Undead Hollywood Lion Mga Nobela at Kwento

CHAPTER SEVEN Part of Aleta’s favorite red hoodie turned up in some bramble outside of the city. It was cut, shredded, and stained. Animals had been gnawing and tearing at it, pulling it apart thread by thread by thread with their canines and incisors and grinding molars. From what they recovered of Aleta’s body, she had also been gnawed and ripped, but the animals pulling her apart had been a different sort. Angry Marie made a decision, then, and the impact of that decision would way heavy in her soul for the rest of her life. But seeing as her soul was pretty much tattered beyond recognition anyway, it didn’t seem like that much of a leap.

Darell said, releasing his hold on Chris's shoulders. Darell mockingly said, "Freaking coward." Chris said sarcastically, "Well, sorry for being an ORDINARY human guy, who is TRYING to leave his life peacefully, with no fear of losing his damn blood to a fucking vampire. He still seemed a little thrown off by the news, as was clear from his expression. Luna, a friend of his, was a vampire and alive." Darell laughed at Chris because it had been a while since he had last seen him inconsolable. When he discovered a snake coiling inside his car, Chris was last seen acting in that manner. Darell was still struggling to forget what had happened.

One word that has me throwing myself from Stephanie’s body instead of falling into the abyss. ‘Mate.’ ‘What the fuck, Leo?’ I linked my wolf aggressively, angered by his behavior. “Stephanie isn’t our mate.’ ‘Not her, you idiot.’ Leo retorted, scoffing, still annoyed with me for fucking around with Stephanie in the first place, ‘She isn’t worthy of being our mate, of being the Luna.’ He says the word Luna like he’s talking of the Moon Goddess herself and not my future mate. “Damien, is everything okay?” Stephanie asked, somewhat recovered but still a little breathless from her orgasm. She’s managed to wrap herself in my bedsheets, and her hand is outstretched, reaching for my arm.

He looked both determined and deeply tired, a man grappling with the possibility that the nightmare consuming the world had already claimed his son. Joseph Erickson crouched low behind the crumbling wall of an old administration building, his breath shallow and his muscles taut. All around him, the groans and guttural sounds of the undead filled the air, accompanied by the occasional shuffle of feet or the grotesque twitching of limbs. The building’s shadow provided some cover, but Joseph knew it wouldn’t last. He risked a glance around the edge of the wall. The horde wasn’t far—dozens of the creatures were scattered across the campus grounds, their movements erratic but no less deadly.

Rula never thought this would happen. Xabar looked straight ahead. A large crate was placed on a pile of firewood as if there were a funeral pyre. Rula turned her head. "Didn't you bury all the bodies of the Therians?" asked Rula. "Then why is there a funeral pyre?" "The honored werewolves of the Therian nation will be given special honors, Luna," said Xabar. "We do that for the pure heir of the Beta in this place." Rula felt goosebumps creep up her skin. She shook her head in disbelief. "This is not A Ga, right?"