Never Judge - 975 Chapter 975

Eighteen years ago, blood stained the halls of the Full Moon Gala.The Vampires came slaughtering nearly every wolf shifter at the gala, including the visiting royal family. Blood drenched the earth, and when the carnage ended. Prince Ambrose, soaked in the screams of his people, he rose from the ashes with a single vow:Blood for blood.Eighteen years later, Ambrose is now Alpha King, ruthless, unyielding, and revered by his pack. But his thirst for vengeance never dulled. His target? Princess Odette.Odette isn’t a delicate doll. She’s fire wrapped in silk. Born of power, and unafraid to destroy. Raised by the very monsters that broke him.Ambrose wants to break her. But this princess doesn't break easily.Captured. Kidnapped. Claimed.The girl he wanted to destroy becomes the woman he can’t stop watching. Touching. Needing.Their bond is dangerous. Twisted. Forbidden.Can love be born of vengeance?What if a terrifying and dangerous threat rises from the shadows? Can a millennia long blood feud be overcome or will they destroy themselves before the enemy even has a chance?Ex:I started the shower and then looked to her and ordered her “Take off your clothes.”She almost snapped her neck with how quickly she turned her head to face me. “Excuse me?”“You heard me, Take. Off. Your. Clothes. Princess.”She looked at me dumbfounded, she couldn’t believe I was asking her to do this. The sheer audacity of me.She’s rich. Ha.“No, absolutely not.” She narrowed her eyes at me and lifted her lip a little, showing part of her fang. It was a warning glare.“I’m not a patient man. Strip or I will strip you of your clothes.” As I spoke those words, a sense of thrill shot through me. I've seen plenty of women naked. But my enemy’s daughter. Stripping her of her dignity, forcing her to humiliate herself.My wolf purred inside.“I will not.” Odette stood firm in her stance.“I will only tolerate so much disobedience.” I growled at her, I moved quickly, closing the distance between us in an instance.I grabbed her sleeve and tore it off her. She jerked back covering her arm with her hand. I moved closer to her. Ripping off another shred of her dress.She screamed “Stop it. Don’t touch me. Dog.” She napped.I snarled “Call me a dog one more time princess and see how I punish you.”“D.O.G. DOG” She said firm and slow.“I’m not actually, I am the Alpha King, the strongest and most powerful Alpha there’s ever been.” I was getting tired of the disrespect.“Keep feeding that ego of yours, maybe one day it’ll be a reality.” She hissed back.I grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. She thrashed and squirmed in my grip. But I held firm.Getting in close I whisper in her ear “Watch your little wh*re mouth. Before I shove something in it to keep it busy.”

In all my life, I’ve only made two mistakes that I regret. The first was filling out my entrance exam application wrong, and the second was offending Zhong Yuan. If I had to use an idiom to describe the impact of my mistake, it would be simply, ‘Life is no better than death’. And if I had to use an idiom to describe Zhong Yuan’s offenses to me, it would be simply, ‘Too many crimes to record’. And yet, for as evil and wicked as he was, he attracted girls the way that flowers attracted bees and butterflies.

It happened that one day, for some reason, I taunted Zhong Yuan, “The King of Hell sent you to torture some more people, didn’t he?” Without a change in expression, he replied, “In order to torture fewer people, I decided to just choose one person to torture for the rest of my life.” I asked him, “What do you mean?” He smiled at me and answered, “If you don’t go to hell, who will?”

- Description from Novelupdates

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.