Blood And Ties Novels & Stories

But they went through it and with another hour gone, they had one more hour to be ready and prepared for the event. They rode right through immediately after and straight for the manor that was huge and heavily depended on the blood that had been spilled for the sake of the wealth on it. Danica gulped, her heart tightening at the thought. She stared at the beautiful manor and could see nothing but blood, blood that had been spilled for the sake of such wealth. Her system racked with anger and the tension that was once in the van had solely come on her. The suffocation within carried on as they walked into the manor and with each step she took, her legs only became heavier. The air was stiff

"The blood tether announced something ancient and impossible just happened at the Obsidian Throne. Packs are talking. Elders are whispering. The news has spread faster than fire in a dry forest." Nyx's stomach dropped. "How did they know? The tether was supposed to be—" "The tether isn't a private bond between two people," Rhael interrupted. "It's a connection to something older, something bigger. When it formed, it sent out ripples through the blood-magic network that connects every pack on the continent. The old wolves felt it. The ones who remember what the tether used to mean." "What did it used to mean?" Nyx asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Blood ceremony ties everything, not only their thoughts but their loyalty and dedication. "But very few of us knew it isn't enough," Dumeny continued. "By binding the blood of every member of your pack, you are not only gaining their loyalty but their strength and vigor. It is like a constant power source for us. You probably thought that it was a tradition, but it's still far away from the truth. Dumeny completed the last sentence and took out the knife out of his pocket.

Alpha Stephan held onto his shoulders, “She cannot die, do you hear me?” As I looked at Lord Stepahn, something weird happened, I felt something pulsing, something calling out to me from within him. He stiffened and looked at me, it was as if he felt it too. He looked at his veins, they were dangerously red and engorged, almost as if they wanted to burst out of his body. “My blood,” he gasped. “What?” Sir Claude sounded confused. “My blood,” his eyes narrowed as he kept staring at his veins as they spread out across both of his hands, all of them coming to the surface and pulsing with a light red color.

“That we’d thank you? That your flowers would bring my brother back? You’re naive. We’re Blackwoods. We have honor.” For a moment, only his breathing on the line. Then: “Look, I get it. More than you know. But we have nothing to do with what happened to your family. You and I… we’re called to become heirs. Whether we like it or not. We can sit back, do nothing, and let everyone bleed. Or…” He let it hang there. “Or we can try to stop it. Before it’s too late.” The silence felt heavy. My heart thumped in my ears. It was the stupidest idea ever. A trap, for sure.

Fear making him brave in the specific stupid way that fear does. She looks at him for a moment. Then at me. Something passes between us — not a question, not a request. Just information. Your turn for a moment. I push off the worktable. I cross to Caruso slowly, the way I cross to everything I've decided to deal with, and I take his right hand — zip-tied to the chair arm, fingers splayed — and I look at it the way I look at structural problems. Practically. Dispassionately.

It went through to her back and her face contorted in pain. “What’s wrong?” The look of worry on James’ face was instant. A warm gush spilled down her legs. They both looked down. It was blood, soaking her sweatpants. Too much blood. “Fuck,” James said, already scooping her into his arms and rushing downstairs. A distant memory of his stepmother going into early labor flashed through his mind. They’d lost them both that day, Jenna and his baby sister. Wrath never really recovered, never dated again, and kept his relationships to hook-ups only.

His knees hit the floor. The impact barely registered. “I—I think…” Nyxar sounded terrified. And that frightens Draven more than the pain. “What?” he demands through clenched teeth. “What. Do. You. Mean. You think?” “If you had doubts before…” The wolf’s voice cracks. Another surge of agony rips through them both. Draven screams. The sound echoes through the office. Then Nyxar whispers. “It’s the bond.” Everything inside Draven went cold. No. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Because mate bonds didn’t do this.

Leonard, meanwhile, sat at the head of the table with the men, his voice calm but commanding, like he was orchestrating a symphony only he could hear. Dinner began. Conversation buzzed. I tried to steady my hands as I lifted my glass, pretending the crystal didn’t tremble against my fingers. And then it happened. The wine slipped before I even realized it—scarlet liquid blooming like blood across the lap of Bianca Moretti, the wife of the rival boss himself. The hall stilled. Forks paused mid-air. “Oh God….” I reached for a napkin, mortified, but Bianca caught my wrist before I could dab at the spreading stain.

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, casually wiping away all that had happened between us. The impact was terrifyingly potent. I felt a lump in my chest, and I doubled over, coughing so hard it felt like my heart was ripping apart. When I finally caught my breath, I looked at my hand, covered in fresh blood. Keith saw it too. His expression darkened, and he was at my side in an instant, his voice deep with concern. "What's going on?"