Blood Line Book Novels & Stories

“She’s terrifying!” Hero said. “That doesn’t seem like Zayne! He’s possessed by his father’s spirit!” Dylan exclaimed, earning a smack from Hero. “Damn! Bloodline really makes a difference! Look at him—Gray lineage, the sharpest in business, while Claire’s lineage carries noble blood and excels in combat!” The two fell silent when Zekiel shot them a glare, so they quietly followed him to the hideout. When they arrived, the child reached up to his father.

"The Codex was on the third shelf from the back wall, left side." "Do you think it's still here?" Denice asked. "If it's not then we'll have to stay to find it" "What's in it?" Valkyrie chimed in. "Everything." Zara stepped over a collapsed shelf. "Bloodline records going back six generations. Hybrids. Curse genealogy. If anyone has written down where these things are coming from, someone in my family collected a reference for it." Valkyrie started clearing a section of floor with her boot, systematic and unhurried. Denice began righting the shelves that were still intact enough to stand, which gave them somewhere to put things as they moved through the wreckage.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Dominic growled. The documents in front of him told the same story Faro just did, but he didn’t want to believe it. He was pissed that Eris kept his problems to himself. Dominic would have helped him, he’d always help all of them, blood was blood and they were bound by it. They all had the middle name ‘Rose’ for a reason. It was their mother’s maiden name and for them it was as strong as the blood that made them family.

"You never cherished her when she was alive. And now, you only start to regret it once she's gone? Is your love that cheap?" Zach said nothing as he looked down. He finally found his chance, slipped past Wade, and rushed to the urn. He saw the name "Annie Carter" clearly engraved on it. His face turned ghostly pale in an instant. Zach reached out with shaking hands, blood from his forehead dripping onto the urn. He wiped the blood away with his sleeve, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get rid of the stain. He bent over, hugging the urn tightly, his voice hoarse. "How can such a small urn hold all of you? Come home with me, okay?"

Pack affiliations, shift forms, bond records. Nothing unusual. The second book was older. The leather cover was soft with age and the pages had that particular brittleness that came from decades of exposure to changing temperatures. I turned the pages slowly, not wanting to tear anything before I had read it. Lineage maps. Each line connecting one name to the next, generation by generation, with small symbols beside certain names indicating shift form, power tier, special designation. I stopped on a page near the middle of the book. The Guardian bloodlines.

“You work for him?” “I worked for the Order before any of you were born.” She stepped closer, and the air warped around her like heat. “You think the bloodline began with wolves? You think this is about packs?” “Then what is it about?” “Balance.” The ground beneath me split slightly, faint lines glowing like magma. “I don’t believe you.” “You don’t have to.” Her gaze flicked to the horizon. “He’s alive. The bond would have broken if he wasn’t. You can still feel him, can’t you?”

“My only job today is to make sure you don’t give birth. The Falcone heir can’t be a bastard.” "He's not a bastard!" I used my last ounce of strength to protect my stomach. "I told you, he's Darren's child..." I felt a warm gush of liquid between my legs. It was blood. A lot of blood. "Stop... please, stop..." She paid no attention, continuing to kick and punch me. "The Falcone bloodline will not be tainted!" Despair washed over me. I knew my baby wasn't going to make it. I lost consciousness completely.

He has been down here for four hours, which is nothing, which is routine, which is what he tells himself. The blood-sense has been smoking for eleven days. Two hundred and sixty-three years he's had it. Since the night in 1762 when a woman named Elise, who turned him against his own considered wishes in a Viennese cellar during the Seven Years' War, pressed her wrist against his mouth and said, you'll understand in a moment, and he did. He understood immediately. He felt his bloodline snap into place the way you feel a map unfold — the specific geography of everyone who had ever come from Elise, and everyone who had come from them, a web of thirty-seven souls distributed across Europe like s

In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black. "There is a beautiful vulnerability to the human body," the Director said. He sounded entirely conversational, his voice smooth and untroubled over the sound of my ragged, choked breathing. "We think we're so strong, so invincible when we're running through the shadows. But we're really just water, bone, and nerves. And nerves, Elara, are so incredibly easy to manipulate. They are the ultimate biological design flaw."

Elias nods slowly, “but earlier versions.” He flips several pages. Each one shows a different structure. Lines added. Lines removed. Threads rerouted. Someone refining a design. Gran moves toward another shelf. Her hand freezes over one document. “No..” She lifts the paper slowly. My eyes catch the title scrawled across the top in someone's hand writing. Bloodline Stability Trials My throat tightens. Eirik steps beside her. “What is it?” Gran swallows hard, “he was tracking the Alpha line.” She flips through the pages. Each entry lists names.