Fated Villain Novels & Stories

I plead, not knowing what the hell he can even do, “where did she go? She’s out there and she is literally a rogue” He doesn’t even acknowledge me now, but I can hear his heartbeat thumping. “Alpha Sin, you should know better than anyone what danger she’s in as a rogue, a female rogue” “It’s not my fucking problem” he snaps, “she’s your chosen mate, your fucking issue”

He said. A vein popped into my neck as he took a jibe at me. I knew who he was talking about, and my shoulder shook because it was a sour subject for me. J. J had been the friend who I often ran to when I needed solace. Though he was very much older, a four hundred years old werewolf, he didn't look like it. He was on the lanky side, had long shaggy blond hair, which he frequently did in a ponytail, and he was powerful. He stopped being my friend when Sienna died because he was the assassin.

A villain with a glass of apple juice in his hands—instead of a throat-grating shot of scotch, or a bowl of fresh human blood. A villain, especially one with a hefty goal should have black as his ensemble. Not multicolored boxer shorts and flip flops. He was supposed to be in his chambers, peering at the mind maps he'd drafted. Not basking in the mild Tuscan sun. A villain that likened himself to the devil should have his lips stretched in a grim line as he went through his loan over and over and over again. He definitely shouldn't be grinding lips with a scantily clad lady.