I glared at Dragos and he gave me a cocky smile. I gave him the same smile right back. I was going to defeat this Vampire King, one way or another.I let all the anger and hate I felt for Dragos flow through my body and into the Emerald Tablet. I felt my bond with Valerian fading away, and the fear of losing him threatening to split my soul in two. I tried to steady my nerves as I locked my eyes on Dragos’.His smirk was gone now, his arms suspended directly above his armour where it hung, as if he couldn’t decide between letting it hang there or picking it up to wear it again. He looked worried and concerned as he looked around him. He might have sensed that I was connecting to the Emerald Tablets, but I didn’t think he knew that I was harnessing the One Power. I was stealing his dream from right in front of him, and the thought warmed me.I felt the energy I had directed to the Emerald Tablet flood back into my body. It started in my fingertips and didn’t stop until it had spread to
The thought was a balm for my grief. For a long while, I just rested in Ivan’s arms, tears soaking what was left of his torn and bloody clothes. I felt him crying too.“There feels like something is missing from me,” Ivan confessed.“Me too,” I said. “I feel like I will never again be whole, despite this power that flows through me.”I turned around. “Thank you for everything you suffered for me. I know you went through a lot. How are your hands?” He raised them to show her that the wounds he received from the spear were still not healed.“I can help you with that,” I said, and took his hands in mine. I closed my eyes and once again accessed the power that felt like an inferno in my body. I rubbed the wounds, and they slowly closed under my touch.I then focused on his other wounds. I sent waves of my healing power flowing through his whole body. I saw other cuts and scrapes close. His cheeks also regained their colour.“Thank you,” Ivan said. “One rogue stabbed me in my side. I thoug
[Epilogue]2 MONTHS LATERMy wedding dress was draped over the armchair next to the window. The curtains were drawn slightly and Valerian’s tux had been folded away neatly into the top drawer in our room. There were representatives of the twelve most powerful vampire covens downstairs, and the witches took quiet tours of our home as they waited for the ceremony to begin.I lay naked on the bed, wearing only my diamond ring and bridal garter. Valerian’s head was buried in between my legs. My head fell back on the pillow and I cupped my left breast, rolling the nipple around with perfectly manicured fingers. Valerian was stark naked and his tongue pushed in deeper with each moan that escaped my lips.I looked down my belly and I met his eyes. They glinted wickedly as Valerian thrust his tongue in deeper. I fell back to the bed, grabbed the bedsheets with both hands and arched my back. Valerian pushed me to the edge, brought me back, and pushed me right back. My hair stuck to the sweat o
“Guys, we can hear you from the reception room,” they said.We both jumped and then we burst out in laughter. Valerian lowered me to my feet, grinned like a little boy, and kissed my birthday. He danced as he dressed in his tux and he blew me a kiss before he left.“I’ll see you downstairs, Mire. Hurry down, we’ve got some unfinished business.”I sat naked for a few more minutes and thought of the turn my life had taken. Dragos was gone, I was about to marry the man I loved, and we already had a baby on the way. I giggled in delight, hopped off the bed, and started to get dressed.I walked down the stairs ten minutes later and was delighted to find the staircase decorated with flowers. Rafael was going to give me away, and he smiled when he saw me coming down. I held my flowers with my left hand and extended my right to him.“Are you ready to become our new Vampire Queen?” he asked.I smiled as I hooked my arm around his. “I have never felt more alive. Or more ready, Rafael.”Rafael g
[APPRECIATION]Dear Readers, I aspired to be a writer for a significant portion of my life.It began when I was a young child. When I first started writing, I began to realize the power of words. I can recall those early days. From sonnets to brief tales, I started to string words together, making my craft gradually Even then, I realized how deeply words could connect with other people's experiences and how validating that could be.I began to write more as I got older. I wrote poetry and short stories in journal after journal. I spent every spare moment jotting down my thoughts on napkins and torn notebook pages. I was courageous in offering my work to other people, and it seemed like I could write constantly.The shift started in college. I had little time for anything other than studying and working full-time as a college student. My writing ceased gradually. I switched from undergraduate to graduate school and increased my work responsibilities.I wed someone. I had a family. Beca
Devil brings forth.That is the very thing that my dad saw me as, and he made sure that mark slipped from his lips and stuck to me, a ten-year-old youngster that simply needed to satisfy her folks and feel acknowledged. Be that as it may, as I heard the unreasonable crying of my wiped out three-year-old sibling, Balrus, reverberating through the corridors of my Alaskan home in the gloomy hours of the morning, I pondered assuming my dad had been correct. Be that as it may, for a child to cry to the point he was shouting and unfit to pause and rest, he probably was maniacal in a wicked way. It was clear in the manner my mom cried as she battled to shake Balrus. The aggravation and absence of rest transmitted from her indented cheeks and empty eyes. It was tangible by my dad's peaceful murmurs and frantic tone that broke as he addressed somebody on the telephone. Despite the fact that their torture decreased within the sight of my sibling, I was as yet the wicked produce, undesirable and
I cleared my considerations away as I twisted into my level pad that scarcely had sufficient pad to prop my head and tucked the bothersome cover under my jaw. I was asking briefly for quietness so I could float off into a profound daze, yet my eyes were immediately frightened when I heard a whirlwind turn outside and sleets of ice beating against the wooden walls of our miniscule two-story cabin. The leafless tree appendages ripped at my window as though they were battling to hold themselves from blowing endlessly. The rotting flooring planks squeaked as the home softly influenced from the strain of the breeze, and chills crawled down my spine as I heard the front entryway squeaked open. The strides of this secret individual reverberated up the steps and raged down the lobby towards my sibling's room where my mom was shaking a fastidious Balrus. I could detect the air of this individual, and my skin shivered from a mind-boggling feeling of commonality. The fragrance of sandalwood and s
Voices resounded from the parlor making my stimulated advances delayed into an uncomfortable pussyfoot. The old pendulum clock ticked bizarrely uproarious as it read seven AM, which implied I was just a brief time before my mom discourteously woke me. In Fairbanks, Gold country, we were not graced with the sun because of the presence of the polar evening, a period of haziness, snow, and winter's fierce virus. The main touch of light was the imperial blue sparkle that tossed over the town.I anxiously kneaded the odd skin coloration to my left side wrist. It consisted of light brown written lines that entwined together. Throughout the long term, the lines became hazier and more unmistakable. It was challenging to make out, however to me, it had all the earmarks of being the letters M and V impeccably adjusted like a riddle. Kids at school generally prodded me that it was the checking of the failure's club and my dad said it was the stamp of Satan.It was basically irregular lines engrav