Blood And Bone Novel Novels & Stories

He had crafted a three-year game of breaking bones and breaking hearts -- and in the end, the one whose pride was shattered, whose dignity was ground to dust, was himself. "Miss Holloway, it's cold out here. Please, get in the car." Pemberton held the door open for me with quiet deference. I pulled my gaze away. I didn't spare the dark shape at the end of the street another glance. I ducked into the warm, luxurious cabin. The door shut with a heavy thud. The black motorcade rolled over the fresh snow and carried on toward the gleaming heart of the city, leaving behind forever the legless beggar sobbing in the drifts.

The other blood races are called magic, but that kind of stone, it seems, is only available to the blood bats. As for the appearance of out-of-control Bloods in the city, Noah believes the second is more likely. Although the Bloods are out of control now, the real killer has not yet been found and he cannot let his guard down yet. After half a month of slumber, my body is still relatively weak, especially because I don't know how much blood Noah sucked out of me when he lost control, so I still feel a little numb to this day. Noah carried me back and before I got back to my room, I was leaning on his shoulder so sleepy I couldn't open my eyes.

The urge to go and walk around the castle more is strong, but I try to listen to my inner voice and I know for a fact that it is in my best interest to wait for Blade or one of the other Ambrose brothers to bring me out. I groan as I plop on my bed. I’m so bored and uneasy. I’m in a desperate need for something, anything to distract me. Pushing myself off the bed I decide to snoop around the room to try to find a book or something to keep me occupied. Finally a found a book titled, ‘the forbidden romance’. I roll my eyes as I see the cover show off a half naked man and woman and know that this is probably going to be smut more than anything else, but who cares. It’s something to read at leas

The title etched on the cover caught my eye, sending a chill down my spine: The Lineage of the Blackhollow Coven. Curiosity and unease warred within me as I opened the book. The pages shimmered faintly, a subtle glow that hinted at the magic infused within them. It wasn’t just a history - it was alive, recording the lives of those within the Blackhollow bloodline as they unfolded. My breath hitched as my name appeared in delicate, glowing script, right above Aurora’s. The sight made my heart ache and swell simultaneously.

Chapter 21 – The Age of Blood Valenfort’s sky bled red, a wound that would never heal. Ash from the Seraphim still clung to the shattered domes of cathedrals, falling like blood-snow in the night wind. This city — once a symbol of balance between human and vampire — now lay in chaos, decay, and despair. Evelyn Cross had vanished. Her silhouette dissolved into the black light of the ritual that sealed Azrael, leaving behind a torn world. But her death was not the end; it was the beginning of a new era where blood became law, and fear the only religion left.

I exhale loudly and make to snap the book shut but the sharp end prick my finger. With a hiss under my breath, I press my finger tightly as tiny drops of blood trickles down. The blood drops on the page and like a mystery, words begin to form, unraveling themselves. I watch with shock, my heart pounding against my ribcage at the swirling letters that aren't there before. As soon as it starts, the strokes end. I glance warily at my finger which has healed instantly and with my pulse spiking, I read the words; ‘Rare is the blood born beneath the crimson gaze of the moon,

Do their wolves smell different? And for the first time, I didn’t feel like a ghost in my own skin. In Bloodstone, I’d been a reminder of lack, of failure. Here, light seeped in through cracks I hadn’t even realized I carried. But light always casts shadows. Hers was named Selene.

Histories, myths, philosophies—every book was a whisper of the past. Ashara’s gaze stopped on a particular section on the far wall, its books older, darker in design, and faintly ominous. Something about the curling silver script caught her attention. One of the titles read: Nocturnae Vitae: The Legacy of the Blood Born. Her breath hitched. “Vampires?” she murmured, tilting her head.

She opens the book and a roach crawls out. I shriek, jerking my knees to my chest. Esme raises a brow. “You’re a wolf, and you’re scared of a roach?” “What’s a wolf without a wolf?” My smile is bittersweet. “Don’t do that,” she scolds. “You wolf will return. Now, when the rumours came, I consulted the books and some friends.” I try not to let my own thoughts scare me. “What did you find?” “You know, I’ve lived through almost seven decades, and I know a bloodline that had white hair. Moonblood.”

Eyes… deep crimson, the color of wine freshly spilled across marble. I didn’t just wake up in a different body. I woke up in a different world. And not just any world. One I knew far too well. I had read about this place before—in a book called Blood and Moonlight. A gothic fantasy where ancient vampire courts ruled the night from silvered palaces, where ruthless werewolf packs prowled the wild forests, and where an uneasy truce held between fangs and claws… until it inevitably shattered. It was a story of war. A story of betrayal. A story where love was as fatal as any blade.