Assassin Vampire Novels & Stories

TJ Ashwyn begs, his chest heaving as the elite assassin opens his jaws and runs his tongue directly over the puckered entrance. "You smell like absolute submission," Lucien Hollowmere whispers, inhaling deeply against his skin before thrusting two thick fingers inside the tight channel without warning. "Ah! Lucien!" TJ Ashwyn screams, his male walls clenching desperately around the invasion as the older vampire begins a brutal, rhythmic stretching inside him. "You are built to take my size," Lucien Hollowmere growls, using his thumb to press hard against the root of TJ Ashwyn's throbbing cock while his fingers pump deeper inside his heat.

My vampire vision easily pierced the darkness, but strangely I couldn't make out the person's features. Only a silhouette. The figure searched the room. Then, reaching beneath their cloak, a knife flashed. My entire body tensed. The bastard was hunting Elara. Without hesitation, I used compulsion. The knife flew from the figure's hand and clattered across the floor. The assassin froze. Before they could react, I crossed the room with vampire speed. I seized them and dragged them through the balcony. We landed in the gardens below. The figure struggled violently. I ripped away the mask.

The Tormentian spits in Kris’s face. Kris goes white with anger. “You fucking bastard!” In a flash, Kris blows his fuse. Without a thought, he lunges forward, grabbing the other vampire by the neck and twisting. “Kris!” I roar. It’s too late. His anger boils over. I hear a cracking, popping sound, and then the assassin’s head comes free from his body, bouncing across the forest floor. “Fuck me!” I shout, releasin his limp body. “Kris? What the fuck?”

I have to give it to him; he’s cautious. “As I’m sure you know, I was transferred to Mexico after a falling out with Dionysus. My relationship with Irving is strictly professional. I am not, nor have I ever been privy to his inner circle. Unlike other Confradia Assassin teams, ours does not socialize or even work together. Over the time that I’ve been with the Mexico team, I’ve noticed that Irving does not encourage interaction between his Assassins or with him. In fact, he has expressed his discomfort with my presence many times. He wasn’t happy that I was placed in his team because he disliked Dionysus and thought that I was sent there to spy on him. Overall, there are five Assassins in ou

We locked the dungeon’s door and walked back toward the bedroom, making sure to walk in the shadows as we did, careful not to be seen. We entered the bedroom and I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when we did, wrapping my arms around Iris and pulling her in for a hug. The two of us were yet to grieve over who was once the best assassin of her time. She was known for her strength, power, and purity. The idea of her betraying the way she did would have never occurred to my mind had we not lived through it, and seeing that she tried hitting two birds with one stone, and that one of those birds was Iris and I didn’t come as pleasing to me.

Alex took her gaze off the scope of the rifle she is holding after taking the shot that hit straightly towards the felon’s head. She then stood up and handed the rifle to Damon, who stood guard as she took her shot through the clerestory window at the empty utility deck of the building.

Isabelle has been working for me ever since her parents died at the age of 10 and has trained with me. "Isabelle, I have another assignment for you." "What is it sir?" she questioned. "The prince of vampires, Aspen has found his mate meaning he will now become king. However, his mate is human, this will lead to the werewolf population being ruled by vampires, which we cannot allow. So, your task is to assassinate this human." I tell her. "But sir, wouldn't it be better to kill the vampire since we are the protectors of humans?" "DO NOT QUESTION ME!" I yell at her. "I will get right on the task sir."

And now only less than then assassins are left standing. One of the assassins took off its mask. It is a middle aged man. A man familiar to me. "El Morte," I said under my breath. It is the name of the guild. And the man who took of his mask is one of their first class assassins, Franco. I know him because we once fought but he escaped when he got severely injured. Didn't know he actually survived that. "Isn't it ironic? Werewolves are very strict when it comes to morality, and yet you are with an assassin from House of Spades?" Franco said playfully as his eyes drifted to me.

* I reached behind my back, my fingers finding the thick folds of the heavy crimson velvet. "You are quick for a sickly thing," the assassin said, taking two slow, deliberate steps toward me. He raised the curved blade, turning the edge so the green poison caught the faint light of the fireplace. "The rumors were wrong about your feet, but they were right about your blood. You will bleed just like any other common girl." I kept my eyes locked on his shoulders. Back in Ashvale, when the stable boys tried to corner the stray dogs, their shoulders always dropped right before they swung their sticks.

For a moment, it seemed like the conference would dissolve into chaos. Then someone made a move. A vampire from Moreau's faction—young, ambitious, clearly hoping to earn favor by taking down the upstart human—lunged toward the stage with supernatural speed. His claws extended, aimed at Jack's throat. He never made it. Three shapes materialized from the shadows—Void Kindred, their dark fur absorbing light, their yellow eyes burning with predatory focus. They intercepted the assassin mid-leap, driving him to the ground with a force that cracked the floor tiles.