Semblance Grimace Novels & Stories

The Fake Grace looked at Oscar, seeing she would reveal the truth. Oscar had no way but to press the button in his hand when he saw the situation was getting worse. Instantly, the fake one lost her voice. Fake Grace tried to sound out but found she couldn't even talk anymore. She tried hard, but the more she tried, the more she felt something tighten in her throat. She looked at the man in horror. The cold smirk on his lips was enough to show her she had lost her life when she let him do the plastic surgery on him.

“I curse every single second of the three years I spent pulling double factory shifts in the Oakhaven slums to support your worthless life while you lied straight to my face about who you were. You are a monster.” Gray smirked, the corner of his lips wrinkling into a slow, dark expression of pure, calculating amusement as he looked down at my flushed cheeks, his eyes scanning the plunging line of my dress with a proprietary intensity that made my skin crawl. He didn't look remorseful. He didn't care about the pain he had branded into my spirit.

“I don’t believe you.” She groaned dramatically. “I knew I shouldn’t have answered.” “So there is something.” She kept driving without speaking. I smiled triumphantly. “I knew it.” “Oh, stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like you’ve solved some great mystery.” “I have.” She sighed heavily. “Fine.” “There is…” She paused. “…something.” I blinked, it was unbelievable, knowing the kind of Man Grim was. He was just like Cain, with a strong face, but handsome.

The walls are filled with white tiles, which some are even broken and darkened because of old age and lack of renovation. In front of him are a sink and a large fragment of a mirror that was taped on the wall above it. The size of the mirror was enough for him to see his whole face. He stared at his reflection. He can see the unfamiliar, yet the familiar face of a young man in his early twenties. The skin was lightly tanned, the eyes were as dark as an abyss, and the hair was pink. Suddenly, he pulls the hair to remove it.

It’s the kind of smile that comes right before something explodes — or someone disappears. “You think I buried him?” His voice is quiet and crooning while he pulls a crooked, lopsided grin — one that doesn’t reach his eyes, all menace and mockery. It’s the kind of smile that suggests he might have buried worse. The yellowish light flickers above, throwing shadows over the sharp lines of his face. The scar above his brow twitches.

Olivia POV. Warmth gushes within me as I watch Grim walk away. A smile tugs at my lip. It is the first genuine smile that tugs at my lips after Conrad’s death, and my daydreaming of my mate caused it. Grim, the beastly hybrid. What the hell is happening to me? Well, I can’t blame myself for the warm sensation that flooded me. He had pecked me—not an aggressive one or out of duty, but a soft, patient one.

A seductive smile played on her lips. Ambrose's green eyes darkened and he smirked, waiting for her expectantly, as she reached across the bed and slowly placed the pancake in his mouth, with a wicked grin. Ambrose huffed a laugh and began to eat the pancake, when all of a sudden, his expression changed. The smile instantly shifted into a grimace, his eyebrows furrowed, and all Sephora could do was watch, as Ambrose spat out the pancake onto the floor, swearing loudly.

Despite my lingering hesitation, I reluctantly trailed along, compelled to witness the unfolding scene. A grimace tugged at my features as I confronted the gruesome sight before me. The sheer brutality of it spoke of an overwhelming rage; the woman's features were so disfigured that she was nearly unrecognizable. It seemed likely that my sister's anger had surged out of control, unleashing this terrifying brutality upon the woman.

The two oval and arousing muscles, like rumps of mountain sheep, tried their best to jump out of the sweaty gray training bra. A few permanent scars stretching out all over her overly exposed stomach, all the way to her back. Her face dull like a grim melody of the Hungarian 'Gloomy Sunday, Grisha did not expect that he would really figure out the crux in just 23 tries. A tinge of regret for underestimating him was apparent on her face, while she sat on her bed with a tight grip on her helmet. A look of horror and confusion was still dripping down from her exhausted, red eyes. However, her facial expression soon settled down from flinching.

She sat down beside me with her body erect and her panicked expression like that of a teenage girl caught doing something wrong. I snorted harshly when I saw the many kiss marks on her neck. It didn't stop there. I saw her jaw, collarbone, chest, thighs, and calves covered in kiss marks. It swelled her tiny lips from the brutal kiss she had received. It looked like my cousin had treated her wildly in bed. Grace wears black lace lingerie that contrasts nicely with her glistening white skin. And she covered her body with a thin white cardigan as well. Why is she wearing such an infamous outfit? Did she deliberately want to show off my cousin's work on her silky, smooth skin?