ash_knight17

"Who touched you?" he asked, his eyes brooding down at her and when she didn't answer, his voice thundered in the room, "WHO?" The butler who stood near the wall spoke shakily, "Sir, it was Mr. Reverale," Damien's face turned sour, his jaw ticking in anger he turned his face to the side where the butler stood behind. "Bring the man here." "N-now?" stuttered the butler. It was the time of night. Damien who hadn't broken his eye contact with the girl in front of him, pushed his hand against the wall which now rested beside his beautiful girl's head. Turning his body, he first looked at his butler who had his head bowed. With great courage, the butler came to meet his Master's eyes, "Do you have any other better time? Or should it be after I wring your neck?" Damien asked calmly tilting his head. Not a second later, the butler ran out of the room to return back with Mr. Reverale after twenty minutes. "Damien, are we having a late tea party?" Mr. Reverale came to greet but the master of the house had other plans. Spotting the knife that was stuck to the apple on the table, he reached for it to pull it out. Just as Mr. Reverale went to exchange a handshake with him, Damien took hold of his hand to place it on the table. In one swift movement as if he were chopping onions, he chopped the four fingers of the man off his hand making him yelp and cry in pain. "No one touches what is mine. I am sure this will remind you the next time you even think about touching her," sighed Damien as if he were tired of telling people to keep their dirty hands off his belongings. Meet Damien Quinn, a pureblooded vampire who is a complete narcissist, brash with his words and stingy even though he is rich who haggled when he bought a slave from the black market. On the other hand, meet Penelope who believes she is a 'guest' for a few days at the Quinn as she is intent on escaping from the odd vampire who needs therapy. ~

"Your bed is cold," spoke a voice in the room that had her eyes go wide in fear. Nervously, she turned around, gulping softly to see a shadow on her bed as if someone laid down there. The man who had been lying down sat up emerging out from the shadows where he had been waiting for her. "What are you doing here?" she asked when his feet touched the ground and he pushed himself up to start walking towards her. His handsome features looked darker than usual because of the lack of light in the room. "I came to meet you," he tilted his head, "Where did you go?" "I went out for a walk," came the quick reply that had him smile, a smile that scared her the most. She took a step back when he came close to her. It didn't stop him from cornering her, and her back hit the wall behind her. He raised his hand towards her face, and she closed her eyes, scared. She shuddered when his fingers trail down from her temple and her jaw and neck. Her blonde hair was left open. "In the middle of the night?" she didn't answer him knowing he could decipher her lies through her words. He stepped closer that had her turn her face away from him and his words vibrated on the skin of her neck, "Did you go to meet him, my sweet girl?"

Disowned for being a human, Vivian was taken in as a maid at the age of seven by the Carmichael household. Serving one of the most respected and elite pureblood families in Bonelake, there were rules. Rules that must be followed by all servants and maids. Like everyone else, Vivian was repeatedly reminded not to disobey the rules. But before she could learn to blend into the background like the other servants, the Duke's young son calls to her, “Bambi.” And all hell breaks loose. "What? Never seen a bruise before?" Leonard scoffed at the girl. "Does it hurt?" Vivian asked, gently kneeling beside him and examining the several bruises covering his face. "Not that much." Remembering what her mother used to do when she got a bruise, Vivian brought her sleeve to her mouth and blew warm air on it before placing it on the boy's cheek, taking him by surprise. Leonard swatted her hand away, a hint of pink appearing on his cheeks embarrassed, "W-what are you doing?" "Mama told me this will make the pain go away," the girl held her hand close to her chest as she shared her past memory. "I’m not a child!” Leonard huffed at her. “I don’t think you’re a child,” she stared at him with a crystal-clear gaze. Taken aback, Leonard locked eyes with her for two seconds before shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. They’ll heal in a day or two anyways," he reassured her before getting up and taking a seat at the table where his books were placed. "Odd girl," he muttered to himself as he pulled the top book from the stack and lost himself in it.

'All it took was breaking one rule that she was not supposed to' He was the bad boy with tattoos. She was the good girl with glasses, and she was his. — When Julianne Winters decides to move to the dormitory of the reputed University, she has everything planned so that she can complete her graduation and leave the place. But her plan is quick to catch fire from the moment the eyes of Roman Moltenore from senior year lands on her. And his appearance screams nothing but TROUBLE. "What rules?" Julianne asked with a frown as she read through the page. She was sure she hadn't seen any rules of the campus mentioned on their website. # 4. No using cell phones. # 12. Students should not roam outside the campus after eleven in the night. The further she read, the more bizarre it turned out to be. Her friend turned the page and then pointed at the last rule # 29. Listen to Roman Moltenore. "This is made up. Look, the last one is even written in pencil." Julianne couldn't believe that her friend from the next dorm thought she would fall for it. "And no phone?" "It is important you abide by all the rules. Especially number twenty nine," said the girl in a serious tone. "Remember not to get involved with Roman. If you happened to see him, run in the other direction. There is a reason why it is written down here." With the rules of the campus, she resorts to sending handwritten letters to her uncle. But who knew it would end up in someone else’s hand!

The body of a mermaid is a vault of treasures. Their tears formed the most splendid of pearls, their exquisite blood a euphoric drug for vampires, their luscious hair woven into the finest of silk, and their tender meat sought after by werewolves more than Heaven’s ambrosia. The creatures of night mingled within human society, fleeced in the wool of aristocracy, veiled in their portrayed innocence and nobility, their savagery continued to predate on the weak and powerless. Genevieve Barlow, Eve for short, was an exceptionally strange young lady. She had an alluring and beguiling nature, where for her twenty-four year old self had barely changed in appearance since her eighteenth birthday. She had fooled the administration and had gotten a degree so that she could have a better life. Most odd of all was that Eve had a secret she shared with no one. She enters the house of Moriarty, not just to earn but also to find answers on what happened to her mother nearly two decades ago. Unfortunately, things do not always proceed as one planned. Despite her cautious nature and desire to stay out of sight, a cold pair of eyes falls on her, that soon refuses to leave her out of sight.

Eighteen-year-old Ruelle Belmont has learned to be useful and grateful, because in her family love is given only to those who earn it. When her father’s debts grow beyond saving, she is sent to Sexton, a prestigious vampire institution that accepts one human from every household. But Sexton is no place for a human. Inside its halls, humans are not students. They are Groundlings, valued for their blood and how easily they can be broken. Favour is currency and cruelty is entertainment. And failure means being sold. Ruelle soon discovers that the cold and dangerous pureblood she once crossed paths with is here as well. Worse, she is forced to share a room with him when she is hunted by a couple of vampiresses. Lucian Slater watches her too closely for a man who claims to despise humans. Yet when Sexton’s predators begin to circle, he is the one who steps in to help her. And for the first time in her life, Ruelle is learning something she was never meant to believe. That she may be worth wanting. And in Sexton, being wanted is the most dangerous thing of all. The clock struck midnight when Ruelle heard the echo of footsteps. She tensed, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing on end in the cool night air. "You shouldn't be here," Ruelle whispered, her voice a breathless murmur. The silhouette finally came to stand under the moonlight, his dark red eyes watching her and his inky black hair ruffling. "Shouldn't I?" His voice was a dark caress, and she stood there captivated by the danger he exuded like perfume. "I haven’t seen you for the last two days," his tone low. His hand reached out, fingers brushing against the silk of her dress, tracing the trembling outline of her collarbone. "Tell me, were you avoiding me, or perhaps... entertaining other offers?" Ruelle’s heart raced, her breaths shallow. She declared, "I don't belong to anyone.” "A bold claim," he murmured, his breath a tantalising chill against her skin as he leaned in. "Yet here you are, pulse racing, your body tensed as if in anticipation of my touch." His fingers gripped her chin, tilting her face towards his. The light caught his eyes, revealing a glint of predatory intent. "Or must I remind you whose touch you truly crave?"