Wicked Romane & Geschichten

Harper. "Victoria, what sort of seduction did you use to bewitch Mr. Harper into helping you?

She sat on the bed and cross her legs. "You must really love her, huh? The ruthless Alpha has finally found his mate." She smiled. "I'll help you. It seems that her scent is bounded under a witches spell." She said. "And what does that mean?" I asked as I was confuse to what she was saying. "That her kidnapper knew what they were doing. You can smell it for a brief time, but then it vanishes. But its not enough for you to track it." She explained. Now everything was making perfect sense now.

Victoria The palace rumbled under the fights between the witches and the wolves. I was sure if this fight went on with this intensity, the palace would be brought down. I was impressed by the power of the witches, being able to match a wolf like Damian. He was one of those witches who combined the genius of a mad scientist with that of a rogue wolf. He loved to tamper with drugs which enhanced his strength by a hundred if not a thousand fold. It wasn’t enough to match a true Lycan like Sinclair but it was enough to cause significant damage.

, the words abruptly came out of her mouth without rethinking again . " What ! A murderer ? ", At her response a sudden look of disappointment fall over his face as if he had just missed a train. " Yeah am not going to stay with a man whose reputation is vile ", She countered again in the coldest tone she could muster up. " My reputation is vile but am not a murderer so better watch out" , He growled. " Err ! Ahh ! Why do you act surprised, don't you know the innocent ladies you have so far killed after sleeping with them ", Even when she saw the way his icy blue eyes turned out to dark brown she still provoked while chuckling .

“No one can. Unless she carries it. Find it. Tear it from her. Do not fail me, Tremaine.” I reeled back, the blood draining from me. Spells. Stones. Bewitchment. Witches. The word clicked into place like a blade into flesh. They were witches. They all were. Tremaine, Anastasia, the whole lot of them. And my father—my father who had married her—what had she done to him? I stumbled, the floor groaning underfoot, and panic drove me to flee. But something anchored me there. A need to see, to know. My hand closed on the knob and turned, inch by inch.

"But you're one with the spell. Princess doesn't have spells. Witches can be anything she wants. One day, some man will fall in that spell, and my dear will truly be loved." "I don't want to be a witch. I want to become a princess too. Princess has prince charming. What does the witch have? A black cat!" Agnes pouted. The servants listening to their conversation laughed. The joke stuck with her until they grew up. From that time, they call her the Witch of Walden.

His lips… argghhh I don’t want to lust over those glossy and crimson pouty lips! I badly need to confess and beg for the lord's guidance. I think I am enchanted by evil spirits. A spirit that could make me tremble, pissed off, and thrilled.