Bloodlines Anime Novels & Stories

This time Leo leaves a hand on my shoulder and turns me to face Ben along with him. “Ben, this is Remington. Alpha Jamie’s son.” This one sentence changed the air around us. A new wind blew through the pack members as the truth of my bloodline was announced so simply in that one introduction. Whispers moved through the group but the loudest gasp came from right in front of me, standing next to Ben. For all the confusion this day held, I felt the worst for Mina right now trying to put pieces together she didn’t even knew existed.

Bellinor asked, confused. "No, there's a big difference; our princess has red and fine gold lines in her irises, giving the illusion of gold orange. The four remaining bloodlines are Orange, the Guild of Valencia; Yellow, the Guild of Blane; Green, the Guild of Bercilak; and Blue, the Guild of Cobalt.” “I see,” Bellinor answered unconfidently, still trying to absorb all the information Draven had just shared with him. He was surprised to have learned this news about his lineage.

I said, and Saga visibly shuddered. “There’s something seriously wrong with that guy,” Saga said, and William put his arm around her. “Can’t I just alter his memories?” “I’m not sure if that would work. The royal bloodlines are different, somehow. We’re less affected by powers,” I said. Malachi, Jessica, Kiran, and Adara had opted to eat dinner in my dining room, as they worked through the ledgers and books I gave them. Kiran also didn’t want to lose his temper and kill Rupprecht. I had agreed with that last part. It would be safer for everyone. Jessica had just laughed and said he might just break his neck the first time Rupprecht sniffed in any of their directions.

It is crude, uninhibited, yet it exists. "Why me?" I whisper, barely audible. "Why do I have this—this power?" Lucian is indecisive in response. The lineage of your blood is unique, Freya. With something old, some mighty thing it brings. But that will get you, too, a target. The words of his send chills up my spine. "A target for who?" "Everyone," he says simply. The rascals, Kane, even your pack, if they had known what was right.

The message wasn’t subtle, it wasn’t a hint. It was a direct threat, a direct warning. A direct claim. I bit my lip in anger as my grip tightened painfully around the edges of the tablet, almost crushing it while looking directly at the big screen. My Arianna, that weak omega, claimed by the Alpha king? ~ Flashback Ends ~ I was now back in the moment, out of my thoughts. The thin line of morning light had widened, slicing across the floor and catching on the TV screen like it was waiting for me.

Pack affiliations, shift forms, bond records. Nothing unusual. The second book was older. The leather cover was soft with age and the pages had that particular brittleness that came from decades of exposure to changing temperatures. I turned the pages slowly, not wanting to tear anything before I had read it. Lineage maps. Each line connecting one name to the next, generation by generation, with small symbols beside certain names indicating shift form, power tier, special designation. I stopped on a page near the middle of the book. The Guardian bloodlines.

"Elder Qian." He almost smiles. "The Void Lineage," he says, "is the oldest recorded bloodline in existence. Pre-empire. Pre-sect structure. Pre everything you've been taught as history." He taps the jade slip. "Three thousand years ago, the last confirmed carrier was documented. After that — nothing. The lineage was considered extinct." I wait. "Then sixteen years ago," he says quietly, "my monitoring formation registered a pulse. One pulse. From a village at the empire's eastern border." He looks at me. "From a newborn."

He pulled her into his arms, his palm sliding down the curve of her waist before grabbing her ass without restraint. Mia's cheeks flushed, but her body only pressed closer in submission, and yet Marco's eyes never once left me. "You're unhappy? You think I didn't care about you these three years? A man out there risks getting shot. Some things aren't within my control. "This time when I came back, the Godfather personally promised to put the docks under my management. I want you to obey my orders and continue being my mistress." I shook my head and said, word by word, "I'm already pregnant. I carry the Godfather's bloodline."

he says. "I know," I say. He hands the knife back to me, handle first. "Keep it," he says. "Next time, aim for the throat." Outside, the moon is rising—two days from full, heavy and pregnant with light. But in the portrait room, surrounded by the faces of women who had not been allowed to choose, I feel something shift. The bloodline is not a curse, I realize. It is a question. And for the first time, I am ready to answer it on my own terms.

“Now.” In the living room Damian had pulled out a whiteboard. Like this was some kind of war room. “Obasi wants the company,” Damian said. “He swapped babies twenty-eight years ago. Me and… someone else.” Marcus went completely still. “DNA test tomorrow,” Damian continued. “All of us. And the baby when it’s born.” Zara’s stomach flipped. “You think—” “I think Obasi wouldn’t be this desperate unless the bloodline was wrong,” Damian said.