Blackthorn Key Books Novels & Stories

The moment they stepped out of my view, I took a deep breath then I stepped inside the Mansion as well. I lifted my head up and stared at the both of them stepping into Lady Blackstorm's territory. ‘I wonder what Lady Blackstorm needs them for.’ I asked myself. I continued my adventure to Thalia's room, I locked up the doors to avoid anyone barging in on me. I brought out a book from under her bed then I sat on the bed. I wanted to continue reading about the Destiny Charts by Orin Darkhowl in his book Midnight Howls. CHAPTER SIX - Destiny Charts II

“Tell them I’ll be there shortly, Blackthorn.” The name rooted itself in my mind at once. Blackthorn. A flower with a hidden cost. “Yes, Your Highness.” Blackthorn turned to go, then paused. A thin draft curled from the window behind me; without a word, he crossed the room, reached past—but not into—the space Kael had occupied, and eased the shutters closed. The sudden hush stroked across my skin like warm cloth. He didn’t touch me. He didn’t need to. The simple, practical care made my chest ache in a way Kael’s nearness hadn’t.

Might have exposed her perfect world. I clenched my fists. “She killed him,” I whispered. “She killed him because she couldn’t control him anymore.” The rage returned, but this time it was focused. Controlled. Weaponized. I opened my laptop and began drafting. Not accusations. Rumors. Carefully planted questions. Why were files missing from the autopsy of Harrison Blackthorne? Why did a private nurse disappear after his death? What secrets does Victoria Blackthorne keep buried beneath her philanthropy? I wouldn’t name her.

But the message was clear. The heirs had failed. And Blackthorn wasn’t afraid anymore. -------------++++

She was gone, again the darkness had taken from him. There was no hint of remorse or sorrow across his face, only laser like focus of one hungry for vengeance. Grey fell to the bed plotting. Plotting war of different shades, preparing. Erebus was a revenge tossed aside for the moment, his main focus Thanatos. As the wheels turned in his head so did his eyes. They landed on a book sitting above others on the coffee table beside him.. THE KEY OF SOLOMON. Winked at him.. He read that book over and over again hoping to get prospects of what Fates plans were but he stumbled upon something greater.. a way to capture death in a death trap..

The words the Priestess had taught me rose to my lips, ancient and powerful: "By blood and bone, by moon and stone, I call to you across the void. Lucious Blackthorne, son of Kieran and Raven, brother of my heart, hear my voice. The light within you cannot be extinguished, the truth of your blood cannot be denied. Show me where you are held, that I may bring you home."

The pack howls again, and this time, it feels like laughter. Blackthorn is whole. The night is ours. And for once, I don’t mind being a little bit immortal. ***End of Book 1*** Thank you so much to all the wonderful people who read this book. These characters have crawled under my skin and set up camp. Knowing I’m not the only one who loves them, warms my heart. Please keep a look-out in the coming weeks for Book 2, where we follow Kieran on his journey to rebuild Silvercrest, and maybe finally find a love of his own. Blood Oath: A Different Kind of Alpha, by Quinn Montclair.

“I’m the tallest, so it will be easiest for me to read the titles on that one.” “I’ll take the shelf below,” Randy said. “I’ve got the next shelf down,” Russo volunteered, running his fingers across the titles of the books. I crouched down so that I could read the bottom shelf. Lisa took the one between Russo and me. For a moment, we were all silent as we read through the titles. Then Russo squealed and jumped on me, scooping me up and swinging me around. “We found the Key of Solomon! It’s right here.” He grabbed a book off the shelf and brought it over to the table, setting it down. “This is combined volume. It has both the Greater and Lesser Keys in it. So let’s finish scanning the bookshe

“This book is not a confession. It is a record. Of power, of violence, of velvet and blood. And of the people who lived inside it some survived. Some did not.” She stared at the word “record.” Too cold. Too safe. She added a line beneath it. “If I vanish, this is the map.” That stayed. The fireplace snapped behind her. She kept typing. “The man they called Blackthorn was not the villain. But he was not a hero either. He built the stage. He built the machine. Then he fell in love with a ghost who broke it.” Her mouth tasted like copper. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. She didn’t care.

“Doubt keeps you alive.” He reached for a book from the nearest shelf and flipped it open. The pages were blank. “Do you know why my library has no dust?” I shook my head. “Because the books breathe,” he said. “They exhale what others forget.” He offered the book to me. The pages shifted—faint outlines forming, fading, forming again. Names, dates, a line of ink that moved like a pulse: Evelyn Blackthorne arrived under a waning moon. I slammed it shut. “You’re writing my story.”