Zodiac Witches

*Swords clash against swords, arrows fly with no warnings, spear against spear, magic against magic, and fangs against fangs. The battlefield reek of dead bodies. Demons and werewolves, witches and warlords, shapeshifters, halflings, and many more. Companions were lost as dead bodies keep dropping. A fierce ruthless battle indeed. The Battle Of Blind Justice, The war between the supernaturals and demons that left an indelible mark on their whole existence. Against all odds will the moon Goddess Diana bless them with a mate or will her blessings come with a curse for choosing to follow the ways of dark magic? ****************** Tamar's body was on fire, she knew deep down in the sacred place in-between her legs, she was already wet, and she could feel her body burning from in-depth craving and desire, "I should have self-control," she said. to seduce an alpha king is a crime on its own. but what if he woke up and meet me on his bed like this, won't he thinks that I seduce him into going to bed with me? her thought was chaotic but Lucian didn't give her time to wallow in it as he lowered his head to her small face and kissed her deeply. Tamar could taste some leftover traces of wine in his mouth. at first, she struggled but it didn't take long before she give in to him. gradually the kiss became intense as he devoured her small lips, he moved to her neck and nibbled on it, Tamar was not able to hold back the moan that came out of her mouth, she was surprised with her own hands that were already pulling off his jacket. "What the h*ll am I doing!" she yelled in her head. ***************** Amidst the ongoing war intense romance between couples still Blossom.

Fear crept in, I couldn't lose her, and there was no time to rush back to the hospital. But then, without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to hers. It was more like my wolf, Jean was in control, pulling me closer to her. She opened her lips, allowing me. Instantly, I felt her pain, the burning agony in her leg. It all flooded into me, and after a while, the whole pain was gone. My breath hitched, but I didn’t pull away. There was no pain anymore, just how soft and sweet her lips were. She extracted her hand from mine and pulled me closer by the neck. She didn't want me to stop either. I felt like going further and tearing off her clothes; I wanted her; I've always desired her. If only she wasn't wolf-less, if only she was strong, she would have been perfect for me. She rolled her tongue inside me, making me grip her tighter. I began heaving, I wanted more. ******** Louisa was a wolf-less girl rejected and killed by her fated mate, the ruthless Alpha Scott. He intended to pick a worthy mate of his choice after her demise but she was brought back to life by a coven of witches who had a vendetta against him. She returns with no memory of who she was or the betrayal that led to her demise but on realisation that Scott wants her dead, she finds a way to stall and plans her escape. Alpha Scott falls deeply for her but refuses to ever admit it. Sooner than later, she begins to remember who she was and plans her revenge with the witches. Now, with revenge in her heart and magic on her side, Louisa must choose: love him… or destroy him..

***Warning: this book contains explicit content and graphical descriptions. I'll put a disclaimer on any chapter that's 18+ and note that every part of this novel is entirely fictional and will be a coincidence with anyone's*** "You're petite, feeble, and gay. All shades of wrong, and I'll crush you, Rhett." His tone is vile. "Your boner says otherwise, King Kael. I'm a chick with sharp features, full pink lips, sexy, snatched body, small waist, and I'm that dude you want riding you to cloud nine all night!" I didn't stop there. I added. "I'm that proud gay man you're too ashamed to become, and I see how you want to rip through my clothes and fuck me, but guess what? I'll never allow your homophobic ass." He was once a slave without voice or freedom, raped by his master. As if that trauma wasn't enough, he was turned into a vampire by a monster. For seven years, he resisted the transition and abstained from blood until his sister was murdered by witches. All hell broke loose, he drank her blood to take back revenge but the darkness overcame him. His tyranny birthed the Fifth Throne where he ruled with bloodlust and spite... but when a tech-nerd, proud gay man stumbles into his world, an obsession arises. Rhett is everything he despises: unapologetic, troublesome, and accepting of his sexuality. However, when Rhett's life is entangled in a supernatural war between vampires, witches, and hunters, the Vampire King must protect him. But how does one love a man who claims he doesn't love men? Who would rather kill you than kiss you? And what happens when that man starts craving your touch more than blood? In a world full of monsters, such bond doesn't go without spiralling a brutal war.

I stood at the edge of Ironwood territory, boots sinking into mud as cold seeped through my coat. I hated being this close to their land. It smelled like wet dog, testosterone, and trouble. “You’re late, witch.” The voice hit low and deep, vibrating through the ground before it reached my ears. I didn’t flinch. I refused to give him that. I turned slowly, amethyst eyes narrowing as I found him at the tree line. Guilermo Santander. He stepped into the gray light, rain sliding off his broad frame. Six-foot-five of pure menace. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, silver streaks catching the gloom, and those amber eyes—burning straight through me. “I’m not late,” I said calmly, though my pulse spiked. “You wolves just don’t understand patience.” He stopped three feet away. My skin prickled as the runes along my ribs flared hot, reacting to the dense magic rolling off him. Suffocating. Intoxicating. “And you witches don’t understand territory,” Guilermo said. He didn’t sound feral. He sounded tired—like a man carrying a century of weight on deceptively young shoulders. He leaned in and sniffed near my neck. I stiffened. “You smell like sage and burnt sugar,” he murmured, voice dropping, darker now. “It’s giving me a headache.” “Then stop breathing,” I snapped. One corner of his mouth lifted, a flash of sharp canine. “Make me.” The air between us snapped tight. My magic stirred, violet haze curling from my fingertips without permission, brushing the leather of his jacket. He didn’t pull away. He leaned closer. And standing there in the freezing rain with a man who could tear my throat out, I realized two things: Elder Sibal was wrong—Guilermo wasn’t a monster to be chained. And I was in serious trouble.