Romans & histoires Witch Glamour

And before I am the Weeping Woman, crying. "I'm so sorry," she dropped to the floor and cried. "I just…I just wanted my Tomas back. I want Tomas back." Viola weeps. I sighed and looked at Zayn, who reached inside his cloak and handed me a chalk. I went to an empty wall and drew a rectangular door and characters representing runes. I placed my hand on the wall and closed my eyes as I spoke the ancient tongue of the witches before me. A warm, tingling feeling against my hand meant the magic was a success.

"Damn. This is bad. Please go back inside the secret door! Her scent will attract the Werewolves here! They'll lose their mind if... now, please! I will do something about this, just wait inside!" Zolan quickly went to the shelf and Romeo could only turn around and return inside. The door closed and the maddening scent was gone. Though the remnant of her scent was still lingering in the air, it was not that hard on the rest of them anymore. "Heavens… just what the hell was that?!" Zolan felt his knees weakened and he grabbed on the shelves to prevent himself from collapsing embarrassingly in front of the others. He could not believe that it was not just the prince they needed to hide but now

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."

Sarah admitted, "that's all I want." "Then it will be," I told her firmly. She scoffed lightly at my optimism. "How can you say that for sure?" "Because we'll do everything we can to make sure it is," I promised her. "Regular check-ups with both human and vampire doctors. Good diets, healthy body movement, we'll sign you up for swimming classes."

“Well, we haven’t had any trouble filling up the slots. We’ve got a new group coming in tomorrow. Three smart, young professional women from San Francisco. They’re driving, should be here by three or four. Another group of three out of LA. They’re coming in by private plane and plan to land in Weaverville. They have a rental car waiting, so they might show up earlier. They all work in the movie industry, but not as actors. Their reservation info said they’re into the production end of things. We’ll need to be careful around them. They might be more in tune with the weird and wonderful, and we can’t risk them finding out what we are.” “Which is why Feral Passions is the perfect venue for a lo

"Your mate will hold your wolf in a pendant on her neck, and you have to find her before the vampires do." Jasmine moved her head a little, stirring from her sleep. Her body felt heavy, but she had actually not slept all night, working at the club downtown in order to scrap up money to move out again. She had frequent attackers at her apartment, and for the fourth time in the last six months, she had to move out again. The attackers don't even seem to realize she is an orphaned teenager who needed to work for literally everything, they just kept attacking.

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 all, the only benefit to this marriage is your money." She walked away and left him staring at her back. Stupid. Carina sipped champagne and let herself stand at a large window looking out onto the balcony. Eric Swann belongs in this world – money, supermodels and business conversations. A collection of fragrances Shalimar and Obsession mixed with heavy scents of cigar smoke. Her vision is blocked by an array of silks and satins, mostly black or neutral; not flashy to highlight the diamonds, pearls and sapphires she knew were all real. Everyone has a tan, and she bet they don't have a lot of untanned skin.