The Beast Must Die Book Novels & Stories

Chapter 15 Beast *** Content Warning: This chapter might contain violence, abuse, crime, or triggering factors that may be harmful, disturbing, or traumatizing to some. Reader discretion is advised. Thank you. *** POV: Shea Vestine - Thorne “Oh, gosh! I really can’t believe what happened last night!” Carrie exaggeratedly exclaimed as she sat beside her on the huge rock near the riverbank.

I mumbled when I saw a girl at my bedside. Is she an angel? She was sleeping peacefully. Her blonde hair fitted her facial features perfectly she looked like a fairytale main lead. I stopped studying her face when I noticed the book beside her. Βιβλίο θεραπείας Vivlío therapeías (BOOK OF HEALING) As a medical student my inner thoughts won so I grabbed the book and browsed what was inside. "Bingo!" I mumbled to myself when I saw the contents because I saw the spell connected with the 'Flower of Iris'.

“Go, Mirabel.” She pushed the door open and vanished into the shadows of the servant’s corridor. I stood in the middle of the room, clutching the book to my chest. I was alone again. But as I looked at the bite on my neck in the mirror, I realized that for the first time, the "beast" wasn't the thing I was most afraid of. It was the people who were supposed to love me and the fact that even if I survived pretending I wouldn't survive when it came to actually fulfilling my duties as a mate.

I never thought I would be encountering vampire and wolves in my life. Seeing that gigantic beast, the thoughts of death ran in my mind. Death never crossed the path of my mind after I got to use my power but right now, it was making me anxious to the hell. " Wait, please," I said. What the hell am I speaking? And with whom? It's a beast. It couldn't even understand me. Should I make myself vanish from there? I didn't learn to do that though. What should I do? But before I could even think, he grabbed the child in my hand and threw him to the ground. The child rolled down as he threw him.

If I die here, at least it is trying to save my friend from himself. If he kills me at least he would first of all devour me and that will give innocent victims a chance to get away. He would spend a lot of time eating me, and logically that would reduce the amount of people he would attack. If he regains his consciousness, he would not hate himself for killing too many people The beast launches forward, moving faster than my eyes can track. I brace myself for the impact, for the pain that will follow. But it never comes. At a point I think I am dead already, but I died out of shock not his impact on me

CHAPTER-1 ‘DONALD POV’ “ Sir Donald here’s the list of those person who killed your Mother "I looked at Jimbe when I heard him speak. I couldn't stop gripping the mini glass full of whiskey that I’m holding because of my excessive restraint of anger while looking at the lists of people who killed my Mother, How do they live happily and peace despite the crime they did? What if I do that to the people they love in life? will they live happily and peacefully like today?

“She should have been smarter.” I spun, rage surging so violently I nearly swung at him. My hands shook. My vision blurred red around the edges. “You killed her,” I spat. Damon tilted his head. “The beast killed her. You chose to push her.” My breath shattered. “I saved her.” He smiled slowly. “From your death, perhaps. But not hers.” My stomach twisted with nausea. Kaden slammed the beast into the wall again, golden fur streaked with blood. Kael lunged at its throat, ripping shadow apart. The stranger tore through its spine. Darius drove his blade into its center.

Ooh, his beautiful name. I can sense the angels beckoning at me with empathy from heaven. I can also hear the demons making a mockery of my predicaments. The hell has broken loose, and I can heed the boisterous howls of death calling for me. This, indeed, is the death of me. Again, why is he doing this? And Mr. handsome overloaded, the God of beauty himself, what is it with him?

I did everything to be a good friend, only to be treated as my so-called best friend’s scapegoat. When her husband found cigarette ash in their house, she claimed I was the one smoking. When she snuck off for a private rendezvous with her lover, she told him she was celebrating my birthday. And when she got pregnant, she pinned the blame on me again, declaring I was consumed with jealousy—that I had spiked her drink and hired someone to violate her. Enraged, her husband marched to my doorstep wielding a blade and hacked me to death. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the exact day she had asked me to cover for her affair.

If I told him, there’d be no reason to keep me alive. “I can get it out of you, but it’s easier on you if you just tell me.” A tear spilled down my cheek, lip trembling. “I don’t want to die.” My voice, even forced, was barely above a whisper. “Everybody dies.” I didn’t know to take that as a generalization, or that everyone he came into contact with died. He offered no words, no sense of remorse, and the quiet resumed. We hit over three hours of painful silence, with the exception of my crying. I wanted to enjoy the scenery, but the situation wouldn’t allow it. At least I would’ve had beautiful images as the last thing I saw instead of the gruesome ones from the lab.