The House Beneath the Blood Moon
Samantha Hale thought she had it all — a perfect marriage, a thriving career as a software engineer, and the kind of life that looked flawless from the outside.
Until she discovers her husband is cheating on her… with her sister.
And that her sister is pregnant.
Betrayed. Homeless. Broke.
One night, Samantha enters a radio contest on a whim — and wins an old Victorian mansion in a forgotten countryside town called Willow Creek.
It’s supposed to be her new beginning.
But the house has a secret buried deep beneath its foundations.
When she unlocks the door to the basement, Samantha finds two stone coffins — and accidentally awakens Lucien Varyn, the long-lost King of Vampires, and his enigmatic right hand, Sebastian.
Lucien is dark, magnetic, and far too dangerous.
Sebastian is cold, calculating, and hiding something behind his icy loyalty.
Both are bound to her by an ancient prophecy neither of them expected to come true.
As strange events unfold and old powers stir, Samantha must decide who to trust — and who to love — before the house claims her soul…
Because in Willow Creek, under the glow of the Blood Moon,
the past isn’t dead. It’s just waiting to be awakened.
Basahin
Chapter: Ring Around the CoffinBy the time night fell, I’d accepted three things. 1. The Varyn House had a mood. 2. My crowbar, Brenda Classic, was my closest friend. 3. I was officially cohabiting with a vampire. Honestly? I’d had worse roommates. The lights above the kitchen table flickered lazily. The bulbs hummed even when the switch was off — like Brenda herself was breathing through the wires. I was surrounded by three coffee mugs, one bleeding pen, and a notebook labeled Operation Anti-Crispy. “Alright,” I muttered, tapping my page. “Goal: find one sunlight-proof vampire accessory, return it to His Royal Broodiness, and maybe stop the house from flirting with me.” “Flirting?” a voice echoed smoothly behind me. I jumped hard enough to spill coffee. Lucien Varyn stepped from the pantry shadows like a full-course gothic hallucination — black coat, perfect posture, and an expression halfway between curiosity and condescension. “You move like a cat burglar,” I hissed. “Do you have to appear out of nowh
Huling Na-update: 2025-11-10
Chapter: Hangovers, Hot Vampires & Brenda’s BoundariesI woke up to the distinct smell of dust, despair, and possible homicide.For three seconds, my brain floated in blissful blankness.Then memory punched me square in the frontal lobe.Coffins.A heartbeat.A man in said coffin.A vampire.“Oh my God,” I whispered. “He’s real.”Every cell in my body turned into a tiny screaming emoji.I froze on the couch, cocooned in my blanket like a terrified burrito. My gaze darted to the kitchen doorway — shadows. Too many shadows.“Okay,” I breathed. “Let’s think this through. He didn’t kill me last night. Which statistically suggests he’s either friendly, vegetarian, or waiting for marination.”Brenda, the house, creaked gently above me — a sound halfway between you’re fine, sweetheart and run while you still can.Then, from the kitchen, came the low, unmistakable sound of a man moving.Measured. Graceful. Predatory.I peeked around the doorway and immediately regretted every life decision that had led me to this point.There he was — Lucien Vary
Huling Na-update: 2025-11-10
Chapter: The Vampire King Awakens(From Lucien’s point of view — dark, sardonic, and suddenly starving) --- Death had been quiet. Faithful. Predictable. For two centuries, silence was my only companion—velvet and infinite. When I finally woke, I expected thunder. The tremor of magic. Perhaps even a song from the abyss. Instead, I awoke to snoring. Human snoring. Something warm and soft was sprawled across my chest, breathing loudly, drooling slightly, and—worse—smelling faintly of my 1834 Château de Montclair. I blinked. Slowly. The absurdity of my resurrection sank in. I had not been awakened by destiny or ritual— but by a drunk woman wearing mismatched socks and the scent of stolen wine. She muttered in her sleep, “Five more minutes, Dracula.” …Dracula. Who in God’s forgotten name was Dracula? I moved. She stirred. Her lashes fluttered, and she blinked blearily up at me. Our eyes met. Her pupils dilated. Her body went still. She whispered, “Oh my God.” “Yes,” I rasped. “
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-31
Chapter: The Man in the CoffinI needed tools. A crowbar. Courage. And maybe a priest who charged by the hour. Instead, I had Brenda, a flashlight with commitment issues, and half a bottle of 1834 Bordeaux whispering, go on, girl, make poor decisions. The stairs creaked beneath me like I’d just announced I was bringing emotional baggage to the afterlife. Each plank groaned, turn back, but I’d already committed—and nothing sobers a woman faster than pride. The air grew colder as I descended. It smelled like dust, iron, and unresolved trauma. Somewhere above, Varyn House moaned in a long, judgy sigh—as if she were the old aunt at a wedding muttering, “this won’t end well.” “Noted,” I muttered, flashlight shaking. “I’ll add that to my Yelp review.” Halfway down, a cobweb tried to mug me. I walked straight through it, squealed, then did the world’s least dignified tap dance. “Fantastic,” I gasped. “Ambushed by interior design.” --- The basement opened around me like a secret the earth had been hoarding.
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-31
Chapter: wine & woeMorning arrived like a debt collector with a bullhorn and a grudge.Light barged through the warped kitchen window and stabbed my eyeballs with all the subtlety of a toddler with a plastic sword.My tongue felt like it had been wrapped in carpet.My hair had evolved into a sentient tumbleweed.And somewhere in the Varyn House, a pipe wheezed like a dying dragon rehearsing its final breath.I lay on the couch, cocooned in a moth-eaten blanket that was definitely crocheted during a historical plague, and tried to remember if I’d slept at all.Spoiler: I had not.Not after the breathing I heard beneath the floorboards.Not after my survival instinct politely suggested I stop exploring the murder basement.Something slid under the front door with a genteel shfftt.Mail.I stared at it the way one stares at a spider—if I didn’t move, maybe it would reconsider existing.It didn’t.Fine. I crawled across the floor like a stunned crab.Ivory envelope. Gold edges.The kind of paper that smelle
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-31
Chapter: Welcome to Willow CreekWhen you’ve hit rock bottom, even small-town gossip sounds like background music. Three days of eating canned pears and pretending to be emotionally stable had convinced me of one thing: I needed a job, coffee, and ideally, food that didn’t come from a tree. So, I brushed my hair into something vaguely legal, grabbed the keys to my dying car, and headed toward civilization. The fog was thick enough to taste. Pines hunched over the narrow road, whispering secrets I didn’t care to hear. Finally, a weather-beaten sign emerged from the mist: > WILLOW CREEK — POPULATION: 1,203 (Give or Take a Tragedy) Cute. The diner squatted at the edge of town, its neon OPEN sign flickering like it had trust issues. Inside smelled like bacon, burnt toast, and second chances. The bell above the door jingled, and every head turned. Small towns: where personal space and privacy come to die. A waitress with teased hair, kind eyes, and a name tag that said MARGIE waved me over. “Well,
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-31
The Lycan King’s Rogue Queen
Riley Ashford never wanted a pack, a mate, or a crown. Exiled for her wild defiance, she learned to survive on her own terms: free, reckless, and untamed.
Until the night she is captured by Kael, the ruthless King of Lycans—an ancient predator who rules not just with power, but with fear.
Kael has never shown mercy, never been tempted by women who only wanted his throne. Too docile, too boring, too predictable. But Riley is none of those things. She’s chaos wrapped in sharp teeth and sass, a wolf who dares to snarl in the face of a Lycan.
Forced into Kael’s world, Riley refuses to kneel, turning every humiliation into a battlefield of wit and defiance. But the more she fights, the more Kael finds himself drawn into the storm he swore he didn’t need.
Between deadly trials, court politics, and dangerous rivals who’d kill Riley just to get close to the throne, one truth becomes undeniable:
🔥 She might be his prisoner. She might even be his downfall. But she will never be anything less than his equal.
And the Lycan King has never met a queen like her.
Basahin
Chapter: The Hall of MirrorsKael Veyra woke like a blade being polished—hushed, bright, and a little too pleased with its own reflection. By noon, the Hall of Mirrors had filled with courtiers who smelled like money and nerves. The room itself was a geometry problem: a hundred panels of silvered glass angled to catch every breath, every blink, every lie. High above, a skylight dripped white light as if noon had been jarred and poured. Lumi tugged my sleeve. “Ground rules?” “Don’t touch anything that looks like it’s going to ask a personal question,” I said. She nodded solemnly. “So, the whole room.” Riley came to stand at my side—black jacket, bare throat, eyes that had learned to put out fires and start them. I didn’t reach for her hand. I didn’t have to. Choosing to stand here was already its own vow. Solven materialized from a mirror with all the humility of a sermon. Their mask today was half-moon, half-sun, stitched where the two refused to agree. “Majesty. Lady Riley.” A courteous incline. “Veyra th
Huling Na-update: 2025-11-09
Chapter: Mirrors Don’t Lie (But They Flirt)KaelIf anyone asked, I’d call it diplomacy.If I was honest, it was an excuse to breathe next to her without the world watching.Veyra — city of mirrors and masks — was technically neutral ground.Which made it perfect for my plan.No council. No decree. No Daren Vale. Just a dinner that wasn’t supposed to mean anything.Except it did.Because it had been months since Riley’s memories began returning in fragments — a name here, a laugh there — and every time she looked at me, I could see the question she didn’t dare ask:Was I ever yours?So I’d done the stupid thing.The brave thing.The Riley thing.I planned a date.Three days convincing the Veyran council to host us “in the name of diplomacy.”Two hours choosing the restaurant with the most dramatic lighting.And one very long speech to Lumi about not calling it a date out loud.Spoiler: she called it a date out loud.---RileyHe called it “a strategic dinner to reassure neutral territories.”Translation: the Lycan King wants to
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-29
Chapter: Coffee, Knives, and Other Bad DecisionsRiley Cindrel woke up cranky. You could feel it in the cobblestones — like the whole city had slept in its crown and dreamed of being the victim. Shops opened late. Priests of the "perfectly harmless sunlight" found new excuses to sweep somewhere else. Even the pigeons looked judgy. Lumi and I hit the market before dawn because apparently, revolution requires caffeine. "Ground rules," I said, tugging my jacket closed. "If Ronan tries any noon tricks, stab his cup." "With what?" she asked. "Your eyes." "Copy that." She flashed a smile that could’ve qualified as a war crime. Ronan Vale appeared right on schedule, like a golden sin with good timing. No cape (thank the gods), just that effortless grin people wear when they’ve never lost anything that mattered. He chose a wolf-owned cart — decent choice — the one with coffee strong enough to confess for you. He bowed. To me. To Lumi. Even to the barista, who didn’t bow back and handed him a cup that looked like liquid defiance.
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-29
Chapter: Noon Rugs & Bright LiesKael Dawn found Cindrel gathered beneath its own arrogance. The upper terrace became a balcony of judgment; the square below, a throat full of held breath. Auditors lined our rear flank with salt-knives and moon-ink. Lira held a ledger like a weapon. Varyn posted steel at every arch. Lumi stood at my elbow with an apple and the alert contempt of a cat who’s decided the city is a bad sofa. Riley stepped up beside me. No crown. No cloak. Just a black jacket that made her look like a promise someone would regret breaking. She didn’t need armor; the room changed shape to fit her. “Ready?” I asked. “No,” she said. “Do it anyway.” The bell tolled. I raised my voice. “People of Cindrel,” I said, “by right of the crown and the law we bled to write—hear the record.” Lira lifted the first rug—one of the pale noon-weaves we’d pulled from behind a panel—and snapped it open so the square could see the threadwork stitched in hidden gold. A collective hiss crawled the crowd. “Solar tethers
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-28
Chapter: The Bright Lie
Riley Cindrel’s council chamber was designed to make people agree with it. Sunlight fell through a honeycomb of gold-latticed skylights, spilling in neat hexagons across marble that had never seen dirt. Banners hung like sermons. Every seat faced the throne dais, as if the room itself had already chosen a king and wanted applause on schedule. Lumi took one look and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a yes-man in building form.” “Accurate,” I murmured. “Try not to lick the walls; you’ll get drunk on self-importance.” Kael heard me (of course he did) and didn’t smile (of course he didn’t). His shoulders wore the quiet weight I’d started to learn: King, not just Lycan. The kind who had to make a decree and then walk it into every city because words don’t grow legs by themselves. We were here to nail Cindrel’s compliance to the floor. Again. And the Vales were already seated like a matched set of knives. Lady Serina gleamed—pearl hair, pearl smile, pearl cruelty. Beside her: Daren Vale, all
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-27
Chapter: The Court of Smiles and KnivesRiley Cindrel didn’t look like a city. It looked like a warning wrapped in gold. The streets gleamed too clean. The people smiled too wide. Every balcony dripped with banners stitched in silver thread — old symbols of Lycan dominance Kael had outlawed weeks ago. “Smells fake,” Lumi muttered beside me. “Like perfume and lies.” “Then keep your blade sharp,” I said. “Both kinds.” She grinned. “Yes, Alpha Mom.” Kael ignored us, but his jaw was tight enough to crack a gemstone. “We’ll meet their council, remind them what the decree means.” “You mean tell them to stop pretending slavery is heritage,” I said. “That too.” I could feel the tension thrumming through him — the calm before the storm, the weight of a man who’d learned peace was just another kind of war. --- Kael The Council of Cindrel assembled in a marble hall big enough to make gods feel small. They were all there — the nobles who’d hidden behind old titles when the world changed — and leading them, Lady Serina of
Huling Na-update: 2025-10-26
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