Who Owns Alastor Soul Novels & Stories

“Yeah, you’re a bit late. You’ve been wearing it for so long that you couldn’t take it off now even if you wanted to. Soon you will forget about who you are and completely belong to me.” Accalia moves to try and take it off for me but she yelps in pain. “Don’t even think about it little one. Only she can take it off.” “What do you even want with me?” “Oh come on Maliyah, I thought you were smarter than that.” My eyes widen at the realization that he means to kill me for my powers. It’s what Alastor wanted from my mother. If me means to kill me it must also means he wants to kill Accalia as well, but she doesn’t have her powers yet so it does him no good to kill her now.

“What... what are you going to do?” Without waiting for my answer, he paces anxiously. “No, this isn’t the time for discussing that. I need to get you out of here first.” He crouches down, trying to pick me up. “I heard them talking about selling you, and the buyer is... Alvar Gonzales.” Alpha Alvar, leader of the Dark Moon pack, is known for his brutality. He’s bought many sex slaves, but they always end up disappearing. Rumor has it he changes bed partners every night and kills those who don’t satisfy him.

They all looked at me once again, a few of them were still glaring but most of them seemed to be more open to the conversation now and that gave me hope. "Okay, for the sake of everything else I have to reveal, I would appreciate you all to stay quiet. I know what I have to say is hard to accept much less understand but I assure you it's all true," I requested quietly. When no one spoke up I continued. "Now, these things are called soul-eaters and they are literally after our souls. They are collecting them for a daemon which, yes is like a demon but different. Apparently, it has nothing to do with the ultimate being of evil. They are more like a being in possession of dark Magic and this Ma

she asked, trying to understand the whole situation. “Yes, we both are the same, it's just that one of us takes the lead sometimes. Wolf souls are generally more possessive and playful than humans so be careful when dealing with him but he never means any harm. They aren’t just used to the human ways like us,” Alastor tried to explain to her, feeling slightly strange in himself talking about his other half as a different person. “Can I talk to him?” she asked, staring into his eyes, waiting to see them change back.

"I want to know where you will be staying because I’m not sure I want you back in our house alone." "I can protect myself." She chuckled. "With humans, yes. But not with demons. I’m afraid Alastor might come after you." I told her. "Alastor? Who is that?" Althea’s forehead creased as her gaze shifted between me and Lucy. "Arturos’ heir. Nyneve’s brother. He was, of course, not in agreement with Lucius taking Athwart. He can be as sneaky as Nyneve, and the last thing I want is for him to find out about you."

My wolf and I felt no warmth from him as he circled his talons around my wrist, pulling me so hard away from Trenton, my arm broke. “Brother?” Trenton raised a question with confusion dancing behind his eyes. “She is mine," Alastor thundered. His voice was so heavy, it rumbled against my eardrum. “She is my mate," Trenton corrected. “No little brother, she is my mate," Alastor shoved me away as he rolled his dress shirt to his elbows and crouched, ready to fight.

I was looking for him, but I was not the only one. A presence shifted behind me. I did not turn immediately. There was no need. “You think too loudly,” a familiar voice said. I exhaled slowly. “You always appear where you are not welcome.” Alastor stepped into view with his usual calm, the kind that came from knowing most people could not touch him even if they tried. Apostle of Ra. Exiled on paper, tolerated in practice. “That is an interesting complaint,” he replied. “Coming from a man who treats contracts like loose guidelines.”

The man said, his voice cold and threatening as he spoke. "You honestly believe he can't be beaten. He believed he was a master at his games. But I studied it for years, I learned of the loopholes. He was thrown from his throne and forced to be my henchman. He couldn't resist my deal. His hunger for death and blood made him blind to my plans. I am the rightful ruler of the Underworld. I've heard enough about Malcolm. He may have been the one who createdUnderworldworld, but I outwitted him, so I am the one destined to rule it. I will not speak of this nonsense anymore." Alastair hissed. The knowledge of who Malcolm was made me gasp.

A chill raced down his spine. The soft sunlight slipped through a half-closed window, catching the cold gleam of the man they called Italy’s nightmare—Alastor Merikh Drystan. The Sovereign. The number one killer. Only thirty, yet feared like a god. At twelve, he was already drawn to business—and blood. Passion lived in both. Drenched in shadows, Drystan reclined on a chair, legs crossed, a cigarette between his fingers. Smoke curled upward, but his eyes stayed fixed elsewhere—burning with calm, deadly intent.