Blood On The River Book Novels & Stories

Alpha Lorenzo The week had passed by in a strange blur. Everything seemed perfect on the outside—smooth and predictable, like a river gliding over rocks. But beneath the surface, I felt an uneasy current pulling at me, something I couldn’t explain. I had dreams, nightmares really, that wouldn’t leave me alone. Each time I lay down, the same scene would unfold: the River of Blood, a dark crimson flow that seemed endless, pulling me in and suffocating me. Then the pain would hit.

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.

“Sammy is getting torn apart by his father by now. Victor is surrounded by enemies who smile to his face. I cannot just sit here and read while everything burns.” “And you cannot keep acting like you are invincible,” she snapped. River rubbed his face with his hands. “Jayden,” he said carefully, “did you even finish reading that Gem of Life book.” I froze. “…No,” I admitted. Jane made a sound like she was about to scream into a pillow. “I actually read the whole thing,” River continued, and I turned to him in shock. “I wanted to understand how a human like you can do all this. And also if I could do it too.”

I was already dropping to the ground, gathering River into my arms, cradling his head like it was the most fragile thing in the world. “River,” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears blurred my vision. “Baby, no, no, no… stay with me. Please. Stay.” His eyes fluttered, just barely, and that was enough to split me open further. His lips moved, but no sound came out. A trickle of blood slid down the corner of his mouth, painting his skin. I pressed my forehead to his, rocking him slightly, as if the motion could keep him tethered to me. My tears fell onto his face, mixing with the blood, and I didn’t even bother to wipe them away.

The blood wouldn't come off. No matter how hard I scrubbed, no matter how raw my hands became, it stayed there, a dark stain that seemed to sink deeper into my skin with every passing second. I crouched by the riverbank, the cold water biting into my fingers as I rubbed them together, my breath coming in short, panicked gasps. The night was quiet now, the battle behind us, but my mind was still filled with the screams. The gunfire. The bodies.

I bought my Book of Shadows with me because this will be useful for us and for the twins in the coming days. "My feet is aching father. Can't we rest first?" Yve said while gasping for air. Their snow white skin had been stained by dirt because of earlier but nonetheless they are okay. Levi refused Yve's wish to rest first. That is a good decision because those people might still be after us even though what happened earlier. He even encouraged the twins to walk faster and steadily. We still have a long walk to go farther north. I was planning to let ourselves stay to that old lady I met many weeks ago. I hope she agrees.

She opens the book and a roach crawls out. I shriek, jerking my knees to my chest. Esme raises a brow. “You’re a wolf, and you’re scared of a roach?” “What’s a wolf without a wolf?” My smile is bittersweet. “Don’t do that,” she scolds. “You wolf will return. Now, when the rumours came, I consulted the books and some friends.” I try not to let my own thoughts scare me. “What did you find?” “You know, I’ve lived through almost seven decades, and I know a bloodline that had white hair. Moonblood.”

Anahita Waterwolf POV We waterwolves have resettled on the banks of the Dream River that runs through the place once known as the Barren. Though to use the word 'barren' in relation to this magnificent place feels ridiculous. Many mornings I sit on the balcony of the packhouse, before the pack stirs, gazing out at the churning, roiling, foaming waves of the river, its banks densely packed with rich, dark mud. The colours of the river at dawn--blue, mauve, purple, indigo, green--remind me of the lifestone and that night when the poison was driven out. The lifestone disappeared, it's work done. And Silvia's iron--the physical iron anyway--was also gone.

“I want to know every person he speaks to, every move he makes, every breath he takes until that hearing.” My voice dropped, cold and precise. “If he so much as sneezes—” I tilted my head slightly, “—I want a report.” Silence stretched for half a second. Then Alpha Rain’s mouth curved, something sharp and approving settling into his expression. “Consider it done.” Then I looked at River, who had returned from the woods. His human skin was covered in dirt and blood—not his own. His eyes were still burning with the promise of murder, his wolf barely leashed beneath the surface.

Lyra said. Adrian took off his jacket, turned around, and threw it toward her. He then watched as Lyra climbed out of the Blood River, and the strong smell of blood almost overwhelmed him. The strange thing was that the bloody water didn't leave any traces on her body. Once she was out, the bloody water flowed off her and returned to the river. "Pervert!" Lyra said unhappily after putting on the jacket. Adrian didn't care about the girl's misunderstanding and instead asked curiously, "Isn't the river filled with blood?"