The Tyrant's Tranquilizer Novel Novels & Stories

Tyr is saying something, but Rene cannot understand his incoherent whispers; his feverish condition is getting worse, and in the next moment, Tyr's body starts to convulse uncontrollably, yet he continues to grip Rene's hand firmly. "G--go away! H-he's here," "Who is here, Tyr?" Rene looks around the tent, trying to find Tyr's interest. His worried gaze returns to Tyr to see the thick burst of blood that pours out from his nostrils. The whites around his eyes have turned a dull purplish grey as another round of the toxic attack takes hold of him. "Don't try to speak! Please stay still!" Rene cries, Soral is yet to return with the herbs, and Rene feels utterly useless as he holds Tyr's intens

I raise my eyes to his, his grip tightened on my jaw. “Camilla,” I said. His smirk deepened. “A nice name… for a pretty doll.” Then his hand left me, and only then did I realize I was shaking all over, my knees weak, my lungs heavy like stone. I had tried to show him I wasn’t scared, but he saw through me. He saw everything. Who wouldn’t fear him? Alpha Lennox Steele. The Pack Slayer, one of the many names the people had given him, The Tyrant. The man who turned villages into ash and left bones for wolves to gnaw. The one mothers whispered about in the dark to keep their children silent.

Her knees buckled as her vision blurred. The Tyrant was analyzing her directly now. Her patterns, her anchor and even her very existence. “No…no…no,” she whispered. Her threads began to flicker. Quickly stabilizing. She instantly became predictable again. The worst possible outcome. The Tyrant’s eye pulsed at her. It now understood her. And once it understood, it could easily erase. But strangely, something inside her resisted and fought back relentlessly. The anchor flared violently. Not in control, but in defiance.

He doesn’t ever leave his little fortress of perceived safety and just seems to be taking quiet walks by himself through the gardens. Once the sun dips behind the mountains, allowing the darkness of night to consume the world, I head back to the Underworld. I make my way back to one of my safehouses, drop my assassin outfit in a locked chest under the floorboard, then discretely leave as Tiffany Baxter, the cute, shy, quiet lady with the green eyes, short stature, and platinum blonde hair dressed in casual clothing with tennis shoes. I go to the house I mainly reside at as Tiffany, which is quite a shithole, but it keeps the rain that leaks through the ceiling of the underground out. I spend

Her jaw clenched. A faint tremor ran through her hand. This wasn’t just exposure. This was control. Someone had built this narrative piece by piece. Another notification slid in. Then another. Like knives, one after another. "𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗚𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗜𝗟𝗧 𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗕𝗦𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗢𝗡? 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗢𝗡 𝗢𝗙 𝗗𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗟 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗘𝗡𝗢𝗟𝗔 𝗦� �𝗔𝗥𝗞"

I knew I wouldn't be able to get anything done now. “You requested for us, my lord?” Malakai stood by the door. His shirt was neat and impeccable and his salt and pepper hair was trimmed short. He looked composed as always. He walked in and Elias walked in after him. “I need you to explain something to me,” I growled. “Why does that tyrant’s daughter think I want to lay with her?” I noticed that both of them didn't look surprised at the revelation. “She's only doing what she's supposed to do”. Malakai said curtly.

“But you and him, it would be different. Tyrith always did what you asked him. I bet he would come if you asked him. No, if you call him right now and say ‘Tyrith, I need you’, he would be here faster than the speed of light. If they locked the two of you in a room, Tyrith would let you dominate him. But what I can’t stop trying to imagine is how he looks in bed. Do those round eyes glow with his arousal? Does his smooth whisky colored skin get red? Do his cheeks get flush? Those lips. Perfect lips. They always were red. Do they get crimson when he’s kissed? What do his pheromones smell like when he’s turned on? Does he let it loose or does he conserve it? What…” I tried not to hear what els

Nothing worked and tears began stinging her eyes. That bitch! Maya gritted underneath her breath, her body trembling. Her heart felt like they had been sliced open, all her negative emotions rushing up to the surface at once.Feeling faint, Maya sagged on the floor,her body shaking. It took a while for her to finally be in control of her body. Staring at her trembling fingers, Maya bit her lips. That bitch words has had the desired effect on her and now more than anything, she was terrified of loosing Dexter. The thought of being away from Dexter filled her dread and almost made her throw up.

Please. She flashes a picture into my brain—a small white wolf dangling from a collar, lifeless in mid-air, its neck snapped. My toes dig into the dirt. The foul drink sloshes in my stomach, scoring my esophagus. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to give in to the fear. Lenox and Smith come to stand in front of me, arms crossed, faces undisturbed. Clinical. Smith raises the taser. Without thinking, I jerk my torso away and lose my footing. I gag as my toes scramble for purchase, and by the time I steady myself, blood is roaring in my ears. The men watch me impassively, Smith’s thin lips curving in amusement.

He reached out and laid his hand on Rowan's chest; a concentrated string of violet and black energy poured out of his chest and onto Tyndale's arm shortly after. And from distance, the audience could see the flicker of life in his eyes fade away, his legs stopped kicking, and his hands fell away from the tyrant's grip. He eventually collapsed to the ground, lifeless. “Do you really refuse to acknowledge me as your ruler?” He screamed again.