Trophy Line Onyx Novels & Stories

"Go get stuffed, you horny old bastard! I have a fated mate. I can feel him! Unless we reject each other, you will never be able to bond with us, no matter what you do!" Onyx carefully analyzed her chest and snickered bitterly as he saw the mate mark of a crescent moon glowing on her fair skin, "This is rather an unheard of development and here I was hoping you to be fair game for at least a year...how disappointing." He then released her and his eyes transformed back to his gray eyes.

I said coolly, “You're up.” Denmark grinned as he stepped forward, sliding his metallic case onto the table. “You wanted authenticity, Mr. Fox? I brought it. I went back to my roots–strong, bold, unapologetic designs. This line’s called Dominion. It's meant to represent the unyielding spirit of those who rise after defeat.” He opened the case dramatically. Inside were heavy gold chains, massive rings studded with oversized stones, and cuffs engraved with intricate flame patterns.

He looks at himself and at first he noticed nothing different and look closer untill he sees the gold in his eyes. 'Onyx what is this?' Landon asks in shock. ' I don't know, alot has changed but I don't know what Landon and it kind of bothers me' Onyx says not very happy. He pulls of his shirt and immediately sees the mark on his neck and he looks closer. The outline of two cats with their head against each other and wings on each side and it has a soft golden glow to it. "WHAT THE ACTUAL F&@#!" He shouts and rushes out to Jarek.

The ancient, untainted cellular metrics of the Midnight Eclipse bloodline flared, neutralizing the toxins on contact and converting the synthetic compound into a harmless, passing chill. “She thinks steel can protect a traitor,” Nyx snarled, her phantom violet eyes blazing with an unyielding, predatory brilliance behind my pupils. “Tear it down, Elara. Show her the strength of the lineage she tried to sell.” I stopped dead center in front of the reinforced panel, widening my stance into a flawless, unified combat base. Reaching out, I locked my fingers into the recessed iron handle and the outer hydraulic seal track. The metal was ice-cold, but the golden fated mate bond pulsing from the fre

"Mama! Mama!Wake up!" Amber frowned as she felt the tap on her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, a three -year -old boy appeared before her. He has a Comb over fade haircut. The child's black hair is thin. His skin is smooth and white. At first glance, one can immediately predict which clan it belongs because of the brown color of his eyes. Amber told herself, Indigo is indeed a sharp shooter. In just one night, he was able to make a Villacorda heir.

“I am Aeron, Alpha of Obsidian. And if you don’t move, you’ll regret standing in my way.” Laughter rippled among the guards. “He even speaks like him. Clever.” Aeron inhaled slowly, then stepped closer. “You want proof?” His hand lifted, and in one swift motion, he bared his forearm. The skin shimmered, revealing the mark of the Obsidian—the tattoo that every member of the royal family had. It was a tattoo etched in silver light. It glowed in the light as they stared at it. “Tell me, can a trick forge this?”

Even for the Supreme Alpha of the Wolfhart Bloodline, that is a ridiculous amount of silver coins to throw away on a whim! Under his intense, unyielding stare, I quickly select a fitted, off-shoulder tunic gown lined with pristine white fox fur. It is understated and modest, perfectly fitting my quiet Healer bloodline, but it makes my pale skin look luminous. Ronan tests a heavy black leather chest-piece emblazoned with the Wolfhart silver crest. When he stands beside me, the sheer contrast of his massive, rugged frame against my delicate silhouette makes my heart skip a beat. He motions to the lead weaver, commanding him to take a formal shadow-projection crystal of us standing side by side

She stood right in the center of the spotlight, her small leather shoes planted firmly on the oak boards. But as she tilted her face up to face the crowd, her brilliant silver eyes flashed into a piercing void of raw, untamed lineage power a clean, magnificent majesty that violently matched Travis’s own energy field under the high roof. The rare lineage frequency hummed out from her tiny frame, so perfectly anchored by the Lunar-Vein Obsidian caked into her daily routine that it projected nothing but a calm, absolute authority.

“You have very good thinking skills! Come and receive the award that I’m presenting to you personally.” A trophy appeared in Paxton’s hands without Zayn’s notice. The trophy looked amazing with intricately-carved patterns. Moreover, there was an ineffable charm to the trophy. Zayn could tell at one glance that it was made by a skilled professional and that it cost a fortune to make. Paxton cast a look at Zayn before he threw the award strenuously into the air.

Grady leans a fraction. “Onyx?” he asks the part of him that bares teeth only for need. Hold, Onyx says, rumble over our matebond. The fox thread Sable seeded under the third stone shivers, the line Nova saw this morning tries to be funny. My mark heats, the house hum warns me the way your body warns you about bad meat. “Girls,” I say without looking, and Zara steps into the crowd we seeded on purpose today with aunties. Children lift, chatter changes flavor and the world glances to its corners.