Bloodlines Sl Novels & Stories

“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.

“That’s truly shameful, more so than a surname ever could be.” “Really?” he snapped. “So you think a pack trying to protect themselves by removing someone with an infamous past, is worse than having the same infamous surname as two different known killers? Really?” “You’re shaming me!” I exclaimed at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Aren’t I your mate? Aren’t you supposed to, oh, trust me?! What could I ever do to you?” There was a beat of silence. “Your father never killed his alpha, only his beta.”

Nathan quickly interjected with tangible vexation at the sound of my father's choice of words, earning himself a scowl from him. "You shut up," He swiftly bit back at him with a pointed look, making him bristle as he peered between the two of us, but thankfully didn't continue arguing. Blowing out a tired sigh, my father lowered himself into a crouching position so that he could be at the same eye-level with me, resting his elbows over his knees as he started to explain, "Carina, we're...You, and me and your sister, we're not humans either. We share an ancient bloodline, the shaman bloodline. Our veins are filled with magic,"

The woman’s face twisted in grief. “Forgive me,” she whispered. A tear fell. The massive silver tree absorbed it, light pulsing outward like a heartbeat. The vision shattered. I gasped as the pressure returned, heavier now, more insistent. THE BLOODLINE ENDS IN YOU. THE BLOODLINE AWAKENS IN YOU. THE BLOODLINE CHOOSES THROUGH YOU. My thoughts splintered. Faces I didn’t recognize flickered behind my eyes. Voices I’d never heard screamed in languages I somehow understood. Wars. Sacrifices. Promises made to moons that did not forgive.

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.

She looked at him, concerned but nodded. He opened a link to the Mora pack. Luca could sense fear and suffering. He was able to focus on the terror emanating from one warrior. The Mora warrior was highly agitated. Haunted by flashes of his pack mates ripped to pieces, then Luca saw it. The massive wolf was entirely black with menacing blue eyes. His teeth were bared and dripping with blood, and the vision vanished. Luca knew the beast was not a Zeta. He would have sensed it.

Thorne nodded towards a tree stump and headed towards it. We were seated when he started. So I left her sleeping by the watchfire and went to find Thorne. He was sharpening his blades outside the war tent, like always. Even in peace, he kept preparing for blood. “Have you ever heard of the Chimera line?” he asked me. “Yes,” I nodded. “But only as a myth. Fairy story. Born of wolves and spirits. The story says they were banned a long time ago for dark powers.” “They were lycans, or so Yvette said.” Thorne raised a hand. “Royal ones. Carriers of two bloodlines.”

“Well, try to explain it to me somehow.” A few people shift and Alaric’s lips twitch. I shoot him a look and he pretends to stop smiling. The healer clears her throat. “Blood carries more than life. It carries lineage.” I listen to her as she continues. “In werewolves, particularly within powerful bloodlines, that lineage can be recognized.” She looks toward Alaric. Then Elias. “As such, an unborn pup will carry traces of its father’s bloodline.” “And the ritual can identify it.” I finish for her.

But how? Rebekka, tell me, how does someone with a Bloodline such as yours end up as a slave? Damon’s voice was clear in my head, was that it? My bloodline? My blood? My eyes widened in surprise, that was it, it must be my blood… that was why Lord Stephan recovered from wolfsbane poisoning. I was jumping up and down in excitement now, a crazy idea had crossed my mind.

A throne forged generations ago, carved from the ancient spine of the mountain pack lands and reinforced with black iron and shadowsteel. Its high back rose like the wings of a great beast behind me, sharp edges and silver patterns marking every line, the symbol of Shadowcrest’s dominion. My cape of dark fur spilled down the steps like a river of night, pooling at my boots. My posture was relaxed, but the air around me wasn’t. Power hummed from my skin, crackling faintly like a storm held deliberately at bay. No matter how long I sat here, no one ever forgot what my presence meant, what my presence felt.