Blood Song Novels & Stories

I grabbed the hem of Felix's shirt, fixed a pitiful expression on my face, and mumbled, "I believe you, Felix." Felix's expression softened as he helped me back to my feet. Taking advantage of the fact that the other wolves' attention was still on us, I retrieved a document from my bag and handed it to Felix. "I accidentally recorded your pup's blood type as AB when I registered his information last time. The truth is, his blood type is O." Felix's face twisted as he snatched the document from me. An eerie silence descended upon the hall. Everyone knew that all the wolves of the Blackrock pack had type-AB blood, making it impossible for a pup with type-O blood to exist in the pack.

Drinking the holy corruption through my skin, channeling it into the brand, into the bone, into the place where Silvie slept and the Shard waited. I jerked my hand back, but the connection held, the golden light clinging to my shadow-silk like honey to a wound. The corpse's eyes moved. Not with life. With something else. A final reflex, a programmed response, the last gasp of a narrative that refused to let its characters rest. His lips parted, and a sound emerged, not voice but resonance, the frequency of the ley junctions, the harmonic of the Blood Moon's approach, the song that the ancient hunger beneath the Academy had been singing since the first murder.

Hearing that, the neighbors started cursing. "She already wired the funeral money and still won't admit it." "That really sounds like Lydia's voice. How cruel! Three people are dead because of her!" "The world has gone mad. She was speeding, and she's blaming the victims for the accident? I saw the video. She hit them before they even stepped on the crosswalk!" I turned to Maeve. "You told me the car was scraped and asked me to transfer ten thousand for repairs. How did it become funeral money? Besides, I've been sick the past few days—that voice is clearly edited!"

I grip the railing harder, my knuckles going white. The music fills the house, echoing off the high ceilings and the marble floors, turning the whole space into something hollow and aching. It moves through the hallway like it’s searching for someone, like it’s calling out to a person who will never answer. This is grief made into sound. This is what it sounds like when someone pours everything they’ve lost into their hands and lets it spill out onto the keys, hoping maybe if they play it right, if they hit all the correct notes in all the correct order, they can somehow bring back what’s gone.

Seraphina & Declan ✦ 18+ — explicit language, graphic violence, torture ✦ The basement smells like concrete and old water and the particular kind of fear that has been marinating for several hours. I know that smell. I've been in rooms like this before — not many, and not as the one asking questions, but enough to understand the architecture of them. The single hanging bulb. The drain in the floor that doesn't try to hide what it's for. The chair bolted to the concrete, which is a practical detail that tells you something about whoever built this room and how seriously they took their work. Declan built this room. Of course he did. The man in the chair is named Caruso. Nico Caruso, forty-thr

And as the night deepened and the music of the world swelled around them—the crickets, the wind, the distant howl of a wolf, the deep, steady pulse of the Titans, the silent, loving memory of the lost—Liora knew, with every fiber of her being, that the song had never been more beautiful. The story of Bloodbound was a verse. The healing of the world was the chorus. And now,they were singing the bridge—a bridge that led to a future they would compose, note by patient, loving note, forever.

Blood from my nose had run past my lips and chin, smearing across my cheeks and ears. The front of my shirt had long since lost its original color. It was soaked through with blood. The pool beneath me had spread to Derrick’s shoes, sticky and dark. “Harriet?” Derrick’s voice trembled. He called my name again. “Harriet?” Mom had been celebrating Sheila’s safe return. When she saw Derrick storm toward the storage room, she followed him. The sight before her made her scream. She covered her mouth and staggered back a step. Dad had been comforting the frightened Sheila. After hearing the commotion, he rushed over as well.

Scars crisscrossed his torso, each one a story of violence I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But it was the tattoo over his heart that drew my attention. Dark ink etched into his skin, forming words I couldn't quite make out. I squinted, trying to decipher the script. "Bound by blood, sealed in blood." The words sent a chill down my spine, a stark reminder of the dangerous world I had been thrust into.

She skims through the dusty, yellow papers while I observe her Rin silence. When she finds the page she was searching for she gestures for me to come over. “I think she was attacked by one of the Band of Blood. They are known for having received gifts from the Sun God himself. If I am correct the fog still festers in her blood. You marking her didn’t exactly help, it weakened her already fragile state. We need to clean her blood thoroughly, until there is nothing left of the fog.” She says.

She guided me to the center of the yard where moonlight pooled like water. “Kneel.” I obeyed. She stood before me. Lifted a blade from nowhere. Pressed it into her palm. Blood spilled like liquid lightning. Silver-red. Glowing. She raised her hand. I trembled. “Drink,” she whispered. I hesitated. Then obeyed. The instant her blood touched my lips— Fire. I screamed. The world fractured. She began chanting, her voice echoing unnaturally through the air. **“Sanguis antiquus, voco te…”**