Bloodlines Books Novels & Stories

My son was coming apart in my arms in the dark, and the only map out of it had been drawn by the man who wanted him dead. The silver was splitting Luca's skin faster than I could hold the doors. I had my forehead pressed to his, pouring everything I'd learned in three days of training into the threads of his blood, and it wasn't enough — I could feel the three bloodlines tearing at each other, each one wanting to be the only one, and the small body between them losing the war.

Slowly, I turned my head to look at Dante. He was still leaning against the table, his hand pressed against his bleeding side, looking at me with this profound, agonizing pity. He didn't look like a killer anymore. He looked like the man who had pulled a terrified toddler out of a cage and spent the next fourteen years letting her hate him just so she could keep her memories of her parents clean. I looked at my hands, the knuckles bruised from hitting his chest on the stairs. I looked at the files on the floor. For the first time in my life, the world was completely black and white, and I had absolutely no idea who the real villain was anymore.

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

Another impossible ability. Another piece finally fitting together. The book continued. Page after page. Bloodline after bloodline. Wind. Stone. Water. Metal. Dream walking. Nature affinity. Empathic bonds. Some gifts had become common. Others had almost disappeared. Then... A section marked with faded black ink appeared. Lost Bloodlines Chaos immediately leaned closer. "I don't remember those." Neither did Order. The first entry made my heart skip. Space Shifters The page described an extinct—or supposedly extinct—bloodline capable of folding reality itself.

They were testing the fences, looking for weakness in the new wolf. "Silence." The word cracked like a whip. It didn't come from Min. Elder Park, Underboss One, set his tea cup down. The sound was deafening. He looked around the room, his gaze heavy with decades of violence. "The bloodline is the law," Park rumbled. "The Chairman chose his heir. The Heir has cleaned the house. If anyone wishes to join Kang in his 'resignation,' speak now." The room went deadly still. Park’s endorsement was the seal of legitimacy.

“About Adrian.” My heart stops. “The turning,” Vera says gently. “It’s not permanent. Not completely.” I stare. “What do you mean?” “There’s a cure,” Lucira says. “One cure. The blood of the true mate, willingly given under the Bloodline Eclipse. Royal hybrid blood offered with love can burn the sire bond away forever.” I sit up too fast, head spinning. “You’re saying if I give him my blood during the eclipse…” “He’ll be free,” Vera finishes. “Human again. Or as close as he can get.”

Nothing about girls like me. I put it back and grabbed another one. Rare Bloodlines. My heart picked up speed, thinking maybe this was it. But when I opened it, it just listed old names and pack symbols and what Alpha sons had carried special gifts. I wasn’t even from a famous bloodline, as far as I knew. I didn’t even have a wolf.

The leather binding was cracked with age, the pages yellowed at the edges. "This is for you," she said, her voice measured and calm, betraying nothing of what she might think of me or my situation. "You'll want to read it soon." "What is it?" I stood, drawing closer but not touching the book. Something about it radiated importance, and I wasn't sure I was ready for more revelations. She tapped the leather-bound cover with one long, elegant finger. Bloodlines of the Forgotten. My breath caught, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

Damon’s voice cut in sharply. “He is an infant.” Cassian chuckled. “Not exactly.” A chill crawled along my spine. “What are you saying?” I asked quietly. Cassian paused. Then he spoke slowly. “This child carries two bloodlines that have been enemies for generations.” My mind froze. “What?” Lucian went completely still. Damon sounded furious. “You are lying.” Cassian ignored him. “The Vale bloodline,” he continued calmly, “and the Hale Alpha line.” My breathing hitched.