The Wicked King Novels & Stories

It was hard to believe that the person they had just entrusted the kingdom to had just betrayed their trust once again, becoming their worst nightmare. King Rico continued… "I infected the wine with werewolf blood, and now you all are turning into werewolves one after the other," the king continued. "But do not worry, my dear citizens, for I have a plan to turn this situation to our advantage. I will gradually bring all of you under my control and make sure that you never again hate or dare to challenge my authority as your king. " People stared at each other, unable to believe what they were hearing. Some shook their heads in disbelief, while others stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed by fe

I smirked while playing with my scythe, eyeing him intently. He is Warrick, the King of the Demon Kingdom, who was blessed directly by the Demon God and undefeated for centuries. He had killed and slave humans while taking advantage of their weaknesses. This demon should be punished. Then, King Desmond and Vladimir—the fake King of the witches, joined the giant demon. I smirked as I read King Desmond's and Vladimir's mind. Vladimir said, 'Tsk. This girl is weak.' "Don't underestimate me, Vladimir," I said but didn't look at him and he was dumbfounded.

He immediately raised his face and looked at Queen Isabell. "What do you mean, Queen Isabell?" King Van De Fretas asked. "You look very pathetic, King Van De Fretas. Do I need to do it one more time?" Queen Isabell asked with a sneer. King Van De Fretas wanted to scold Queen Isabell but somehow he lost the strength to do so. "King Van De Fretas. I thought you were a king known for your kindness and wisdom, but I was wrong. You have become a wicked king." Queen Isabell said in a very firm tone. The words she spoke seemed to have stabbed the heart of King Van De Fretas. The king's mouth seemed to be locked. He was silent without a word. It was as if he allowed himself to be judged by Queen Isa

“I don’t know who he was, but his men jokingly called themselves “The Seditious.” “Yea, yea!” Mr. Weldon recalled. Pointing to Bast animatedly. “And they called him ‘King’.” His hand fell. “Was odd…Not Yer Highness or anything fancy. Just ‘My King.’.” “Bast!” The Nauvree barked from behind him. Lurched up enough to stand on the bench. He waved his arm frantically to summon his twin. What now? Bast strode to him. “They’re talking about the King of Assassins.”

I laugh. She blush and return to her seat. "Nanaboozhoo?" I yelled on the counter. As a flash, King was besides me. "Don't go inside. Call the cops." He says with his eyes red. Literally red. "What?!" I asked, afraid. "Ziigwan, listen to me. Call the Sheriff. I'll go inside. Do you trust me?" He looks deep into my eyes. His eyes red as blood. All the black gone.

His mind was spinning with guilt, shame… and dark, forbidden desire. He knew he should kick Ethan out tomorrow. But deep down, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

saving crops from pestilence, healing children with horrible flesh-eating diseases, and stopping wars before they began. Other stories called him a wicked sorcerer, full of guile and mischievousness. They said he'd gone mad, that his only joy came from bringing misery to others. The story of the king and his twelve sons was in the histories as well, alongside a story where Jaffar killed every last villager in a town called Ashanda for no apparent reason.

She looked nothing like the refined goddess she usually was. Hearing the commotion, the neighbors all opened their doors to see what was going on. "Hey, isn't that Joanna? Why was she kicked out?" "I heard she was cheating on her husband, got pregnant with a b*stard child, and is trying to steal his house." "How shameless! She always seemed so proper." The neighbors' pointing fingers filled Joanna with shame and rage. She glared at me venomously, grabbed two bags, and ran away disgracefully.

The Lord looked into the dark eyes with unimaginable tenderness and longing. - You haven't forgiven. Why? - he whispered in despair. William, whose soul was filled with the essence of the Black Moon Goddess, remained silent. The young man moved aside the hand that held the hilt of the Night Raven. A swing of the black sword - and the king's head rolled along the bloody floor. The headless body collapsed, dousing the brunette in scarlet splashes and leaving streaks of blood on his skin. William's face showed indifference. He looked at the corpse of the tyrant who had poisoned their lives for so many years. The villain whom they did not dare to hope for, but dreamed of defeating, and made an a

Steam swirls in the opulent chamber, the scent of chamomile lingering in the air and my mind wanders through the labyrinth of lies spun by my detested uncle, the king. As the palace servants meticulously wash me, their eyes averted, I stare at my own half-naked reflection in the mirror. I'm not disabled; it's a fabrication concocted by my uncle's twisted mind, fueled by his hatred and fear. The king seeks to undermine me, to strip away any sense of power or influence I might possess. He's afraid of what I could do to him. But it's time to reclaim my power, turn the tables on my enemies, and catch them off guard. Alistair, my loyal beta werewolf, stands guard outside the chamber, a silent gua