Blood Music Novel Novels & Stories

I didn't want to have breakfast for fear of running into Darick. The door creaked as I turned the knob and entered the library. Dust particles still floated in the air, and I could barely see with the dimly lit chancellors. I walked down the aisles, holding my nose as the smell of musk filled my nostrils. I skimmed my fingers over the hardback books. Hmm, ‘Chronicles of the Blood Brothers.’ No, I don't want to read about the Blood Brothers' history. What's this? ‘Understanding your Supernatural Abilities.’

Lankko closed his eyes and heard the cluck of the chicken against the chirping of the many insects of the forest. "Enjoying your mud bath?" Lankko heard Enzir's voice. He opened his eyes and saw the muddy face and body of his master. Lankko sat up and tried not to laugh at his master's appearance. "What do we do now, Jad Enzir?" he asked. ******* Author's Note Thanks for reading! If you like the story so far, please show your appreciation by leaving a good review and giving this novel a good rating. P.S. If you're interested in horror, check out my other novel also in GoodNovel entitled 'Vampire of the New World'. I also have a paranormal romance novel entitled 'Entice the Moon to Fall'.

My head is filled with the sound of bees. I’ve heard of blood madness before. Baron and Darma discussed it often. He said it was becoming more common. I sink to the floor and look up at Aldric who is busy closing the door behind Vesper. “What is blood madness?” I ask. “Is it like…when neophytes lose control and start to drain every human in sight?” “No, that’s not the same thing. It means something went wrong when Baron tried to make your mother.” “What?”

The rhythmic pounding of my heart echoed the impending chaos. BLOOD... BLOOD... BLOOD... MORE BLOOD... With every calculated step towards the shivering man, a primal satisfaction built within me, fueled by his life which I held in my hands. The scent of gunpowder lingered in the air as I revelled in the dance of danger. The sight of crimson staining my surroundings only heightened my pleasure, a twisted canvas of satisfaction painted in red.

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

Chapter 1: Blood Debt The warehouse smelled like rust and death. Luca Rossi stood over the body, chest rising slow and steady, the only sound in the sudden silence. Marco Vitale’s eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, vacant now, blood pooling dark and thick beneath his head. One clean shot—center mass—then two more to be sure. Message delivered. Luca wiped his hands on a rag one of his men handed him, though the blood had already dried under his nails. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

Masked. A gun. No— BANG! The sound thundered through me. My head struck the pavement first before my body. Voices. Screams. My vision blurred. Darkness crept in from the edges, swallowing everything slowly. “Someone call an ambulance!” The words echoed. My last breath slipping out of me. --- "TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK TWO."

Mommy and Daddy were dead. Cobra might be dead. Tyron might be dead. I was tired. So tired of running. Maybe if I died, I would see them again. That thought made me feel sad but happy. I opened my mouth and swallowed the liquid on purpose. It burned down my throat like hot pepper. My eyes watered. My chest felt tight. The world started moving strangely. The trees leaned sideways. The red glow stretched into a long line. The men’s voices sounded far away, like they were underwater.

He knew the kind of monster his Lord was. Even in the darkened room, he could still see what was happening before him, since he was a night creature. The red thread and the coffin began fading into nothingness, revealing the two people floating in the air while still embraced together. What could be heard in the darkness was the humming and cracking of bones, as though a body was remolding. The sound was eerily creepy and nerve-wracking, but not for someone like Butler Thomas — to him, the sound was like music to his ears.

He inhaled again, deeper this time, letting the scent flood his dead lungs. Blood. But not like any he'd tasted these past few days. It carried notes of petrichor and fire—like rainfall sizzling against hot stone. Sweet, but powerful. Innocent, but riotous. It ignited every nerve in his body like lightning crawling beneath skin. Lucien stood, slow and deliberate. A tremor pulsed beneath the marble floor, awakened by his sudden hunger. “Who bleeds like that?” he muttered to himself in the dark of his room, his voice hoarse, as though speaking threatened to undo his control.