Novel & Cerita Wicked Beast

She already has a small army of those… Deads. The Deads are an abomination, created by that deranged witch Thalia and her fucking psychotic friend. They’re pretty much a mutated werewolves, created with a bit of Undead’s blood to enforce their obedience. That’s why every Dead will listen to an Undead. And since Beast is the only one left, all those hundreds of Deads answer to her. That’s a lot of manpower. But Beast is an Alpha’s mate. She should answer to me, yet she refuses to do that. It’s so frustrating!

Kate’s face hardened, but he just smirked, unfazed. “Does Claire know you’re here? What are you really doing in this place?” she snapped. He only shrugged, grinding lazily with her to the beat. “This place is for people who need alcohol and sweat just to survive another day without going insane,” he said quietly. “And tonight? That’s me.” His eyes slid down her body, lingering shamelessly on her breasts peeking from her top, then lower, to her skirt. He smirked. “Damn, babe. Gorgeous tits.”

“The Beast is not a weapon. It is a wound. And wounds can heal if we let them.” Garrick sneered. “Pretty words from his mate. Are we to trust a witch-blooded hybrid to speak for the packs?” Zara felt the insult like a slap, but Maxim moved before she could. He stepped between her and Garrick, a silent wall of muscle and menace. The chamber seemed to tilt as the faint shimmer of his Beast bled through—eyes glowing faint gold, air thickening with the scent of storm. Yet he did not strike. He simply stood there, breathing until the glow receded.

“Suck your tits.” The crude command ripped through my veins like gasoline on fire. I bent down as far as I could, pressing my breast up until my tongue flicked over my nipple. My mouth closed around it, my body shuddering as his voice pushed me deeper into it. “Good girl.” His hand smoothed down my stomach, his touch unbearably light. “Now suck the other one.” I obeyed, my tongue circling, my mouth closing tight. The taste of my skin, the filthy heat of submission—it only made the burn inside me worse.

Based in the rugged crags of the Appalachian border, they were known for their brutality, their massive physical size, and a primal territorialism that made them the natural, ancient enemies of the Blackwood line. Anna’s father had been a high-ranking Devonshire Enforcer, a man whose very scent was designed to intimidate. She had never met him. She didn't even want to know his name. To her, he was just "The Beast"—the man who had seduced her mother in a moment of reckless magic and primal heat, siring a child that shouldn't exist. Being a Devonshire hybrid was a death sentence from both sides: To the Warlocks: She was "Tainted Blood," a waste of a noble McKinnley lineage. To the Blackwoods:

"Bullshit. I'm not twelve, Sierra. I'm giving you one more chance." So much for trying. My head dipped low, and I drew a shaky breath as I lifted it up. "I'm sorry." Scarlett's brows rose, and for a split second her mouth opened; she clearly didn't believe me. "I thought you were better. You know the rules; the Vixens are exclusive. We do not sleep with customers, not even if they're VIPs." Lifting my head up, I protested. "It was one kiss; I've not been sleeping with Dante."

There was something about this city that made her feel even more out of place than usual. As she passed a small market square, Asha overheard fragments of conversation: *“Werebeasts have been sighted again. The hunters say they’re growing bolder, more aggressive. It’s only a matter of time before they reach the city.”* Her heart sank. Werebeasts. The very creatures she had been searching for, but not just any werebeasts. The unnatural ones—the ones who had been twisted by blood magic and dark experiments.

"Dex wants to be your bad boy. But me?" I leaned in until my lips were grazing the shell of her ear, until I could taste the salt on her skin. "I want to be the one who breaks you. I want to hear the bone snap in your virtue. I want to taste the blood and the sin on your tongue. Just this once. Let me have one taste of that filthy, forbidden cunt. Let me bury my face between your legs until you suffocate me with your thighs. I swear it. Just... let me ruin you, and I'll carry the shame to my grave."

he asked Duke, not minding my presence. "Yes, babe, she's my steward," Duke responded dryly. If I am not mistaken, she is Marie, the second daughter of the Menejez tribe; they lived near the Criose territory, the most hard-headed tribe; they were called the black sheep tribe. They don't follow the rules; they are killed once every hundred years via poisoning or hunting. They were the main reason why we wolves were almost exposed, and now, humans do believe we exist and continually hunt us. Either to kill or to attract people for money.

She didn't feel humiliated, because she knew this would happen. To Aztec, Beatrice would always come first, and frankly, Sandra wasn't going to try and come between them. She didn't want to be in her fantasies of a prince charming because as long as she was human and the wolves despised her, there was just no way she would ever get comfortable and claim she was one of them.