Silhouette Covers Novels & Stories

Crouching down beside Bellamy, she placed a hand either side of his face and covered his mouth with her own. A visible white light passed through Zorhia’s mouth and into Bellamy’s and disappeared down his throat. His chest rose off of the floor as Zohria broke the kiss an backed away, that same light still flowing from her mouth and into Bellamy’s. Thea gasped as she looked at Zorhia, she saw her once hazel eyes were now a blinding silver. When she looked back at Bellamy, she breathed a sigh of relief as she saw his lips return to their usual peach colour and the grazes from the glass shards close up.

"Love is a force more powerful than you can fathom, and it will be our shield against your malevolence." As our combined magic surged forth, the Nightshade recoiled, momentarily stunned. It realized that we were not the mere playthings it had anticipated. We were warriors, bound by a cause greater than ourselves, fueled by love and fueled by the unyielding desire to protect the sanctuary of Silverwood. In a surge of fury, the Nightshade unleashed its full power, darkness pouring forth like a torrential storm. We braced ourselves, pushing back against the onslaught, our collective energy radiating with a brilliance that matched the Nightshade's darkness.

She was wearing a veil underneath, one that made me wonder why she had the shawl in the first place. "My name is Layla. Even though I am a witch, I can disguise my scent to be that of a werewolf. You will keep my secret and tell your people that you found me on your way back from the forest. I simply want a home and I will give you my body for as long as you want" She finally broke the weird silence between us. "Sounds good to me. Pack up" I said and walked back to the car to wait for her. She didn't take long at all and by the time she joined me, I could have sworn that she was a wolf. Beautiful, dainty, and perfect. Just the perfect distraction for me.

There, he saw his instructor covering his mouth completely as if trying not to smell a bit of that perfume. Raia immediately understood what it meant when he saw his dark red eyes of Rayven. He was about to close the door, but it was already too late. It was only a matter of seconds when a loud noise was heard after his body fell to the ground. Rayven caught his head and lifted it slightly, trying not to make any more unnecessary noise. "Oppsss," After a second, Rayven removed the handkerchief covering his nose and looked at Raia, who was now in his hands.

he whispers. "Yeah, for now. I'll tell you later." I mumble an answer, a smile on my face at his concern, "Remove your shirt now." "Nah, I want to keep on-" "Or I am going to rip it off for you." Damian raises his hands in defense before unbuttoning his shirt in front of me. One of my hands tightly clench the duvet under me, staring at how inch by inch his body gets revealed, showing the deep curves of his defined abs, his hairless chest and- oh god-

“ Evil, like a darkness lurking deep within my soul. It takes over piece by piece until it consumes you entirely, leaving nothing but darkness. It turns you into someone you don’t want to be. Your thoughts and actions are no longer your own.” I watched him closely as he explained, hearing the fear in his voice. I felt a pang of sympathy. He seemed in so much pain. Without realizing it, I placed my hand over his, giving it a slight squeeze. He looked up, startled. I quickly pulled my hand away, but he reached out, taking it back and staring deep into my eyes. It seemed he wanted to say something but decided against it and looked away. “ Sorry,” he said, releasing my hand and sulking back into

And then, silence. A scream shattered the dusk. Not Ridge. Not Luna. Something inhuman. They came from the trees—figures cloaked in rot and shadows, twisted armor etched with claws and blood-writ glyphs. Hollow pack. Their stench struck first—metal turned sour, flesh long spoiled. Trisha moved before command was called. Her axe unslung in one motion, she veered left into the shadows where screams grew sharper. Serin roared, “West line! Fall to the crest!” even as Ridge archers loosed arrows overhead.

The silence in your room was a physical weight. Julian Thorne stood by the window, his silhouette cutting a sharp, dark line against the familiar light of your curtains. He was no longer a silver avatar; he was a man of bone, blood, and heavy breathing. His dark t-shirt was damp with the sweat of the transition, and the way he looked at your bookshelf—with a mixture of awe and strategic calculation—made the "Simulation" feel like a fever dream that had finally broken.

They weren’t surrounding me; they were encircling me, a living, breathing shield. Silas, without breaking eye contact with the murmuring crowd, shrugged off his heavy leather jacket. The movement was fluid, casual, as if he did it every day. He draped it over my shoulders, the worn leather smelling faintly of his particular scent, of wolf and something uniquely *him*. The oversized sleeves swallowed my trembling hands, hiding them, hiding me. It was a small gesture, but it felt enormous, warm and protective.