Dorrien heard Avril call the old woman ‘Thalia’.
Thalia. Such a youthful name for a woman who already had several silver strands of hair amidst its gleaming onyx color.
“Ms. Thalia Turner, isn’t it?” Avril asked the old woman.
“Yes, Mr. Arke. And it is my pleasure to meet you,” she greeted while extending a hand to the Irish Alpha.
“And to you, Mister—”
“Dorrien Ronan. His name is Dorrien Ronan, a Shapeshifter Werewolf.” It was Avril who introduced him.
“Ah, a Shapeshift
It had been two days since Samhain. Still, Avril Arke and Anaztasia Arryn didn’t ceased taking chances for a kiss, sex, or both to one another. “We should find out why Romaine isn’t there,” Anaztasia said as she parted her lips first from Avril’s. “She only said she’d be late on Samhain since she has an important thing to do. I did not think she wouldn’t attend our most important festival at all,” Avril replied as he gasped for breath then leaned to Anaztasia for more of her lips. “So do I,” she said as he was about to kiss. He halted. “
“What is your kind again?” “Winnowers,” Laara replied while accepting the pudding that Rozelyn gave. “Which means?” Rozelyn continued squeezing for answers. “Folks of the Wind.” It was Thalia Turner who answered. The rest nodded in discernment. But Rozelyn Zadzisai was hungry for more answers, curious for what else the folks of her nanny could do. Yet, she couldn’t pass through any of their mental defenses. It seems they have an amulet of sorts. ‘A Thaumaturge has limitations then…
“Was that a bomb?” Anaztasia asked. “I think so,” Romaine said as she put her glass of passion fruit juice down. Rozelyn doesn;t know how many glasses of that juice her stepmother had consumed. ‘She only drinks a lot of juice when she’s nervous.’ She thought. Rozelyn decided to peer into Romaine's mind when she remembered about Laara and Isla. Rozelyn’s speculation became wilder. She had once glanced in Avril’s mind that Romaine was an accomplice. But, the question is, accomplice to whom? And why would she do that? Why would her stepmother do that? Why would Romaine betray the coven that had sheltered her ever since she ran away from her home in Romania?&nb
“You must be Rozelyn?” A male voice interrupted Rozelyn between her cries. She paused and wiped her face clean as if to show she wasn’t crying. The voice seems to come from her father but more calm and…belonging to a living. “It’s okay. You do not need to hide your cries. Feeling sad is normal. Even Mother Nature cries sometimes through the form of rain…” Rozelyn debated if she was going to turn around or not. Most probably not as the inspiring words were like her father’s words of wisdom. “May I sit beside you?” The voice asked in a polite manner. The hair on her skin began to stand; she was having goosebumps and was thinkin
It had been days since the apartment explosion and the departure of the mother and daughter she met at the orchard that were actually healers. Not the modern definition of healers. But the ‘supernatural’ meaning of healers. Some say they are witches but a lot different than that of heathens or blood witches. But these folks, the folks of Laara and Isla and Thalia, preferred to be called healers as it was more ‘pleasant’ to hear than being called a witch. Well, Romaine supposed they do have a point then. For in the 21st century times, there may be no mob to burn a witch at stake but people will glare at you and gossip about you, marking you as a ‘devil-worshipper’ and subtly ostracizing you.That’s th
Dorrien saw her do it. In fact, he had seen her the very moment she lifted Hans Ryder from the ground with just one hand. He does not question that because Romaine is a vampire in the first place.But the fact that Romaine wasn’t wise enough to take a peek at Han’s mind if he was really the real one or just a duplicate of the real Hans Ryder is a dumb move...and an advantage for Dorrien. Dorrien can’t still get over the fact that Romaine is a double agent. He doesn’t know why or how or since when. Yet, she prompted him to play this game of secrets and hidden agendas with him. And so he will do it; play it as Dorrien likes. But Dorrien’s move now&mdas
“Are you still bothered by the explosion a few days ago?” Thalia Turner asked Rozelyn as the old lady placed a bunch of almond cookies and a teapot of English breakfast tea on the living room table. “Yes.” She answered. “The sound of it was definitely deafening and haunting.” Thalia grinned. “You should get used to it. For the next centuries of your immortal life, you should be used to hearing explosions and the likes of it.” “I know, dear Thalia.” She poured Rozelyn tea on her cup carefully and with precise manner.&n
“My father is a vampire?!” Rozelyn suddenly fell to the ground due to shock. Lucky for her that Rosette was just behind to catch her. Thalia looked back and saw Rozelyn was now on the grass. Her face was sorry for Rozelyn; pitied the young soon-to-be Vampire Queen. Rozelyn was panting, sweating, and shaking. How many more lies and secrets she has yet to hear? If only her powers being a Thaumaturge include her being able to travel the Ever After, the equivalent to Afterlife, she had long done it in order to squeeze answers from her dear beloved father. “What else did my father tell you?” Her voice was rough in her throat. She suddenly felt thirsty, but it was not for wa
This book is my debut novel [ shrieks in incredulity @_@ ]. I can’t even believe that I have finished it. I originally tended this book to be a stand-alone. But, I become indulged on the own world that I created that I decided to expand it >_< . I know that an urban dark fantasy with a touch of steamy romance is not that popular for online novels. But I still finished it anyway; despite my initial belief that I can’t get pass through 50k words. And here I am, finishing a book with a whopping 70 chapters and more than a hundred thousand words! The sequel and final installment of The Blood Rose saga entitled, “Queen of Vampires and Werewolves”, will be coming this April—or May. Anyway
Rozelyn’s irresistible smell still lingers in his nose, despite the fact that he is already in Avril’s house—in which the pregnant Anaztasia Arryn is also staying. “You okay, Cy?” asked Avril as he handed him a can of beer. Avril Arke’s backyard is so spacious and calming, as if the lushness of this place resembles a virgin forest. “Not really. I…I have hinted to Roz that my heart yearns for her.” A smile tugged on his best friend's lips. “What did she say then?” “She didn’t. She was going to say something but she held back.” Avril took
Anger was still prevalent in Rhella’s heart. “How could he exchange me for that bitch?!” Her voice resonated in her little room, inside Maebh’s estate. “I didn’t.” A deep, familiar voice from behind her. Rhella remembered that she forgot to lock her door. “Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice radiates fear even when she tries to hide it. Especially in her current state that she cannot even summon an ember as magic had completely left her body, thanks to Leonardo Richards. ‘What if this is one of Maebh’s minions trying to kill me as I am now powerless?’ she thought.&nb
“Rozelyn…” He muttered her name as if it was a sacred word, a prayer. “Roz…” “You really think that—never mind!” She jerked her head back to Thalia’s house and saw Rosette and Aruba waving at her, the latter was holding an umbrella. “Hush you two! You’re both already soaked in the rain!” “We’re fine, Aruba,” Rozelyn simply said then walked towards the house, without any umbrella. “Love quarrel, eh?” Aruba teasingly utter. Cyrill just glared at her, then glanced back at Rozelyn. The latter was given a towel
“You didn’t know how happy I was when he was inside me, Roz,” said Rosette. “Yeah, I know.” Rozelyn’s sarcasm mode is turned on again. Rosette rolled her eyes, astonished to Rozelyn’s sudden shift in the mood. “Really? How much did I feel then?” She glared at her, eyes narrowing. “You’re very, very happy that you and your dear Leo have lasted for more than ten rounds.” “Rozelyn!” Thalia reprimanded. “It doesn’t mean you’re an adult, you’re allowed to be very green-minded!” “I’m not being a green-
“It was a pity for a person…” Rozelyn spoke, eyes fixed on the blazing body of Grainne Perkins, “…to die, while knowing that you did everything to live—including the fact that you exchange your freedom for immortality granted by the Blood Rose only to be murdered by a psychotic witch that, heaven knows, how the hell she did that.” Cyrill patted her back, “The Heathens are hiding something, a secret weapon I suppose.” “Grainne was a cancer patient, and had lived for a decade more thanks to the blood rose.” She wiped her face, and then fixed her hair. “Just like Rosette,” said Cyrill. “Yes. Just like Rosette Richards…” “You have done everything you cou
Roz was on the doorstep of Thalia’s home to visit Aruba when her phone rang. “Cy?” She breathed. “Roz, you have to come to the Fortress.” “Whe—” “Now!” Rozelyn wasted no time and headed back to her house. She immediately drove her newly bought car, thanks to Rosette’s gift. Speaking of Rosette, she saw her in one of the windows in the upstairs room of Thalia’s house when she turned around. “Rosette is probably sleeping in Thalia’s house—again.”&
“You’re finally home, Leo.” Leo jerked his head and he saw her.It was the woman he loved, he cared, he fucked, and he had been looking for. Yet, why is she here in the walls of his very home? “How did you enter here, Rosette?” She sauntered towards him, finger tracing his muscular chest. “If there’s a will, there’s a way.” He smirked. Sensing the hotness in the room, he removed his shirt. His sweat-drenched chest didn’t stop Rosette from tracing her fingers. His beloved’s hand landed atop his manhood and he knew then. He knew she was craving for more. “We just have sex earlier, Rosette. I am not surprised you are hungry for more.” Rosette’s face briefly
Cyrill’s heart was still beating fast even though he had already arrived at Vesta’s doorstep. When she called him on the phone, he sensed something was utterly wrong, something eerie; something that is going to happen unexpectedly. And Cyrill supposed it wasn’t a good one. “Vesta?” Cyrill then knocks three times, the perfect number when knocking. Not two or one, but three knocks. According to superstitions, when someone knocks once, it is doubtful if he or she is really a someone—a living person. When one knocks twice, it is said to be inviting a malevolent, unpleasant spirit within the house or building. Despite him being a Pasiphae werewolf, he still upholds and believes in superstitions. After all, there’s nothing wrong