Trilby Novels & Stories

Trish’s POV: The sight that awaited me in what was supposed to be my matrimonial bedroom—in just three days time—was… shocking, to say the least. Declan took his precious time untangling his naked self from an equally naked Evelyn Trimble, daughter of CEO Morgan Trimble, owner of Trimble Corp, one of the biggest fashion brand in the company, and my… bestfriend. I took one shaky step into the room, not caring that the wine I’d brought with me had long since escaped my grip and had shattered on the rugged floor of my bedroom. Our bedroom.

If only she knew who was trailing her. I slipped into a fitting room with ease, disguised in a fitted jacket and dark jeans, my hair tucked under a beanie. I had spent years learning how to blend in, how to move like a shadow in a world full of noise. I wasn’t just some woman hunting a target, I am the queen of the sea. People trembled at the mention of my name and today, Trina is my target. Trina struts past me, oblivious. The guards flanked her, a few steps behind, their eyes scanning the crowds. They thought they were the ones protecting her, keeping her safe from the world but they couldn’t protect her from me. Not today, not ever.

The desire to mate with each other intensified. Triana stepped back further as Blaze approached her. She almost yelped when her back struck the wall. She clasped the hem of the towel when she saw him inching further towards her. "Who are you?" Blaze asked, taking another step towards her. He cocked his head and gave her an inquisitive look. "Are you a spy from the rogue gang?" Triana shook her head slowly. "I am neither a rogue nor a spy," she said, her voice faltering. His proximity made her nervous. But she put on a brave face and asserted, "I told you that I’m a lone wolf."

Alex’s voice was the only one that mattered now, and he made sure everyone knew it. Lara, who had always been close to Lila, couldn’t help but notice the change in her as well. Lila, once kind and compassionate, had taken on a new persona—a mirror image of her husband’s arrogance. As the Luna of Tribiano, she seemed to revel in her new status, looking down on others with a haughty expression. Her interactions with Lara grew colder with each passing day.

She dialed a contact number on her call logs. "Honey, someone almost stabbed me with a scalpel about ten minutes ago. I need to know who it was. Please help me," Trixie spoke her petitions straightforwardly. "Thank you, honey!" Trixie did not make her words clear on purpose. She was sure Don Carlo, now considered a husband without the matrimony of marriage, her partner, live in or out, would never let this thing go lightly. Trixie also wanted to know who was after her dear Trisha.

When the second body falls to her feet, she looks up at me, blood dripping down her chin, and her eyes slowly returning to her normal colours, though the red one only changes by a shade or two. “She’s a vampire?” We both turn to face the cell and I smirk at Xavier, “she’s a tribrid.” He scoffs, and all three of them shake their heads in disbelief. Aurora wipes the blood from her face with the back of her hand and glares at all of them. “I’m also your queen, so show me some fucking respect.” Fucking Nyx, she’s perfectly terrifying. Xavier’s pupils dilate in horror under her hardened gaze and the other two shrink back, avoiding her eyes.

I stood by the side of the road for a long time. The clouds were white. The sky was blue. Then I remembered something Mom used to say. "Avery, be kind—but don't be a pushover." Mom, I heard you. Did you see? *** On the flight to Antarctica, I leaned against the window and watched Paragon City shrink beneath the clouds until it vanished into the white. The girl beside me handed over a pack of tissues. "Miss, are you crying?" I touched my face and realized it was wet. "I'm fine." I took the tissues. "Thanks."

My fingers were an inch from Lucian's palm when the building's windows blew inward in a single synchronized crash and violet light flooded every room simultaneously and a voice came from everywhere and nowhere, a woman's voice amplified past human range into something that was more force than sound: THE TRIBRID MUST NOT CHOOSE YET. The floor ignited. Not fire — light. A massive sigil burned into the boards beneath all of our feet, the same symbol I had sketched after the vision, the same one in the coven archive, the same one on the pendant, except this was fifty feet across and moving. Lucian's hand was still open between us. My fingers were still an inch from his palm. Neither of us moved.

However, she manages to stay upright and regain her professionalism. “Don’t worry, dear,” Haley chuckles at her obvious distress, “This is not a forced mafia wedding … it’s consensual.” The woman blinks a time or two, clearly trying to figure out if she’s serious or not. “Eh … welcome,” she then greets. “I’m Trixy. Can we start with the fitting?” She’s tall and lean, looking like an older gray version of Zendaya. “We’re still waiting for one bridesmaid,” Haley informs her. She nods.

The rouge drained from his face. This day was too much for him. Too much. "Your name's not Peter! It's Mark something. Mark Shackleton. I'm good with names." "Well, you know how names are," he said shakily. "I get it! Hey, none of my beeswax! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, honey. If you want to know the truth, my name's not Lydia." He was speechless as he watched her strip off her black dress, showing all her black lacy gear underneath, talking