White Master Novels & Stories

Anita sat up straighter. “All right.” She clicked. The first photograph loaded. Anita stopped moving. “Well.” Andrew was handsome. Very handsome. He appeared to be somewhere in his thirties, with a strong build and the kind of presence that somehow came through even in a photograph. He was white. That wasn't an issue for Anita. She had simply never dated a white man before. “So we're apparently expanding horizons in every possible direction,” she muttered. She scrolled. The next photographs showed Andrew posing shirtless in fitted black leather pants.

Doris was clearly sidestepping my question, yet the onlookers seemed to interpret her behavior as an admission of my alleged degradation. Jennifer's voice rose above the murmurs, her arms waving with fervor. "Guys, if we turn a blind eye today, who will stand for us when our time comes? Today, we are the judges of the mistress! For this shameless mistress who wreaks havoc on others' family, we owe it to ourselves to mete out justice!" Encouraged by Jennifer's impassioned words, the students jumped onto their desks, their chant of "Expel the mistress and make it right" echoing through the hall.

Mira clawed at her throat, her eyes wide, terrified, her fingers scraping at nothing as the invisible force tightened around her neck. Rowan lifted his other hand to finish it, and that’s when it happened. A flash of white. No, it wasn't white. It was blinding, holy even and almost impossible. It erupted right in front of Rowan, exploding outward like a star being born. Every warrior, every puppet, every creature on the field cried out and shielded their eyes. I fell onto my hands as the world turned winter white. “What…?!” Rowan snarled, stumbling back. The light reached my skin, warm, and familiar, and I just knew who it was.

Jacob said blankly. When Maeve heard that, she was stunned. "Master of Golden Liberty? The Master of Golden Liberty?" "Of course. You might not be aware that the Master of Golden Liberty is extremely talented. He's very young but has already taken over Golden Liberty and is also a grandmaster. He's unprecedented."

"I've never seen his mother before, and I've only seen his father. But his father has passed away, and now he's alone at home." "Oh, then what does he do?" Stacy pretended as if she had never seen the world before. She looked into the room and said, "He seems to be quite rich." "It's your first time to White City, so you don't know. But no one in White City doesn't know about the White family." Mary was quite proud of the White family. "Although the young master can't stand, he is amazing. 70% of White City's people are working in the White family's business. He solved the problem of so many people alone."

“You’ve grown broader since you survived the Whitmore slaughter, Chika.” “Thank you, Maestro,” I say, bowing my head in respect. Vance walks over to an iron workbench and pours three glasses of dark, distilled wolf-whiskey. He pushes two glasses toward us. “Drink. It cuts through the chill of the war-zone.” I take a glass and swallow the burning liquid in one gulp, the alcohol firing through my throat while Peyton sips his cautiously, sniffing the rim first. Vance chuckles at Peyton’s paranoia. “Jamaican Blue Mountain moonshine, aged in charred silver barrels. The water temperature during distillation was kept at absolute zero to extract the raw magic.”

Whitmore. It wasn’t a birthday gift, at least not intentionally. It was a ritual. For the past eight years, without fail, Senior Mr. Whitmore has sent me a book on the 25th of every month (my birthday falls on October 25th). Always something new. Always something thoughtful. I hadn’t needed to buy a book for myself in years.

We were immediately met by an attendant who beamed a dashing smile at us as we looked around. "Welcome to The Eclipse, beautiful ladies. How many we serve you today?" "Quite a strong theme," I said as I looked around. Just like outside, they were sticking strongly to the eclipse theme. The inside was painted black and every furniture was also black. Soft lighting from chandeliers, candles and even oil torches lit up the interior. It was a cool, but warm ambience and the lighting was just right. Not bright enough to deviate from the theme but just bright enough that we wouldn't need to rely on our werewolf sight.

‘Fine, I am giving you another chance, but before killing Caleb, get rid of her mate, she needs to die first otherwise, she will keep causing troubles for us’ three witched looked at each other in horror, he was asking for something impossible for them, was he testing them? ‘But Master, we told you that she can absorb our magic, it is beyond our capability to kill her with magic, do you want us to poison her or kill by physical weapon?’ Cecilia took up the charge and asked like the deal was in process. ‘She is white wolf; it won’t be easy for you guys to kill her. Not even by poison or any weapon, you have to find the way to kill her, and I am sure you will find it’ the man only needed the r

Status: Cleared. A white-tier token. White tokens are standard issue. They aren't stamped with high-pack crests like Jakob's Blue Moon badge, nor are they linked to diamond bloodlines like Uriel or Regis. White tokens belong to the unranked students. The quiet ones. The ones who sit near the back of the lecture halls and keep their heads down. Or the ones who pretend to be fragile, helpless flowers sitting quietly beside the Harvest Moon heir. Willow. A cold sensation spreads through my chest, starting in my lungs and bleeding outward into my fingertips.