Skyrim The Pale Blade

Having a perfect mate is obviously the greatest wish of every werewolf,but what becomes the outcome when you receive the direct opposite of such wish and fantasies. Damien Dark, the young Alpha prince of the red blood pack,in search of his mate inorder to attain the role of the pack's alpha right after his father's death. Fate plays an expensive trick of hers, mating prince Damien alongside Kara Dugan, immediate daughter to Kyle Dugan,leader of the black eagles werewolf Hunter clan. A hunter clan popularly known for their brutality and hatred towards werewolves. Hundreds of werewolf packs has fallen and gone extinct by their toxin blade's and so has the red blood pack earn countless attacks, losses and destruction from this clan, creating a formidable and everlasting hatred between both pack's and clan. Will Damien and Kara both accept their persuasive inner mate bonds, setting aside the long emminity harboured between both clans?. With both clans and packs permit their love, setting aside their historical hatred?. Also what becomes Kara's fate when her long hidden secret relating one of red bloods greatest loss gets unveiled. Will both lovers bond remain firm or brew up more wars and heightened hatred between both clans?. Will Damien result to killing her to please his pack or follow his instincts? With they both conquer such obstacle alongside thousands more?. Find out?

Seven years ago, I ignored my girlfriend's heart-wrenching pleas and ruthlessly severed our relationship. Now, after seven long years, she had risen to the top—and she was back, ready for her wedding. She didn't come home for mere celebration, though. She came for revenge. She obliterated the company my father had spent his entire life building and did not stop until she shattered his leg, forcing him to endure unimaginable pain. It was all so I'd be forced to go to her wedding and beg for forgiveness. But that wasn't enough. She wanted more. She hissed, brandishing a blade, "If Matthew's not here in ten minutes, I'll slice off a finger for every minute he's late." My autistic brother's fingers, the only way he could create art, became a bargaining chip in her sadistic game. Dad's anguished cries filled the air as he pleaded for mercy, but she was not done. She wanted to tear my family apart piece by piece. My mom, fragile and trapped in the haze of Alzheimer's, was next. Her mind, already slipping, crumbled under the relentless torment. She cracked, completely lost to the madness. With tears streaming down his face, Dad said, "My son died the day you left for abroad."

"S-stay away from me." She stammered while moving her steps backward just to hit the edge of the table. "Why would I do that?" He placed his hands on her either side surrounding her in his woody scent. She couldn't help but took a deep breath. "It's my p-personal space." She turned her face towards the bookshelf beside the table as he leaned his face closer. "Hmm..." He hummed as her whole body shuddered when he started tracing her jugular vein with his nose. Her mouth was dry as the aura of his scent was gone and fear conquered her body. "You are my personal thing too." He groaned jerking her towards him by her waist. "L-lea..." Her lips couldn't form the words as he captured her soft lips in a swift. ←→ Ara Smith, daughter of a priest, drowned in innocence. She is a 19 years old girl with a cheeky smile but she didn't get the chance to smile much after her father's death. ‹› Gareth Blade, a 31 years old mafia billionaire is another name for a nightmare. No one dares to match his stoned gaze that reflects his stoned heart. He can own the things that ever attracts his eyes but this time his eyes didn't fall on something but someone.

This isn't a love story, but almost a love story. Irina and Eric share a world through dreams and time travel. They have a strong mutual understanding about the feelings they have for each other, at the same time understanding that they cannot be together. Eric: I open my eyes and find myself standing alone in an empty room. The ceilings and the walls are neatly painted white. And the floor is composed of polished light brown wood. And there is a dark brown framed window at one corner where the light comes from. A bright yellow and pale red orange light tells me the sun is setting and soon it will be dark. Eric is a ghost who always appears in Irina's dream. Irina: I open the door to the bedroom. There is a dark brown framed window at one corner where the light is coming from. The yellow orange light passes through the open window. I see Eric standing right there on the spot captured by the yellow light. ‘You came back.’ I said. He stood there looking me in the eye. I almost died. Irina is a time traveler who may or may not change his fate. They alternatively tell a bitter sweet story. Love doesn't always mean together, sometimes it is deeper apart. Eric: I stand alone in the rain looking at the dark sky where all I can see is water, for it is both the rain and my tears flowing to my face. Irina: And suddenly it is no longer my reflection I see inside the mirror. What I see now is a figure of a man. I draw closer to see him clearly. But the closer I walk towards him, the farther I become from him. I couldn't get close.

It was only on our first wedding anniversary that I realized the rubbers I bought before our wedding had long expired. No one would believe that my mafia husband, Andre Garcia, and I had never consummated our marriage. That night, I gathered my courage and bought a suggestive nightgown. After downing three glasses of whisky, I hugged Andre tightly and whispered in his ear, "Darling, let's do it today. I want you..." However, Andre shook my hand off indifferently as if he were handling a gun. "Danielle Lawson, do you have no shame? You've done such shameless things time and time again. If you're really that lonely, I'll order you some toys so you can play with them to your heart's content." My face turned deathly pale as I stood there, stunned. I could not understand why a wife begging for her husband's affection was considered 'shameless' behavior. I curled up on the couch, unable to help but ask on social media. Danielle: [My husband has no dysfunction. Why won't he touch me after marriage?] Someone replied: [Perhaps your husband has someone else.] Like a dagger, that comment pierced me awake. I suddenly realized—maybe the problem was not that I was unattractive but rather that he was never mine. The moment I deleted my account, I also made the decision to leave. Who could have imagined that Andre, who would usually not even glance at me, would frantically search for me after I disappeared? "Danielle, I can't get a hard-on after you left!"

He was told to protect me and yet I want him to ruin me. “Zyran?” He didn’t turn. “What is it, Myra?” I took a shaky breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Our arrangement. I want to understand my part in it.” Finally he turned. His pale eyes gleamed in the dim light, his gaze fixed on me so intently, it felt like a predator tracking its prey. “Your part is to be my wife and mine to give you protection.” “But you are the only one giving. I want to give you something too.” “I’m tired of being just a painting on the wall,” I whispered, stepping closer to him, the air crackling with so much tension, I may have forgotten how to breathe. “You're my husband. In every way, so I want you to teach me.” A muscle ticked in his jaw, his eyes darkening with every word I said. “Teach you what?” “Pleasure.” I said, biting down on my lip out of sheer nervousness “Your kind of pleasure. Show me what you like. Let me learn how to touch you. Let me make you feel something…” I agreed to marry Zyran Theon because he was my brother’s best friend and by far the safest option. A year of cold indifference seemed better than a lifetime of horror. However I never expected to find a man shattered by his own psyche and a constant repression of his urges to claim me and even worse I never expected to want him too.

“Your name?” a woman who’s wearing a dress, has pale lips and short hair asked me. I stuttered. “L-Livia Washington, ma’am,” I answered. “My husband and I can’t produce a child. I need your help and in exchange, I will reward you with money at your price. Just help me…” she said, her face screaming desperation and almost pleading. Without further hesitation, I nodded my head. “Just tell me what you want me to do, Ma’am…” I didn’t know that an offer I would be accepting would ruin the pipe dream I yearned for. Money. I need money. Surrogacy is the only quick way to get a billion dollars just like what they offered. However, things didn’t go the way I liked. “You came out with a woman again?” I busted out in anger after waiting for Archer to come home. He only scoffed, he was supposed to come upstairs yet I held his hand. “Just to remind you, Archer, you still have a wife waiting for you!” His jaw clenched then took his arms roughly. “Then you should have thought of your husband before cheating on me, and bearing someone else’s child, then, Livia!” he backfired, critically narrowing his eyes on mine. Being married to Archer for five years never became easy. I’m tired of it and was tormented with the punishment he had given to me. “A divorce won’t happen, Livia. I won’t give you the freedom you want. This is your punishment,” he narrowed his rough, stoic voice before coming to his room directly.

On my birthday, I proposed a family trip to the northern grasslands. My younger sister, Clara Harrington, who was studying in the southern territory, decided to drive through the forest to meet up with us. But unexpectedly, she was attacked by Rogue wolves in the woods, and her body was never found. My parents, Oscar Harrington and Margaret Vale, placed all the blame on me for her death and cast me out of the family. Overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow, I left the pack to atone for my sins. I took on odd jobs to earn money to send home, all while searching for any trace of Clara. Three years later, I found myself in the southern territory and began working as a delivery runner for a forest cafe. One day, while delivering an order to Werewolf Academy, I saw my parents and Clara standing at the school gate. She said, "Dad, Mom, Adeline has been wandering for three years. Shouldn't we let her come home?" But my mother replied calmly, "She is too selfish. It's only right that she suffers a little. We can bring her back once she realizes her mistakes." My father nodded in agreement. "Let her wander for another year. We'll bring her home next year." I clutched my stomach, my face pale as I forced out a bitter laugh. Three years of exhaustion had left me gravely ill. My wolf was gone, and I only had three days left to live. I could't wait until next year for my father to come and take me home.

My blood-mate, Lord Lucien, found out. I gave the “Moonlight Blood” treaty, the one I bled to secure with the werewolf packs, to his new pet, Celeste. He thought it was the result of his decade of cold neglect. A sign I had finally shattered. So, he offered to take me to the centennial Crimson Feast in Venice. But when Celeste heard, she flew into a jealous rage and threatened to leave his clan. Lucien, who catered to her every whim, panicked. He spent three days and nights soothing her ego, even giving her his prized Elder Blood. Then he left me behind again, using a border skirmish with our rivals as an excuse. He gave her my invitation—the only one. Later, he explained himself, lounging on his sarcophagus with a careless air. "Love is a luxury we can't always afford, Octavia. The clan's survival is everything. I am their Lord. I have responsibilities." "You are my blood-mate, Octavia," he said. "You'll support me. Won't you?" A thrall presented a magic mirror. In it, Celeste pressed her pale cheek against Lucien’s shoulder. They embraced under the moonlight, their lips meeting as they exchanged blood. I said nothing. I just nodded. Lucien thought I had finally learned my place. A satisfied smirk curled his lips as he promised to buy my silence with a trinket from his private collection when he returned. But he didn't know. I had already cut ties with the clan. And he had already signed the dissolution papers with his own blood. There was no "us" anymore.

I was sent to evaluate him. Now, he’s the one judging my soul. As a psychologist for the Pacific Behavioral Unit, I deal with the most dangerous shifters in the Territories. But Mason Cross isn’t just a prisoner. He’s the King of the West Coast, a lethal Alpha with emerald eyes that don’t just look at me—they strip me bare. One mistake in a silver-lined cell, and I’m no longer the doctor. I’m the prey. When a night at the Velvet Moon turns into a bloodbath, Mason doesn't just save me—he claims me. He hauls me to his brutalist fortress on the cliffs, a world of glass, salt, and ancient wolf laws. He says he’s protecting me from the Lunar Syndicate. He says I’m his prisoner for my own safety. But as his hands find the curve of my waist and his teeth graze the pulse point of my throat, I realize the "Mask of Civility" is slipping. Behind the tailored suits and the CEO title is a beast that hasn't fed in a long time. I have a silver blade in my stays and a secret in my blood that could burn the Territories to the ground. But when the moon rises over the Cross Estate, I don’t want to run. I want to see if the King of the Ferals bites as hard as he barks. High stakes. Raw instinct. A love that draws blood.