Blood On The Leaves Book Novels & Stories

She was writing the script. As the sound of the gunships faded into the distance, Leo reached out and touched a leaf of the olive tree. When his fingers met the silver-green surface, the leaf didn't turn violet. It didn't turn gold. It turned a vibrant, glowing white; a new kind of life that wasn't in the Legacy Bank.

“You’re insane.” Adrian stepped closer, the faint scent of smoke and leather filling her senses. He tilted her chin up, his touch firm, almost reverent. “No, Elena,” he murmured, his voice softer now, though no less dangerous. “I’m obsessed.” Her pulse skittered under his touch. She wanted to pull away, to scream, to claw her way free. Yet, somewhere deep, the certainty in his voice rooted into her bones. Adrian’s thumb brushed her jaw, slow and possessive. “You’ll fight me. You’ll curse me. But you’ll never escape me. Because love isn’t always gentle, Elena. Sometimes it’s blood and thorns.”

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,

"Charles! Freddie! I don't care who was driving. Kill them both!! "Today, we need to avenge Rachel's family no matter what!" Charles stepped in front of me and turned to me with panic. "The footage didn't catch the face. What now?" He was right. Maeve had been careful; she'd even wiped fingerprints. It was obvious she'd planned this. Before I could speak, Maeve grabbed Freddie's arm. "Did you all see clearly? Is that me? Does that match my image? No wonder Lydia kept mumbling on the phone about running into some trouble. Turns out she hit someone!"

The food was definitely not ordinary, and I wasn't sure I wanted to fall under the influence of whatever poison he'd add to the food. I closed my eyes and leaned on the shelf, stretching my legs to ease the pain in my joints, but I soon noticed that the blood dripping from my wound had begun to sip into one of the books on the floor. In a split second, I already moved my hand away from the book, but in the process I mistakenly flipped the book open. I moved my hand in an attempt to stop blood from dripping onto the pages of the book, and as I was about to push the book away my eyes caught something on it.

At the center of the cover lies a raised symbol: a drop of blood, intricately detailed, as if about to trickle down the cover, appearing almost alive. The clasp of the book is a masterpiece of brutality and symbolism. Made of heavy metal, it is adorned with tiny skulls and bones, reminders of the lethal power contained within the tome. The clasp seems to demand a blood pact to be opened, with a small blade embedded, ready to make the necessary cut. When I finally open the Bloodbound Codex, I feel the temperature around me drop abruptly, as though the very air had been sucked into the book. The atmosphere becomes denser, heavier, as if the essence of the book were absorbing the vitality aroun

I needed to understand what was happening to me. I dressed quickly then slipped out of my room. The academy was silent. Everyone else was still sleeping. I made my way to the greenhouse. When I pushed open the door, I immediately noticed something different. There was a book under the stone bench where Rhea and I usually sat. She did this occasionally. She left things for me to find without explanation or note. It could be herbs sometimes, or small crystals she said would help me sleep. But this time it was a book. I picked it up to look at. The cover was dark green leather. The title was stamped in faded gold letters: Bloodline Magic and the Lunar Covenant: A Practitioner's Study.

He swallows hard. I close the book. Stand. Then—slowly, deliberately—I prick my thumb on the edge of Mother’s leaf pendant. A bead of blood wells up, darker than it should be. I let it fall onto the dirt between us. The shadows leap. They don’t attack him. Instead they swirl around my feet, rise in thin spirals, form the circle from the book without me drawing a single line. Violet light flickers at the edges. The air grows heavy, cold.

“They were out too far…for a reason. “Rodin says. Slowly, Rodin lifts his fingertips from the puddle. The blood drips back into the pool. The blood is thick almost like sludge and smells like rotten meat when it's cooked. Rodin flings the blood on the teal grass which cleans the shine on his armor. Rodin stands and he starts to walk to the tent with the flag. Varick looks over the pile. On his side is a satchel, he reaches in this compartment to pull out a book. The book’s title: “Book of The Blight.” Carefully, he sets his wolf helm down on a clean spot among the forest. The plate head sparks with pink electricity, causing the headpiece to slightly hover along with the grassy blade tips. Va

Maybe seeing me this way would turn him off, maybe then he would see me for the monster I was and finally give up this pathetic fantasy. Instead, he came closer to me seemingly unfazed, reaching his hand towards my face. I stood there unmoving and without stopping him like my head was telling me to, curious to what his intentions were. My eyes narrowed instinctively as his fingers caressed my chin moving slightly in an upward motion. The familiar tingle followed his movements. I realized he was wiping some blood away that had dripped from my mouth. His fingers lingered on my lips as I watched his eyes glow with intensity and I imagined he was witnessing mine darkening at the same time. I gra