The Nine Eyes Of Lucien Mga Nobela at Kwento

, Jamie who wasn't expecting that subconsciously let out a moan. That little response made Lucien turn harder, Lucien sighed. Raising his face to look at the mirror, his eyes held mismatched color, his normal blue eyes and his real nature red eyes He was having an inner battle between desire and instinct “I just don't know what's happening to me around you, I feel strange and always in an inner combat with reasoning and desires," Lucien mumbled and looked down at the culprit. Lucien released his pheromones, the entire room was saturated with the scent of Obsidian Thorn, dark, seductive, and laced with something undeniably dangerous. Jamie felt his body tremble, instinctively reacting to the

His head whipped around sharply, his grey eyes scanning the hall with a sudden, wild alertness. He inhaled again—deep, slow, reverent. And then his eyes found Elora. Time froze. The room went utterly silent as Lucien’s breath left him in a ragged exhale. His pupils dilated, and his entire body stiffened like a struck chord. His voice, when it came, was raw. Disbelieving. “…Maye?” Elora turned at the sound. Confusion knitted her brow. “What?” But Lucien was already moving—fast, unhesitating, a predator drawn by instinct.

Didn’t lash out. The man turned to him with a grin—one that looked silly but didn’t feel that way anymore. Then he stepped in close. Too close. Hands behind his back, leaning in with an air of casual inspection. The playful glint in his eye dimmed. And then… His eyes lit up. Violet. Bright. Unnatural. Like two dying stars caught in a void. Lucien didn’t flinch. But his jaw tightened. His shoulders tensed. He didn’t say a word.

Lucien put a small smile on his lips, before looking at Eugene, who was looking at him in surprise “I expected that you knew your mate better than us, but it is clear that you do not know anything about her. Do you think that someone with her intelligence would be able to place stones in a peaceful place like the Blue Mountains?” He looked at him in astonishment, while Lucien stood quietly looking at the place that seemed to be filled with fog, which made Eugene jump back, looking at what was around him with astonishment and worry about what would happen. "Fuck what's going on here?" “You should ask your mate this , she's the one who sent us to this place.” Lucien said as he took out his fie

In my hands, the small crystal globe flickered softly… glowing with faint, shifting light. Lena called it a dragon’s eye. Said it could mirror whatever I wanted to see, as long as the energy around it stayed stable. Stable…. Right. The image inside was a blur of sand and movement…. Orion, standing at the center of the arena surrounded by unconscious wolves. The camera, or whatever dragon magic this thing used, zoomed on its own, focusing on the balcony. And there he was. Lucien Silver. I clenched my jaw, the memory of what his pack did flashing through my mind.

"Impossible..." I frowned. "What's wrong?" "The eyes... The same shape..." He put on his glasses with a shaking hand. "He has the eyes." The room was quiet. I turned to Lucien. His face was hard. "Leave." Lucien's voice was sharp. The old man jumped. "My lord, I only meant—" "Leave," Lucien repeated. The old vampire grabbed his case, bowed quickly, and backed into the elevator without looking at me. The doors slid shut.

he added, “wrapped across the lower face. Only the eyes exposed. No other skin.” The image formed instantly… figures swallowed by night, indistinguishable from shadow itself. Ronan gave a slow nod. “Ghosts.” Something curved at Lucien’s lips. It wasn’t a smile. It was colder than that… sharp and satisfied. “Yes,” he said softly. “Ghosts.” Then Lucien turned back to Lyra, his attention narrowing with lethal focus. “I need structure,” he said calmly. “Details. Distances.” His gaze held hers, unyielding.

It drops instantly. Octavius is a blur beside me, clawing through three at once like he’s possessed. But his movements are different this time—frenzied. Sloppy. He’s not focused. Because he knows who’s coming. Lucien. Another voice rings out through the trees—this one feminine. Cold. Smooth like poison poured over silk. “Let’s not keep the family waiting.” Lilith. My heart skips. And then I see him. Lucien steps into the clearing like a god returning to a throne. Tall, black coat dragging behind him, long dark hair slicked back, ice-blue eyes cutting through us like blades. He walks with the arrogance of someone who knows he won’t lose. And maybe he won’t.

Lucien's gaze remained fixed on Cynthia until she disappeared behind the closed door. Only then did he slowly retract his eyes, turning his attention to Jacqueline. Though his expression bore no hint of anger, there was an unmistakable pressure in his gaze that made the air feel stifling. Jacqueline's heart clenched violently, her breath quickening. For a brief moment, she felt as if she had been reduced to nothing in Lucien's eyes—like a piece of worthless trash. Her legs trembled involuntarily.