Novels by paopaowrites

The journey back to the East Pack was long and silent. The shadow wolf’s attack still lingered in the air like a dark omen. Ava couldn’t shake the feeling that it had only been the beginning of something much larger. As the path wound through the forest, her mind raced with thoughts of the ley lines—the ancient magical veins that connected the earth itself. They had always been stable, predictable… until now. She had spent years learning their intricacies, the subtle ways in which they could be manipulated. But this? This was something different—something far darker than anything she had ever encountered. By the time they reached the East Pack’s fortress again, the first traces of nightfall were beginning to creep across the sky. Ava’s body was weary, but her mind was wide awake, consumed by questions that had no easy answers. Inside the war hall, the maps of their territory had been spread across the long wooden table, flickering candlelight casting long shadows on th

The first light of dawn stretched over the horizon, casting an eerie, pale glow on the dark forest. The air was thick with mist, and the ever-present scent of pine and earth seemed to carry something far darker beneath it—a whisper, a pull, as though the land itself was aware of their presence. Ava stood at the edge of the clearing, her hand lightly grazing the surface of the stone altar that sat there, weathered by centuries but still humming with latent energy. This place was old—too old for comfort. There were no signs of life in the area, but the weight of the air felt oppressive, like the ground was holding its breath. She glanced at Ashton, who had been unusually quiet since they’d left the East Pack’s stronghold. His gaze was locked on the horizon, his jaw tight. Tension crackled between them, like the calm before a storm. Ava couldn’t help but feel a twinge of frustration. She could sense that Ashton was trying to push her away again, his internal walls as high

The towering gates of the East Pack rose from the mist like ancient sentinels—blackstone laced with silver veins, pulsing faintly with enchantments meant to detect outsiders, and repel magic. The energy in the air shifted as Ava and Ashton approached, thick and oppressive like a brewing super storm. Ava tightened the hood over her head, the coarse wool brushing against the mark on her wrist. It throbbed, a soft pulse beneath her skin, like it always did when Ashton was near. The tension between them since the attack in the forest had not eased. If anything, it had sharpened. So sharpened enough. The guards stationed at the gate didn’t move at first. They just watched with sharp, calculating eyes—wolf-born, trained not just to protect but to judge. Ashton swung down from his horse with the elegance of an Alpha. His expression was cool, composed, but Ava could see the set of his shoulders: alert. Ready for anything. Ava followed suit, her boots crunching lightly on frost-covered

Ava didn’t sleep. She lay awake long after Ashton left, staring at the low ceiling of her cramped room, still feeling the echo of his touch on her skin, his breath on her neck. Her body burned for him, but it was the ache in her heart that kept her from resting. He wanted her. That much was obvious. But he didn’t want the bond. And that, somehow, hurt worse than any rejection she’d ever known. By the time dawn broke, a cold silver light spilled through the tiny window above her bed. Ava rose slowly, pulling on her cloak and lacing her boots with fingers that still trembled. Today, she needed focus. Control. There was no room for vulnerability—not when she had to face him again. The Council had summoned them. Her and Ashton. Together. She made her way out of the packhouse and into the surrounding forest. The trees welcomed her like old friends, their branches creaking softly in the wind. Deep in the woods, past the training fields and patrol rout

The first time Ava Oakley felt the mark burn, she was alone. The Moon hung low above the forest canopy, spilling silver light through the twisted branches like strands of fate. Ava stood still beneath it, her breath ghosting in the cold air, hand pressed against her wrist where the skin pulsed with warmth. It had started again—just like it always did when he was near. Alpha Ashton Hawk. She didn’t need to see him to know he was close. The bond told her. It throbbed, alive and silent, just beneath her skin. Her magic stirred in response, restless, aching, demanding something she could never fully give. Not while he continued to deny her. She’d tried to dull the connection with meditation, herbs, distance. Nothing worked. Even now, his presence pricked at her senses like static before a storm. Ava swallowed the lump in her throat and turned back toward the packhouse. Her boots crunched across the frosted ground, the sounds swallowed by the heavy stillness of the

Long ago, when the Sanguine name still held power, a girl was born beneath a blood moon.They said she cried without sound, her eyes already crimson at birth.They said she carried an ancient gift, something that hadn't stirred in centuries.They said she would change everything.But prophecy was not protection. The child was hidden. Her name was buried. Her mother fled, cloaking their bloodline in silence.That child was Tatiana.And the gift?It waited.Now, after two decades of sleep, it had awakened.⸻Tatiana didn't sleep that night.She sat on the floor of her small cottage, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the ancient book as if it might whisper answers if she waited long enough.Her fingertips were stained from hours of tracing the sigil burned into the leather cover—two intertwined roses, one blooming, the other withered, wrapped in a serpent. She didn't need anyone to tell her what it meant.It was her family's crest.Her real one.The world she'd believed in—the mortal

The halls of Vesper Hold dripped with elegance and menace in equal measure.Candles burned low in ancient sconces, casting tall shadows along the marbled floors. Silk tapestries whispered of conquests past—bloodlines vanquished, monarchs dethroned, oaths sworn in ash. The scent of old magic lingered in the air, beneath the colder, cleaner aroma of power.Luscius Vesper stood at the great stained-glass window of the council chamber, his arms folded behind his back. Below, the crimson river that carved through the mountain valley shimmered like wine under moonlight.He didn't turn when the chamber doors groaned open."You summoned me, Father," he said evenly."We summoned you," came the cool, sharp voice of Lady Virella, one of the Seven.Luscius turned.The entire High Council was present. Seven lords and ladies, each older than memory, seated around the obsidian table like gods passing judgment. And at the head sat Lord Theron Vesper, his father, face carved from stone, eyes like twin

Vespera, Year of Crimson EclipseBlood. It ran like a river through the marbled halls of the Black Citadel.Queen Seraphina knelt at the edge of her throne room, her white gown soaked in red, her crown shattered beside her like splintered bone. She could barely lift her head, but her gaze held fire — the kind of fire only born immortals carried. Purebloods. True vampires."Mercy is beneath you, Luscius," she spat through blood-stained lips. "So don't pretend to offer it."The man who stood before her was not yet a legend. He was not the cold strategist the world would one day come to fear. No, not yet.He was merely Luscius Vesper, son of the King's second wife, cast in steel and shadow. The youngest general to lead the Vampire Council's army, and the executioner of his own kin.He stared down at the fallen queen — not with hatred, but with something far worse: calculation."You were warned, Seraphina," he said, voice smooth as moonlight on a blade. "The prophecy forbade the birth of