Novels by Vina Kalviné

Third-Person POV – Omniscient The battlefield was silent. The last echoes of war had faded into the wind, leaving behind the hush of a world reborn. The ground was scorched where shadows once marched, their whispers now nothing more than dust beneath the heel of dawn. Wolves in silver and black armor stood among the ruins, heads bowed—not in defeat, but in reverence. Above them, the moon lingered pale against the bleeding sky, its glow softer than the steel of victory, yet stronger than any blade. It had watched them fight. It had watched them bleed. And now, it watched them rise. At the center of the clearing stood two figures—side by side, their bond blazing like fire and starlight. Gabriel, Alpha of Blood Moon, his storm-gray eyes carved from iron and devotion, a leader who had faced the abyss and returned unbroken. And Samantha—the White Wolf, daughter of the Moon, no longer a cursed orphan but a Luna, a Princess, and the prophecy fulfilled. Her cloak rippled behind her, whi

Samantha’s POV The moonlight painted the royal balcony in silver, soft as a lover’s touch. Below, the kingdom slept in peace—a fragile peace we had bled for. My fingers curled around the railing, the weight of the day pressing against me like a second skin. From this height, the horizon seemed endless, but I knew better. Shadows always lurked beyond the light. “Still awake?” The voice I could find in any darkness came from behind me, low and rich, curling through the night air like smoke. Gabriel stepped into the moon’s glow, his ceremonial coat abandoned, leaving him in a white shirt that clung to the hard planes of his chest. His hair was mussed, like he’d dragged his hands through it a dozen times. And yet, he looked every bit the Alpha—the king beside me. “I couldn’t sleep,” I admitted. “It doesn’t feel real. Everything we’ve fought for… today, it all changed.” He came closer, and the world shrank until it was just us and the moon. His hand found mine, rough warmth covering

Samantha’s POV The throne room shimmered with silver light, moonbeams slanting through the high glass panes as if the Goddess herself had chosen to bless this day. Banners of Blood Moon and Crescent Moon hung side by side, their symbols interwoven in a single thread—a sign of unity, of change. My heart thudded beneath the ceremonial cloak draped over my shoulders. “You’re trembling,” Gabriel murmured from behind me, his voice rich and grounding. I drew a breath, steadying the flutter of nerves that even my wolf couldn’t tame. “I’m not,” I lied softly. He chuckled low, warm against the shell of my ear, and I felt his hands slide over the cloak, smoothing the heavy fabric into place. The subtle scent of cedar and musk clung to him, pulling me back to the quiet strength I’d leaned on so many times before. “They’ll follow you, Samantha,” he said, voice dipped in certainty. “They just don’t know it yet.” When I turned to him, his storm-gray eyes held a glint of something more than r

The days following Samantha’s rise as Luna were relentless. Duties pressed in from every corner—meetings, disputes, the lingering unease of looming threats whispered by the Alpha Council. Yet she carried it with a calm steadiness, never allowing the weight to crush her. But it wasn’t in the council chambers or among warriors that her true strength shone. It was with the young. The Blood Moon’s children had always been trained hard, their play edged with discipline and survival. Since Crescent Moon’s fall, many orphans had joined their ranks, scarred by loss. Fear and bitterness still clung to them like shadows. Samantha saw it first when she walked past the training yard. A boy no older than ten had fallen hard, his knees scraped bloody. Instead of comfort, an older instructor barked at him to get up. The boy’s lip trembled, his eyes hollow. “Enough,” Samantha’s voice cut like steel. Every head turned. The instructor stiffened, bowing quickly. “Luna—” She crouched beside the bo

The Blood Moon Pack grounds still glowed with traces of the wedding celebration, but already, duty called. Samantha stood before the great hall, the symbol of her new authority etched into her wrist, its faint silver glow, a reminder of the Moon’s blessing. Her gown of white and silver was gone; now she wore her Luna’s mantle—deep crimson lined with fur, a crescent embroidered on the back. The weight of it pressed against her shoulders, not with dread, but with responsibility. The pack gathered in silence. Their faces held a mix of awe, reverence, and relief. They had seen her vanish in a burst of light. They had feared they had lost her forever. And now, they bowed as one, acknowledging her not only as Luna, but something greater—the Queen of Wolves chosen by the Moon herself. Gabriel stood at her side, his presence grounding her. His eyes, however, never left her, still shadowed by the memory of nearly losing her. His fingers brushed hers briefly, silently promising never again.

The night was hushed, as though the very earth held its breath for them. The sky stretched wide, velvet-dark and spattered with silver constellations. The full moon loomed large above the clearing, its glow draping the gathering in a soft, ethereal light. Torches flickered around the sacred circle, casting shadows that danced like spirits on the edge of the forest. The Blood Moon Pack stood in silence, a sea of faces lifted toward the altar at the center. It had been built of white stone and entwined vines, blessed by the elders and marked by the Moon Goddess’s seal herself. Tonight, their Alpha would take his Luna—and their Queen of Wolves—before the gaze of the heavens. Gabriel stood tall in ceremonial black, a cloak of crimson draped over his broad shoulders. His golden eyes were fierce yet soft when they landed on the aisle before him. But even the unshakable Alpha could not hide the restless clench of his jaw, the tension running down his frame. This was no ordinary bond—it wa

Yasmine's POV At first, I didn’t understand what he meant. But then the lights flickered—once, twice—and every shadow in the room seemed to crawl closer. The reflection in the mirror behind him shifted, and for a second, I saw something else there—his face, but not his. Eyes like molten copper, a grin that didn’t belong to the man holding me. “Azrael,” I breathed, “you’re scaring me.” He shook his head, stepping back. “I told you not to come close.” The floor beneath him cracked, faint lines of red glowing through the wood. The symbols on his skin pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, and he dropped to his knees, gasping, his hands clutching his head. “Get out,” he groaned. “No.” I moved closer, crouching in front of him. “I’m not leaving you like this.” He looked up at me then, and for a heartbeat, I saw him again—the man who smiled when he thought I wasn’t looking, who brushed the hair off my face like I was something fragile. “Please,” he said. “Then fight it,” I whispere

Yasmine’s POV The first thing I noticed when I woke up was how cold the room felt. Not the kind of cold that comes from an open window or morning air, but the kind that creeps into your skin, quiet and heavy. Azrael wasn’t beside me. The sheets were still warm where he’d been, but the warmth was fading fast. He’d said he thought he saw something by the door last night. Smiled like it was nothing. But the way his voice had sounded, low, distant amd I knew it wasn’t nothing. Something was wrong. I sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. The curtains moved, even though the windows were closed, and for a second, I thought I heard someone whisper. Maybe it was just my mind playing tricks again, but lately, things around him didn’t feel… normal. Sometimes the shadows looked thicker when he walked by. Mirrors turned darker when he stared too long. He’d catch me watching and smile like it was all in my head, and maybe I wanted to believe it was. I stood, my bare feet b

Azrael's POV I woke up with Yasmine in my arms the next morning with a grin on her face. And I was about to step down from the bed, when it all hit me, the wave of what I hated the most. My time was running out, a fuckin countdown, 9 months, when my eyes caught a figure by the door. Mordecai... I slowly shifted away from Yasmine outside the room, anger ebbing at every part of my body. "I never thought the Almighty Azrael would sleep in a room with other Color than black," It taunted. "And the girl, you really think she's your Chance at salvation?" I clenched my jaw, my hand twitching before I could stop it. “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, my voice low. “Elyon made sure of that.” Mordecai stepped out of the shadow, his grin stretching too wide for a human face. His eyes gleamed the color of burnt copper, slick and hungry. “You think rules ever applied to me? You forget, brother, I was born from your rage. Wherever you are, I am.” I hated the way he said brother,

AZREAL'S POV Yasmine's smile was a blade, small but sharp, and for the first time in centuries I realized I preferred it to softness. She wasn’t trying to heal, wasn’t begging for mercy — she wanted blood the way a starved wolf wanted meat. And gods, I understood it. I pushed away from the doorway, the boards sighing under my weight. “Shadows are louder than screams,” I said. “He’ll start looking for them everywhere.” Yasmine propped herself up on her elbows, hair falling loose over her shoulders. “You make it sound like an art.” “It is.” I crossed the room, letting the pale light fall across my face. Her eyes tracked me with that familiar tension — part revulsion, part curiosity. I’d stopped trying to name which part was winning. “Fear works best when it doesn’t know when it started or where it ends. A single crack in his certainty… and the rest of him will crumble.” She didn’t argue. That, more than words, told me she was learning. Francis would not die quickly. No — quick wa

AZREAL'S POV We didn’t wait long, by nightfall the list on the table was already worn soft from our hands. Names, numbers, small notes in Yasmine’s hurried script. She tucked it into her journal like a sacred text and looked at me with that same fire I was beginning to recognize — the one that meant she wouldn’t sleep until something moved. “Let’s start with Francis,” she said, tying her hair back. “He’s the easier one. He’s too proud to imagine anyone could reach him.” I leaned against the doorway, arms folded. “You want him paranoid before he loses everything. The paranoia will make him sloppy.” She gave me a small smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Good. Sloppy means vulnerable.” We started simple — a message. Not from her number, not in her tone, but close enough. Words cut down to bone: I see you. Delivered at a time she knew he would be alone in his office. Yasmine’s fingers hesitated over the screen only once before she hit send. We didn’t wait for the reply. It wasn’t a

AZREAL'S POV She tugged the pendant at her throat, a small habit she’d picked up. “What do you mean by small?” “False sightings,” I said. “A shadow in the corner of his office. A voice on his voicemail that sounds like Yasmine, saying things that only she would know.” I watched her as I listed the ideas. “Documents. Little notes delivered where he can’t help but see them. A file that reappears on his desk after he deletes it. Friends who swear they heard him talking to himself on calls. The absence of sleep eats at the mind like rust.” She smiled then, cold and sharp. “Make him think I’m alive. Make him see me in places I never would be. Make him imagine the things he did.” “Exactly.” I tapped the wooden table once. “And make him watch. We’ll leak his mistakes at first—emails, payment trails, forged evidence implying he’s been embezzling from his own company. Not enough to kill him financially; just enough to get the board sniffing. Then a call from an anonymous source. Then a c