooklyn, his stupid bride. She never understands what on earth the girl has on her that has powerful people swarming around her. Maybe it's her blood, but then again, she never really cares. As long as Brooklyn is out of the picture, she doesn't care.

Amara POV Night has started to feel like a book I never meant to open, yet somehow keep finding in my hands, its pages turning without permission while ink bleeds into places that should remain blank. Feeding used to be hunger and relief, a sharp need answered with practiced control, but now it feels like stepping into someone else’s dream while my body stays behind. Each time Nyra offers her wrist, I brace myself not just for blood, but for whatever scraps of memory decide to slip through the cracks between us.

Just then a golden crescent-shaped moon mark flickered across his forehead. My breath caught again. “What was that?” Warner glanced toward the door. “Keep your voice low. He is not someone we can afford to offend.” My eyes widened. “Who is this? Do you know him?” Warner carefully parted the Lycan’s locked jaws and dripped three drops of the potion into his mouth. “If I remember correctly…” He hesitated. “The person lying in front of us is none other than the Lycan King of the Lycan Kingdom.”

"He's my cousin. He’s powerful, strategic, and views Darek Ironfang as a true threat to the Pack's safety. He's a reluctant ally, but he needs to accept Luna before the Trials begin." Rhys met us at an isolated, small hunting cabin deep within the protected woods - a neutral territory for high-ranking Pack members. Rhys was strikingly different from Kael and Marcus. He was tall and lean, wearing tailored, expensive clothes, and his wolfish eyes were a pale, calculating green. He projected calm, cerebral authority, not aggressive dominance. He greeted Kael warmly, but his assessment of me was instantaneous and thorough, lasting several uncomfortable seconds. "So, the human Mate," Rhys stated,

For all the hate curled in my gut, for all the stories Nana Fiona drilled into me about fire and betrayal and bloodlines— When he looked at me, I didn’t feel hate. I felt heat. Confusion. A pull I couldn’t explain. And if he kept looking… He’d figure it out. Not just who I was. But what I was. And worse—so would I. Ryden The moment she walked into the room, she stole my attention. It wasn’t just how she looked, with her gold eyes that told stories of dragon ancestors—it was something else. I don’t usually get distracted not by females, but with by her, I couldn’t look away.

So, he braced himself to say, "Calm down, Kael. There might be a misunderstanding. Arya adores you, so why would she ever cheat on you?" With Father speaking up on her behalf, Arya steadied her trembling breath and mustered the courage to say, "He is your son. Half-beasts with fox tails aren't unheard of, and look at his eyes; they're just like yours!" She pointed at the cub's tightly shut eyelids and desperately tried convincing Kael to accept it. Kael's eyes burned red with fury, and he was trembling all over as he fought to hold himself back. "You think I'm a fool?" he snarled.

Thyra let out a gasp when she noticed the dangerous red eyes that stared at her as if he could see through her. She could dictate the anger from the expression of the man. But what did she do to receive such a deadly stare? Wait! Red eyes! Thyra internally screamed as the realization hit her. The man she had been admiring was an Alpha. They were the only ones among werewolves with that eye color. At least that was what she knew from the research and discoveries she had made.

Before I could panic, my eyes met Dymon’s, and the sheer reminder of his presence, the calm, unwavering look in them made me feel a bit more grounded. “Direwolves of the Syllian Isle, I have invited you all the day to celebrate the return, of my long lost, and yet most certainly beloved granddaughter Feyre. We all know what happened to my daughter Amelia, and the blight it cast upon my family.” He looked sad now, and paused, as if reflecting on his dead daughter, regret clear on his face.