Velvet Scarlatina Rwby Novels & Stories

Scarlet's Pov: Tears blurred my vision as I fled from the packhouse into the forest. Ryan's betrayal coiled around my heart like a snake, coiling tighter with every breath. The warriors stared, their eyes darting to each other, as they glanced at me as if I were a madwoman, running around with disheveled hair and tears streaked face. A psycho, as they all call me. They whispered among themselves while pointing their fingers at me, but I couldn't care less.

she told him. "How did you expect them to be?" he asked. "rough" "I am a vampire from the royal line, my healing ability is fast. All my injuries vanish" "werewolves also have fast healing but sometimes scars remain" Rita told him, still tracing his hand. "I wish I had scars, maybe it would remind me of all the evil I had done." Rita released his hand and raised up her shirt to show the scar from the stab wound. "Well this one reminds me of when I tried to kill my own sister"

So for now I just watch as I am useless to her. I notice exactly when H gives partial control over to Wrath his hits become harder and slightly faster and his eyes get that tinge or red in them but I also notice that Scarlett's have changed slightly as well her eyes are no longer her natural colour but have both red and gold in them; I guessed her wolf and vampire have joined in the fight.

Now I was here to rip Ruby from his grasp. Leurel straightened his cravat and smiled. That smug bastard. “Took you quite a while to come, Riftan,” he drawled. “And here I thought no one was coming to help poor Ruby.” “Hand her over, and we won’t have a problem,” I told him flatly, though my eyes remained glued to her—the woman lying across his lap like a doll. He stroked her pale blonde hair, and I saw it—blood. Her arms and legs were blotched in purple and green bruises. A long, harsh scar marred her neck.

Blood soaking into the ground like it belonged there. A girl with dark hair spread around her head like a broken halo. It was Ruby. Dead. The Lycan on his knees beside her, hands shaking, mouth open in a scream that made no sound. His chest caving in as if something vital had been ripped out. Grief so raw it burned. Scarlet felt it. Not watched it...felt it. The ache in his chest slammed into hers, sharp and crushing. Her lungs struggled for air as tears welled without permission. Her knees weakened.

The little thing in front of him was attempting to seduce him but Radyn merely assumed that she was just happy to see him. She smoothed down bits of her red-coloured hair, trying to fix the waves, that would naturally fly out if it were not for the magic of hairspray, to make herself look more presentable. It would have been a lie to say that the late mornings did not do her justice as Scarlet looked more extravagant than ever. With her lacy, crimson nightgown hugging her comfortably and her ruby irises vibrant in the light, it made sense why she was called Scarlet. She had an alluring yet devilish charm to her that the Werewolf adored.

she hissed, every syllable soaked in venom. A growl rumbled in my throat, rising from deep in my chest. She could deny the title all she wanted—but she couldn’t deny the bond. With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Velara finally began to lift her shirt. The fabric slid upward slowly, revealing skin that stole the breath from my lungs. I hadn’t been prepared for the sight that greeted me. Her ribs were covered in a storm of bruises—deep violet and sickly blue patches sprawled across her torso like shadows from a violent past. The mottled skin looked fragile, as if the faintest touch might cause it to tear. Every discolored blotch whispered of pain. It was the kind of damage that couldn’t be e

The red runes flared, and the temperature dropped so sharply that Scarlett’s breath turned into a crystalline mist. "Stay behind the line of my wards," Scarlett commanded, her voice turning sharp as she began to move. She didn't use paper this time; the Wraith was too powerful for common talismans. Instead, she bit her finger and began to paint directly onto the stone floor with her own blood, the crimson liquid glowing with a fierce, golden light. Caleb watched her with a dark, unreadable intensity. His golden eyes were wide, tracking the fluid grace of her movements. He could feel the power radiating from her—a clean, sharp energy that seemed to slice through the oppressive gloom of the ce