All Chapters of The House Beneath the Blood Moon: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

When the lights went out, I didn’t scream. Mostly because I was too tired. There’s a particular kind of exhaustion that comes after you’ve had to accept that your home is alive, your roommate drinks blood, and your other roommate might be plotting a coup. “Brenda?” I whispered into the dark. No response. Not even a pity buzz. “Cool. Silent treatment. Love that for us.” I switched my phone flashlight back on. My battery was at 11%. Of course it was. Somewhere below, something cracked—a sound halfway between thunder and breaking bone. Then, Lucien’s voice: a snarl, sharp enough to cut through the floorboards. “Sebastian!” I froze halfway down the hall. “Nope,” I whispered to myself. “We’re not going down there. We’re going to stay right here and—” The house tilted slightly, like it disagreed. I grabbed the railing to steady myself. “Brenda, sweetie, now is not the time for redecorating!” Another tremor rolled through the walls, followed by a burst of cold air that smelled l

Lucien POV ---The graveyard should have been silent.Instead, the fog moved like it had opinions.Samantha trudged beside me with her crowbar, glaring at every shadow.“If something undead jumps at me, I’m committing a felony.”“You are not capable of defeating a vampire with that,” I said.“You haven’t seen me angry enough.”Fair.The air felt tight, trembling—because the House was humming through her bones,panicking.And if the House was panicking, we should have been running.But instead, here we were, walking toward the one place she desperately didn’t want us to go.Samantha muttered, “Brenda is having a meltdown, and we’re doing a field trip. Excellent life choices.”She had named the manor Brenda.I had stopped trying to understand.---We reached the mausoleum.Samantha lifted her phone.Then the light burst on—bright, unnatural.I recoiled like she’d slapped me with the sun.“Put that sorcery away,” I hissed.“It’s a flashlight.”“It burns without fire.”“That’s kind of t

Samantha — POV --- I had never run inside a house before. Correction: I had never run inside a house that was also running with me. Brenda pulsed under my feet like she had veins— thudding, vibrating, practically shoving us down the hallway with her panic. And honestly? Same, girl. Same. Lucien kept pace beside me effortlessly, which was rude, because I was doing my best impression of a startled duck in sneakers. “Faster,” he said. “I—AM—TRYING,” I gasped. “Some of us don’t have vampire cardio!” A gust of wind shot through the corridor, so cold it stabbed. I yelped and nearly tripped over my own dignity. Lucien caught my arm just before I face-planted into a portrait of some dead guy with excellent cheekbones. “Stay close,” he commanded. “Oh trust me,” I wheezed. “I’m glued.” --- We reached the staircase, and Brenda slammed the doors behind us one by one. BANG. BANG. BANG. Like a giant slamming shut a stack of angry encyclopedia volumes. “Is she—locking the house

SAMANTHA POVStone exploded behind us.Lucien shoved me forward, shielding me with his body as chunks of rock crashed where we had been standing. Dust choked the tunnel, thick as smoke.“RUN!” he snapped.I ran.Because apparently running from supernatural disasters had become my new cardio routine.We burst into a small underground chamber—the kind of gloomy stone room where gothic prophecies hang out for fun.Lucien moved in front of me, scanning every shadow.“What the hell was that?!” I gasped.“Not Sebastian,” he answered.“Cool. Add it to the trauma list.”And then—A voice slid into the room.Silky.Smooth.Rotten underneath.“You tasted her, Lucien.”Every molecule in my body froze.Lucien went rigid.Sebastian emerged from the darkness like a nightmare stepping into its spotlight. Elegant. Beautiful. Horrifying.“Oh good,” I muttered. “The aristocratic Satan Barbie is back.”Sebastian didn’t look at me.His eyes were locked on Lucien, delight glittering inside them like poiso

Samantha Lucien lay motionless on the stone floor, looking far too much like a Renaissance statue who’d lost a fight with a chainsaw.I knelt beside him, my breath catching, my pulse thundering so loudly it drowned out everything else.His skin was cold.Too cold.“Lucien,” I whispered, voice cracking, “if you die, I swear I’ll start practicing necromancy. Don’t test me.”No reaction.Not a twitch.Not a breath.Not even one of his judgmental eyebrow lifts.For a man who usually materialized behind me like a supernatural jump scare, this level of stillness was TERRIFYING.I pressed my shaking fingers to his throat.A faint pulse.Weak. Erratic.Panic punched me so hard I nearly toppled over him.“O-okay,” I muttered. “Still alive. Barely. Like… Windows Vista alive, but alive.”A low hum vibrated through the walls.I stiffened.“Oh no,” I warned the ceiling. “Do NOT start your haunted-house nonsense. I am busy.”BOOM.The tunnel behind us collapsed — stone folding inward like a closin