Blood Of The True King Novels & Stories

​And lounging on that throne of bone, resting his chin on a pale, spindly hand, was the True King of Blood. ​He didn't look like a towering monster right now. He looked terrifyingly human. He wore tailored, immaculate crimson robes, his jet-black hair spilling over his pale shoulders. He had eyes this time—solid, ink-black orbs that swallowed the faint light in the room. ​"I must admit," the True King purred, his voice sliding through the air like venom, "I am surprised the dog made it this far. I expected his heart to shatter somewhere around the tree line."

she said, holding her palms to each other enthusiastically, adding, "I think we will bond in the future, and you, Has the king donated his blood for you? I asked her waiting for her answer and Celine stared at her in shock, trying to comprehend the horror of the information that invaded her mind in less than a minute. Next, she said, oblivious to Selene's faint features that seemed to have seen a ghost, "You are fortunate that he did, as the only one who gave him of his blood so far is Larissa, the king does not give his blood to anyone, especially since he is the only pure blood left of our descendants..... ..»

They controlled the vampire world from behind the scenes, manipulating events, pulling strings, and silencing any who dared to oppose them. She learned of the Blood King, a figure of immense power, a predator who had threatened to shatter their control. She learned of his reign of terror, his insatiable thirst for blood, his ruthless ambition. The Blood King was a force of nature, a tyrant who ruled with an iron fist, his power unchallenged, his cruelty legendary. He had amassed a vast empire, subjugating all who stood in his way, his reign marked by bloodshed and terror.

And behind him, a third figure emerged from the Vault—a man who looked exactly like the statues of the First Sovereign, the man who had founded the Council three hundred years ago. "The ransom is paid, Zora," Dante said, his voice a low, tectonic rumble that made the floor under my feet crack. "But the Council didn't just steal our lives. They stole the 'Original' bloodline. And the Founding Father? He’s not happy about what his daughters have done to his city." The man behind Dante wasn't a ghost. He was the True King, and as he looked at my mother, his eyes turned a cold, lethal white.

He took an involuntary step back, his shoulders slumped, the resentment in his face warring with the sudden, cold realization that he was standing on the losing side of a massacre. I looked at Caius, and for a moment, the King of the Blood-Stained Throne looked back at me. There was no pretense of a Vessel or a Consort. There was just the look of two people who had torn down a wall and found a battlefield on the other side. "Does anyone," I said, my voice steady, cutting through the terrified whispers like a knife, "have anything they’d like to add before we decide what to do with the rest of her?"

I folded my arms, trying to steady myself, heart hammering as his eyes flicked toward me just as the guard stepped back. “Ma’am, let’s go. The boss has arrived,” the guard said, calm but firm. My knees trembled as I lifted my gaze. “Who… who is he? Is he…?” I whispered, dread coiling tight in my chest, when suddenly his height felt strangely familiar. “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Evan Grant, our king,” the guard replied. WHAT! This is the evil I’ve been defying? Slowly, I turned toward the car he had stepped out of, the same black shade and model that had vanished into the darkness that night.

he asked softly Mave nodded as tears ran down her cheeks “you should not be crying my mave, not yet you are just turned losing that precious blood will hurt you... come let me feed you” he said holding out a hand “i am sorry my king” she whispered He smiled softly “do not tell the others im not sure i can share that with anyone else” he whispered pulling her into a hug Mave came hugging him tight “i love you my king... in case i havent said it” mave said putting her face into his shoulder crying on him

“You are my heir by blood and power, Elias. But Karl’s brother is my firstborn son.” Elias’s expression hardened. “So I’m not special anymore?” The Blood King laughed. “You were never meant to replace him. You were meant to complete what he began.” Elias clenched his fists. “I am not your weapon.” “Then prove it.” The Blood King extended his hand. A black flame appeared above his palm. Inside the flame was a vision of a young man standing alone in a dark room. He appeared to be around Karl’s age. His hair was dark, his eyes silver, and a black mark covered the inside of his wrist.

The iridescent golden-red aura flared outward in a massive, blinding shockwave of raw thermal energy, instantly vaporizing the royal tapestries hanging along the walls and turning the High King’s silver rapier into a drooping, molten line of useless liquid metal that dripped onto his boots. The High King shrieked, dropping the burning hilt as the sheer, unyielding majesty of the true bloodline pressed down on his chest like an iron weight, violently forcing him to his knees on the hard stone of his own dais. "Look upon the bloodline you tried to burn," I commanded, my fangs fully extended past my lips as a cold, predatory smile cut through my features. "And tell me who holds the right to the

I press my palm flat over her heart, where the bond sits, and I say the words I swore on my mother’s grave I’d never say again. Where she falls, I fall. “Adrian, wait” So I’m falling. Catch it. It starts as cold. Then it isn’t. The dark goes first. The shadow I’ve worn like a coat since the night I was turned peels off my shoulders and runs down my arm, and I watch it pour into her like ink into water. The cathedral gets brighter without it. I didn’t know how much of the room I’d been holding back. Then the gold. The royal blood, the divinity Williams spent centuries burning out of my family. It tears out of me through the open wound, hot and bright, liquid fire racing up my arm and out thro