Romans & histoires Sinister Eyes

Man. The monster snapped its eyes open instilling so much fear in Claude he could feel his heartbeat in his throat as a steady deep throb. It's eyes were a bright and cruel shade of vermillion that seemed to direct all of its hate and maternal rage at him. Like the summoning of magical constraints, fear gripped him and held him in place as the eyes ripped through him with a never ending icy heat...the Redwoods just became worlds more dangerous.

They were lidless, disembodied eyes! Leesa shut down her telekinesis and the eyes stopped moving, hanging suspended ten or twelve inches in front of her now. She felt her own eyes grow wide with surprise and horror as the three pairs of eyeballs fixed their gaze upon her. They were a pale, grayish blue color—the exact same color as Dominic’s eyes! She couldn’t know for sure, but she suspected these eyes had once belonged to the wizards the Necromancer and his black waziri henchmen had murdered. Somehow, the evil mage had trapped them here inside his table. She prayed that Dominic had not suffered a similar fate.

Michael said looking at Gage. “What did he look like?” Gage asked. “I don’t know, he had a hood on, and he wouldn’t remove it, he had dark red eyes.” She said shaking her head. “He scared me, he told me they were going to use a ritual to summon me and sacrifice me.” She said with tears rolling down her face. “Please Jade I don’t want to be here anymore, can't we go home?”

When I didn't answer him, he gently grasped my shoulders, pulled me against him and gently lifted my face to look at me. His soft eyes, swirling with concern, turned dark. Like a seething storm descending upon the serene ocean of his emotions, his eyes turned black, dark, sinister. Flames burned in the depth of his eyes as he trailed his fingers down my jaw. "Who did this, Bella?"

Hearing your thoughts and seeing what you can see… What's the difference? I did not reply. I merely showed her what the difference was. In front of Snowie's stunned gaze, I thrust my finger into my right eye and forcibly plucked my eyeball out. Of course, there would not be blood or gore. After all, my right eye was a prosthetic.

His stormy grey eyes, which resembled the fierceness of the hawk, glinted with sinister possession. His eyes were speaking things that he wasn't saying. Dark. Sinister. Observing. Waiting. Hungry. Freya looked away as she felt heat rising at the spot where he had marked her. “You’re awake,” he said. Low. Controlled. But his voice frayed at the edges, raw from whatever he'd battled to get her back. And she didn't believe any of it at all. He was her enemy. The one who had made the Omegas live a living hell.

His eyes looked like the gold that represented Mother's eyes smelted into the dark Moon that represented the evil Deity Moon Slave. These elements made his eyes appealing, but mostly threateningly lulling. The slim, and fox shape of the lids around eyes, made them even more dangerous upto of intriguing. They gave him the air of a Noble Scholar secretly plotting the downfall of his own King. ….. Scary. Her eyes traced on his unique features. The familiar feeling of curiosity spasmed through her as she appraised him. The jawline framed like a V, sharp as an illustration of a man. She watched his lips pull up into a crooked smile– a smirk? The blood red muscle, as red as the apple she held in h

He beams evilly, his fingers wrapped around my neck, "You can't run away from Papa. You know that better than anyone, don't you?" "P-please s-stop!" I choke on a sob as his hold only got fiercer, "you are h-hurting me." "Shut up!" He growls, slamming my head against the wall. "P-please, Papa." I whimper in agony, while his talons dig deeper into the skin of my neck. "I begged you that day, didn't I?" He releases a dark chuckle, and I gasp in fright when a single drop of sun's rays falls on his eyes. The eyes are like a black hole of never-ending doom; so sinister I fear them more than the owner.

I demanded, my voice dropping into that ragged, double-toned scrap of my sovereign authority as I forced myself to stand, my knees trembling but locking in place. The commander raised a gloved hand, slowly unlocking the clasps of his silver visor. As he pulled the metal away, my heart stopped. He didn't have the golden eyes of our pack, or the pale blue eyes of the northern outcasts. His eyes were entirely pitch-black, the sclera and pupils fused into a solid, liquid void—the exact same terrifying, bottomless black that Killian’s eyes became when his feral wolf took complete control.