Bloodline Plot Novels & Stories

With one suck of breath, she sliced her palm open and placed it above his lip to let the blood drop into his mouth. “Cassian,” she jerked him lightly after she had given him what she felt should be enough, but he didn’t come into full consciousness. Worried, she moved her eyes to where he had been shot and looked closely at it. She trailed her fingers over the root-like tattoo on his arm, the one caused by her, and she knew it was what connected them…at least in some way. She wondered if there was a way to reverse it. Rather than him bearing the pain, would it be possible for her to take them instead?

Was Jace really Dominic’s adopted son—or was he something far more dangerous? A pawn. A weapon. The lost bloodline of the Chevre, raised in the heart of their enemy’s house. The implications twisted through the decades of bitter feud, alliances broken, and lives destroyed. Jace Grey was no accident. He was the result of a gamble played by men who dealt in secrets. And now, knowing the truth, the observer smiled—cold, calculating. The game had just changed.

"I’ve confirmed it, Mrs. Ashford. Twenty years ago, Mr. Ashford fathered a daughter with a woman from the countryside. I collected hair samples from their home. The DNA test is underway." I looked at Adrian’s still-handsome face and felt nothing but disgust. He clutched my arm, frantic. "Please, help Serena. You owe her your gratitude. She saved my life! And besides, she’s your daughter." I had just brought Lila home from the hospital, yet he couldn’t spare a glance at his real child. Every word from his mouth was about Serena. I pulled out Lila’s scans to show him. He knocked them from my hands.

It didn’t even start with our parents. The records went further, decades further, showing people who looked like us, people who had facial similarities to us. This place had entire bloodlines mapped out like blueprints. It showed generations observed and catalogued like subjects, like parts of a project waiting for the right combination, the right era, the right moment. This wasn’t the rise of a villain. This wasn’t random. This was a bloodline strategy. It was something designed long before we ever breathed. A long game that had been waiting for us since before our parents met, way before our grandparents even came into existence.

Bloodline power was the only vessel that could contain ancestral skills and divine techniques of major families that had ascended to the higher realm. It was unmatched by sacred lands in Southsky, Midland and other regions. Though some founders of sacred land sects succeeded in becoming a celestial, it was essentially not possible to pass down their bloodline's power.

Old blood-magic, the kind that predates the current pack system, that goes back to when the Ashwood line was one of three foundational bloodlines on the continent and the rules about what was and wasn't permitted in working with inherited power were significantly less codified. "She was looking for a way to step into another wolf's bloodline," Jade said. "Specifically the Alpha inheritance line. If you could insert yourself into a bloodline's living record, you'd have a legitimate ancestral claim to the seat. Not a challenge. Not a coup. An inheritance." "That's not possible," I said.

In the centre stood a low altar carved from a single piece of black granite and on it rested a shallow silver bowl filled with dark water. “This is where the Bloodline Rite was first performed,” she said and rested her fingers on the edge of the altar. “It was never about crowning a queen. It was created to bind unstable bloodlines, to steady heirs born from two rival packs so the child could not be weaponised by either side.” She met my eyes.