Viscount/viscountess Novels & Stories

her voice echoed. And all eyes were fixed on her taking in every moment. “The dress the young madam of the Blackwood is wearing is nothing but fake. I’ll never sew something as ugly and cheap as that. Infact. I have never in my entire career seen this woman here before. Neither she ever bought any of my dresses. She’s a liar and a copy cat,” Visanchi roared loudly. Satisfaction filled my mind— moving down like a snake slowly towards my spine, as I took in a deep breath with a wide smile on my lips.

I almost didn’t notice him, he was standing off to the side so quiet and still he almost seemed invisible, but those eyes! 'He’s a visum?!' Valeria shrieks in my head. Val has never seen a visum before, but I told her they can easily be identified by their eyes. Eyes of electric purple with a ring of electric blue around that. They’re so intense it almost looks like the colour is moving. All I can do is nod in response to her question.

Since she attracted the emperor's attention, she has been the empire's, favorite woman. Her lovely pink hair and adorable eyes are perfect for anyone searching for an adorable figure. With her light skin and rounded eyes, she has an angelic appearance. She can't be compared to anyone when someone looks at her because the Dernst family is characterized by the pink hue of their eyes and hair like Viscount Sean Dernst. The Viscount says, "Greetings, Lady Isabella, I'm happy to see you here." I stare at Callia while I nod and grin at him. She appears to fix her eyes on me for a brief while before blinking them away and smiling again.

Visenya's smile brightened as she responded, "That's a beautiful name. I bet she was beautiful too." A genuine smile graced Lucian's face as he met her gaze. "She was," he admitted softly. "Just like you." They finished their breakfast, and afterwards, Lucian surprised Visenya with some exquisite new dresses. He had commissioned the finest seamstress from the Lycan Kingdom to create them specifically for her. The styles were subtly enchanting, adding an elegant touch that made her radiate the same grace he had always admired.

He also imagined that she must have had some secret encounters. But he never imagined that she'd carry such a great title. A Countess? Larissa was a Countess? Seeing how shocked Ambrose was, Larissa felt embarrassed. She said, "I'm sorry, Mister. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid I'd scare you. I never found the right chance to tell you." She pointed at Zayn and Rachel, "It's not just me. Zayn and Rachel are also a Viscount and Countess respectively."

“And his wife Countess Gwendolyn Blackmane.” “That is Viscount Hawke Bloodhowl.” Harlan had flipped over to a page that revealed a dark skinned man. “He commands more power than even the Earl or Marquess. Do not be deceived by his innocent face, he was once a merchant who sold werewolf claws and fangs to the highest bidders and rose up to the ranks as one of the richest men in twelve cities.” She explained, while Harlan flipped over to another page. “And his wife Viscountess Vespera Bloodhowl, she used to be the personal maid of the Baroness Of Joaska now she has a much higher position than her former mistress.” Lady Blackstorm explained.

"Mi' Lady, we have an emergency." The Viscountess straightens her spine and looks towards her men. "Speak" "The Viscount is home." His eyes are wide. "And he is not well. He says he was attacked by a dragon."

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭-𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐀𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐭 The liquid manifestation of the Heiress did not hold a stable shape. It rippled and tore like dark satin under a heavy wind, her amethyst-tinted visage stretched into jagged, geometric angles before snapping back into the cruel, youthful likeness of Helen Vance.

His voice was different. Quieter. Less composed. She stepped inside carefully. “You asked me to confirm dinner arrangements for tonight.” He was standing near the window this time, not seated. His jacket was off again. His sleeves rolled. That detail—small, insignificant—felt far more noticeable than it should have. “Did I?” he asked, distracted. “Yes.” A pause. Then he exhaled softly, as if returning to himself. “Right. Yes.” He turned toward her. And for a second—

"Valerie, your con game is pathetic, but I really admire your imagination." "First an Ivy League genius, now a Visconti Senior Advisor?" "Do you have any idea what the name Visconti means?" "The biggest mafia empire in the world. The dirt they sweep out their doors is worth more than you!" "You're just a lowly toilet-scrubbing maid. Stop flattering yourself and go feed the snakes!" Caroline sneered. She stomped her stiletto down on the crest, crushing it, and kicked it away. "Bringing this flea-market garbage out to embarrass yourself? Did you really think you could bluff your way out?"