What Is Mary Shelley'S Most Famous Novel?

Scott had always hated humans ever since the begining of his existence. He believed that they were only good for one thing... As food bags. Alijah was the average human girl who loved her lonely life and prefered peace to every other thing. Her life turned around when she became involved with Scott, a man who seemed to hate her gut for no reason. Some harsh truth became open and Scott was left with no choice than to either become a forced bodyguard or let the entire vampire race be vanquished.

After I was reborn, I was the one who changed the name on my blood bond with Prince Mortlock. I wrote in “Isabella”—the other vampire he’d always cherished, always protected. When Isabella wanted the ruby necklace, the one that marked the Prince's Mate, I let her have it. The wedding dress Mortlock had prepared for me? I gave that to Isabella, too. I did it all because in my past life, I got my wish. I became Mortlock’s mate, but I lived every moment in Isabella’s shadow. In the end, during a battle with vampire hunters, Mortlock ran to a wounded Isabella first. I was the one left to take a silver stake through the heart. So this time, I decided to let them be. To stay far away from Mortlock. But this time, the cold, distant Prince wept and begged me to be his mate again.

Isadora didn’t want to come to Ashwyck Academy. It wasn’t the haunting towers or the iron gates that unnerved her. It wasn’t the students—dark, beautiful, terrifying things cloaked in magic and menace. It was what it meant. Coming here was a last resort. A whispered admission from her parents that something was wrong with her. That despite being born of a temptress and a mind-bending killer, despite all the bloodlines and rituals and whispered prophecies—Isadora was still painfully, tragically human. She was quiet, clever, and careful. Not powerful. Not wicked. Not like the others. Her parents called it “late blooming.” The High Table called it “defective.” But no one said it out loud. Instead, they tucked her into Ashwyck like a final gamble and hoped the academy could awaken whatever dark inheritance slumbered beneath her skin. She hadn’t wanted to come. She still doesn’t belong. But Ashwyck has its own secrets. And Isadora is about to discover that the parts of her she’s most afraid of are the ones they’ve been waiting for.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I nestled in the arms of my vampire husband, Alaric, and offered my neck to his lingering kisses. My breath caught as my hand fumbled in my pocket for the pregnancy test crystal. It glowed faintly, showing a clear positive result. I planned to reveal my pregnancy as my final surprise for the night: we were going to have a half-vampire child of our own. Alaric's confidant, Roman, grinned suggestively and asked in the Old Tongue of the Kindred: "Your Highness, and what of your childhood friend, the beautiful pureblood Elise? Does she satisfy you?" Alaric's mocking laughter rumbled against my chest, sending a chill down my spine. He replied in the same Old Tongue: "Like fire, wild and intensely hot. The harder you bite, the sweeter she yields." His fingertip was still tracing the bite marks on my neck, but his gaze was far away. "Just be sure to keep this quiet. I'd be ruined if my dear wife found out." The clansmen chuckled, raising their blood-filled goblets to pledge their secrecy. The warmth in my blood ran to ice. They had forgotten. Born of a noble human line that had intermarried with the Kindred for generations, I was fluent in their Old Tongue. I forced myself to remain calm, keeping the perfect hostess's smile plastered on my face, but the hand gripping my glass began to tremble. Alaric probably thought that if I found out, I would cry and demand to know why he treated me this way, just as I had before. But what he didn't know was that this time, everything was different. The marriage contract was void. I sent a message to my father: "Father, I've lost the bet. I am coming home to inherit the family estate."

This is the story of the biologist and the creature her father created. Cara received a plane ticket from her father the day before her birthday. Her father invited her to visit "the greatest of the century".When she arrived, she did not see her father but was locked up with the creature. The creature is the most beautiful than ever. But its IQ is only 8 years old human...So Cara treated him like a little brother. Is he really only eight years old human? I do not think so;)Yes, day after day, they fall in love.

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,