Guilty Crown (Vampire Knight x Reader) - BOOK 2

Guilty Crown (Vampire Knight x Reader) - BOOK 2

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WpMetadataReadOngoing2h 3m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Sep 9, 2021
BOOK 2 [ON HIATUS UNTIL 3rd EDITION OF BOOK 1 IS FINISHED] Being different hurt, but now that (y/n) knows she is not who she thought she was, the pain turns to numbness. Memories are being dug up and secrets are being revealed, and she has no choice but to keep walking a path she carved for herself a long time ago. It's hard, but she continues with the help of her loved ones. Until a man from her past begins to haunt her dreams-then her life. (Y/n) is given a crown drenched in blood and a chest filled with the regrets of her past life. Being the Queen is not easy, specially when there is still a vacant seat for a king beside her. The power she owns scares her, especially when the ghosts from her past come hunting for it. All that's left is to choose: fall with grace or rise with guilt. (Book 1: Haunted Queen) I make long chapters; number of words they contain varies from 800-4000 words, so if you don't like long chapters, this is not the book you are looking for! If you do, I promise you'll enjoy my book!! Book 2: Guilty Crown Published: April 11, 2020 Finished: (?)
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The night bled silver, a wound of moonlight seeping through the tattered sky. The remnants of battle lay strewn about-bodies broken, crimson pearls glistening in the cold kiss of the stars. And she, Zero, stood amidst the ruin, her breath shallow, her ribs heaving against the corset of pain that bound her. The scent of blood clung to her skin, and in its heady perfume, betrayal unfurled like a winter rose. Kaname watched her, his dark eyes fathomless, as though carved from the night itself. There had never been warmth in them, only the elegant cruelty of a chess master contemplating his final move. How exquisite she had been, poised unknowingly at the center of his board, a piece moved by unseen hands, guided by threads of destiny spun long before her first heartbeat. And yet, it had all been a lie. Not his love, never his love-only the silence that shrouded it, the deception that bound it in chains of duty. Her fingers curled against her palms, nails biting into flesh. The truth had unraveled within her, a slow, unrelenting poison creeping through her veins. She had not been his beloved, not the moon to his ceaseless tide-she had been a pawn, a vessel, a means to his grand, imperious end. A fate woven long before she could resist before she could be anything other than his tragic muse. "Was there ever a moment," she whispered, her voice a wisp of smoke in the cold air, "when I was real to you?"

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