Blood-red Commander Igris Novels & Stories

Kael’s voice barked from the darkness. From the ridges above, over a hundred armored figures clad in the blood-red crest of the Southern High Council descended like vultures. At the forefront marched Commander Vane. He was a towering Alpha, his armor polished to a mirror sheen, carrying a massive, double-handed broadsword that gleamed under the blue light of the Null-Stones.

A thousand soldiers stood at attention in the square, their uniforms neat, their eyes solemn. Beneath the towering flagpole stood a tall man in black armor Commander Picsis, my former instructor in the Wolf Fang Special Forces, now the leader of the Black Flame Legion. In his hands rested a carved ebony urn my parents' ashes. Viserys took the urn reverently and placed it in my arms. "The heroes of the Empire have finally returned home," he said softly. Then he bowed and thousands of soldiers followed. "Salute to the heroes of the Helian Empire!"

The One-arm Lycan Commander finished delivering his bidding to his informant and turned back to our circle. “So where were we?” He drove his eyes from me to Isla and finally back to me. “Right! I was about to rip your hands out of their sockets and then pluck your eyes out. Slow death.” He throated with a crooked grin and the Lycans holding me, straightened me up for his convenience. “W- what’s going on?” Isla muttered weakly, calling everyone’s attention to her. She had voiced weakly but the glare plastered on her face betrayed the weakness of her voice. She was glaring at the Lycan Commander.

The male was larger, almost at the same height as Rygan. “Brother,” the male says as he walks in fast, wide steps, taking Rygan into a deep hug. His rich pine scent spreads with Rygan's mint and cedarwood. “El, this is Tazmin Brams, the commander of the Blood Moon troops and second in command, as well as Alpha Rygan's sworn wolf brother, Tazmin. Elise.” “It’s nice to see a prettier female than these ugly faces,” he joked with a strong accent that was more intense than Rygan’s voice. With a friendly smirk.

He glanced at her with concern and then picked her up to carry her bridal style. “I apologize, I took a little more than I intended to.” He said apologetically. “Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. “I will be once I’ve hunted. But first I want to make sure you’ve eaten and drank something to help you replace the blood I took and what you’ve lost with your head wound.” “I will take her to her room.” The commander stepped forward with an angry scowl. “I remember the way to my infernal prison, fear not, Commander.” She retorted angrily.

Regnar stepped to the side, his hand resting tightly on the hilt of his broadsword, his eyes fixing onto the back of Marcus's neck with absolute disgust. "Stand up, traitor," the commander ordered smoothly, his voice cut with a fierce, unyielding pride. "You are addressing the Sovereign of the Citadel. Keep your eyes up and your tongue straight."

A red light appeared before the Grims. It looked so thin and harmless. However, it was emitting a cold aura of death, making all of the Grims feel like they were plunging into an ice cave. The red light was moving quickly. In a blink of an eye, it silently arrived before Marino, the strongest grandmaster of the Grim family. When Marino tried to stop it, the light penetrated Marino’s body like an infrared ray. It moved unhindered and amuck, penetrating all the Grims in a blink of an eye.

One stood out. Dorrin. I had heard of him long before today: the Royal Commander of Eradrakor’s armies, victor of the wars that had bound these kingdoms in alliance. The stories hadn’t done him justice. Turquoise eyes like polished steel, broad shoulders, a wild crown of red curls. The kind of man others follow without being asked — the kind you would think twice about crossing. I noted him the way you note a drawn blade in a crowded room, and looked past him.

Bloody whip marks littered his body, and so did bruises and cuts. The Omega sobbed as the commander thrusted in and out of him with noise-canceling headphones on. He hated the sound of the Omega's cries, and always wore them when he fucked him. Smoke filled the room as shade threatened to shift and send the bastard to hell. Maverick quickly stripped, knowing he'd need his clothes when shade was finished. In an instant, his large beast stood behind the commander, hovering over him. It wasn't until burnt warm breath fanned the back of the Commander's neck that he sensed something was wrong and froze.