Blood Song Novels & Stories

My head snaps towards the precious little voice of my perfect little lady, a huge grin spreads across my face “Noooooooooooooo!” ‘BANG!’ Drakes scream lingers on as the bullet hits my stomach, the force flinging me back, i fall with a crash, drake jumping on me to save me from the bullet but it was a moment to late. I felt a warm gush of blood flow from my stomach as ben roars, taking the machine gun he shoots down whoever shot me, drake pulls away, tears streaming down his face “No no no nooooo” He cries, i gasp trying to catch my breath, drake shakes his head, his heart breaking as he screams, grabbing his shirt he rips it of his back and he holds the shirt against my wound

"That was for thinking you could disrespect me in my own establishment." "Please! Stop!" But I wasn't done. I grabbed a bottle of wine from a nearby table and smashed it against the edge, leaving me holding a jagged glass weapon. "Open your mouth," I commanded. "What?" "I said open your mouth, or I'll cut it open for you." Trembling, he complied. I shoved the broken bottle between his lips. "Drink your own blood," I ordered. "Taste what happens when you cross me." The man sobbed as he was forced to swallow his own blood, tears and crimson streaming down his face.

“Blood, Word, Breath. Break any and the stair erases your ascent.” Taren swallowed. “What happens if the stair erases us?” “You forget up,” the figure said, almost kindly. “Some prefer that.” They descended. ⸻ The chamber of Blood was small, round, plain. A bowl cut into the floor collected melt from the ceiling in slow, patient drops. A wafer of ice rested on a plinth beside it. Three channels had been carved there: two whole, one shallow. Kaelira’s wolf paced. Teeth and ritual, Ardyn said, unimpressed. Pick one.

But I just could not help it any longer, being face to face with a wolf had everything flooding into my brain, and I wanted to scream my lungs out. Blood. It was blood that I saw. My parents' blood, spilled on the wooden floor around their heads. I saw their lifeless eyes and still bodies, and wounded faces. I saw my eleven year old self crying and screaming for them to wake up and look at me again, to call me their baby again. But that did not happen, it never happened. And I saw the people that had done that to them, their smug faces and crooked smirks, their hands stained with the blood of my parents, and the set of tattoos on one of their forearms.

“Fucking bastard.” Dominic turned to look at Hudson, and grinned through his pain. “Gage said you have a girly voice.” “The fuck I do!” Chuckles erupted as Hudson walked closer to Dominic, and wiped the blood from his eyebrow with a handkerchief. “That’s going to leave a mark.” “He always marks me somehow. Let’s get the fuck out of here. I need a drink,” Dominic said.

Their sighs, moans, groans, grunts echoed into the night. Raziel squeezed the soft skin of her butt as he came undone inside of her. His hold on her suddenly tightened as the need to take her blood came over him again. Her body was satisfying his masculine sexual needs, but he needed her blood to satisfy his vampiric needs. Ever since he tasted her blood, he confirmed that she was the sweetest he had ever tasted, and he had tasted many siren blood. It also made him consider the possibility of her being a siren.

“Yes, mater. I will serve ye until my last breath.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pulled my thoughts away from Jones’ past. I only knew this because I’d gone through the history books kept in the cellar, stumbling upon a journal from the time of Grace Bloodsworth. Her tone had sounded regretful as I brushed my hand over the dark red-ink, my eyes eating up the sorrowful words. I knew without a doubt that she had use her own blood to write it.

She felt it in her bones: something heavier than weather. Ethan noticed, he leaned close, voice pitched for her ears alone. “You okay, Moonbean?” She nodded once, small fingers tightening around her cup of warm cider. “It’s close.” He didn’t ask what. He simply rested his hand on the back of her chair, a silent promise. The music swelled. An elder rose to begin the oath recitation. Three hundred voices joined in low, reverent unison, “We are Blood Moon. We are one heart, one fang, one future...”

Chapter 1: Blood Debt The warehouse smelled like rust and death. Luca Rossi stood over the body, chest rising slow and steady, the only sound in the sudden silence. Marco Vitale’s eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, vacant now, blood pooling dark and thick beneath his head. One clean shot—center mass—then two more to be sure. Message delivered. Luca wiped his hands on a rag one of his men handed him, though the blood had already dried under his nails. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

She knew: if completed, no return. Wind whipped her hair, blazing in moonlight. “The Age of Blood ends here,” she said softly, “and I’ll be the last to carry it in my heart.” As she crossed the crumbled gate to the Blood Sanctuary, a blood drop fell to stone — spreading like an opening petal. In the crimson glow, an ancient song rose — cursed souls’ hymn. Behind, Lucien raised his head to the fractured moon. A cold wind pierced him, carrying Evelyn’s whisper — distant, faint, but never gone: