Witch Glamour นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The idea of letting the worst sort of villain have his way with me, seemed even more terrifying then simply remembering that he already had. This, I’m consenting to. On trembling legs, I slid from my bed and adjusted the blankets so it’d appear I still lay there. In case my father peered in with a candle as he sometimes did. Tugging on my dullest gray dress and tossing my hair into a plait, I tried to look as unappealing as possible. Then I slithered out the window like some dark demon avoiding the eye, to sneak into the night. I stared at WitchFall on the Hill and every step that carried me closer felt like it was inches nearer my fate. Something I’d not be able to return from.

A shimmering, crystalline projection floated in the center of the room, casting a pale blue light over my features as it replayed the scene below in high definition. I watched the silver-haired witch move. She was a debacle - a beautiful, jagged error in the fundamental laws of magic. She shouldn't have been able to summon that scythe. The weight of the Mors Aeterna should have crushed her soul into dust, yet she swung it like she was reclaiming a lost limb.

"The bond is there, but he’s broken. He’s obsessed with a dead woman and that useless, haunting child. I need him to see me. I need him to crave me until he can't get enough air in his lungs." ​The witch cackled, her clouded, cataract-filled eyes fixing on me with a knowing glint. "You want a pheromone, little wolf. Not just any scent, the Siren’s Pull. It doesn't ask for love, and it certainly doesn't ask for permission. It demands a total surrender of the senses."

Drifting, she lost herself in the recorded forest sounds, the haunting cries of the wolves, the ultimate fantasy of two totally sexy men with their hands all over her. She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or merely drifted under the sensual massage, but Cain leaned over and whispered in her ear that they were going to turn her, and it made her smile, picturing a big spatula flipping her over like a pancake, but she was really too limp and relaxed to care how they did what they did.

And lilies, and sometimes a little bit of spice. But she also sometimes smelled like blood, and fangs, and he knew there was someone close to her. Someone who shouldn't be there. He gave a low sigh, just as a girl gave a small shout, followed by a slapping sound. He raised his head to it, just as a man stood and covered the girl. "I love it when they act so innocent. Don't act like you don't know your feisty attitude turns me on." "Get off me!" Jasmine yelled at the much older man, pushing him away and causing him to crash on the table of drinks behind him. The contents of the table fell off and caused a large collective shattering sound, and she gasped.

He was hungry for it, yet it didn't smell nice to him. Damien moved in the dark towards the main city, searching for one's blood that would satisfy him. He was nearing the main city when a hoard of people beleaguered him. They weren't humans. Most of them had odd-coloured hair and white eyes. They were Whigans. Whigans were beings that transitioned from humans to vampires. Those creatures had everything a normal vampire had, except a human form. When humans transform into Whigans, they lose their ability to retain their human physique forever

After the laughter died down, the Falsies looked back at Miranda with a face even more disdainful than the witch. “I'll tell you, Georgina. Edmund and I have the same criteria for women, namely the most beautiful girls in the world. So I'm sorry if this disappoints you, but shabby and ugly Crimson Demons don't fit into our criteria." Miranda's platinum hair swelled, her fingernails pointed ready to pounce. A moment later Wiggy realized hundreds of Trolls had surrounded him, the Fauns had mounted horses for some time. Wiggy watched Miranda emit a purple glow from her hand. Instantly, the attack flew and Wiggy leaped as fast as lightning, sending purple glows scorching the floor. Another attac

The only acceptable witches are the ones who make the potions to help the wolves with their day-to-day struggles and vanities. “You’ve got this,” she claps me on the back. “Now steel yourself,” Rosemary laughs. “Things are about to get hairy.” I shake my head at her bad joke as I read over our cocktail menu one more time. Everything seems straightforward enough. It appears that wolves and witches enjoy a gin and tonic just like everyone else. As people start filing in I immediately see what Rosemary meant by the witches. They glow. I don’t just mean the clothing that they choose to wear, which glimmers like captured starlight. But the witches themselves. Their skin has a pale shimmer that sh

Niklas, the real estate agent with secrets deeper than any property deed, crouched beside me. His black tuxedo was wrinkle free and his hands glowed a faint blue, the air buzzing with electric warlock magic. “Hold still, Charles,” he said, his tone steady. “This is going to sting.” “Walda’s coming,” Linda said, peering over the railing. “She’ll be here any second.” A gust of wind swept across the balcony, carrying the scent of sage and wood. Walda, the witch of Berlin Dome, appeared in a swirl of green light, her long green cloak billowing behind.

Applauded by the people there, Genevieve chuckled lightly when she pushed him away gently and walked again towards the bar counter. Meanwhile, in the magical kingdom of Thralia, it was a battle between the witches. Willow was looking beautiful in a red satin silk dress with a deep neck and the red lips gave her a bold look. "So, Griffin...what kind of a battle do you want to have?" Willow was standing alongside her brothers and Griffin had her so-called friends by her side. "Oh, maybe singing…" Siren suggested in excitement. "Maybe dancing…" Chapelle corrected when Griffin uttered, "or magic?"