Bloodlines Slayer Novels & Stories

"That looks like ancient script. Pre-kingdom era." I translated slowly, my knowledge of old texts barely adequate. "Prophecy of the Twin Flames. When darkness rises from the deep places, when corruption spreads unchecked, the goddess will act. Two bloodlines shall unite. Wolf and Lycan. Carrier and King. Together they will break the chains that bind the world to shadow." The words settled over us like a weight. "Two bloodlines unite," Asher repeated. "My mother's bloodline and yours." "The chains will break," I continued. "What chains?"

I carry the Godfather's bloodline. The air froze instantly. Marco's face turned a violent shade of red. The hand gripping Mia's backside tightened suddenly. She let out a muffled cry of pain but did not dare struggle. "What did you say?" The words squeezed out between Marco's teeth. His eyes locked onto my flat stomach, as if fire might erupt from them at any moment. The next second, his thick hand wrapped around my throat. "You've always been a rude little tramp. But at the very least, you shouldn't throw filth onto the Godfather."

"Your eyes are changing more frequently now." I froze. My hand unconsciously touched my face. The crimson flashes had become harder to hide. "How do you know about that?" "Because it happened before." He replied. The answer immediately sharpened my attention."Before?" The Hunter stepped closer. "Your bloodline is older than Blackthorn and Kingshade." "It is older than most of the packs currently claiming power." I lowered the blade slightly. "What bloodline?" He looked toward the trees like he was deciding how much to reveal. "Crimson Wolves." He finally said.

Miss, your clothes," Elena said as she came in with a tray of clothes. Clatter! Christine rose from the bathtub and walked out, and at that moment red light seemed to shine from the depths of her black eyes. (One hundred words omitted here) Clatter! The tray in Elena's hands fell to the floor, along with the clothes on it, but no one paid any attention. (Two hundred words omitted) It was more than an hour before the red light in Christine's eyes disappeared, while Elena had passed out more than ten minutes earlier. Every Bloodline Warlock will face the urge from their bloodline when they reach adulthood. As the name suggests, once this symptom strikes, they become impulsive, bloodthirsty and

“He wasn’t a wolf.” The room feels colder. My heart stops. “What was he?” I ask, though dread coils in my stomach like a tightening rope. She swallows hard. “A bloodline vampire. One of the old clans… He died before he ever knew Allyssa existed.” My jaw clenches. The pieces fall painfully into place. Bloodline vampires are rare, powerful, and ancient. If she inherited even a fraction of that blood… No wonder her shift was violent. No wonder she fought herself.

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.”

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 pull out a blade of my own and it slices his cheek, drawing blood. He slashes back with the silver blade, aiming for my throat. I duck, spin, slam my foot into his knee and he stumbles. We are locked in a deadly dance, steel and fury colliding in the narrow space. “You’ll never be more than a shadow,” he snarls into our mind link. “You think bloodlines matter? I was born from Nox himself!” I knock the blade from his hand, sending it clattering down the stairs and I pin him against the banister, pressing the edge of my dagger to his throat.

It was settled in her that she indeed had or was developing feelings for the guy, but at the same time, looking at him broke her heart. How could she see him as the same when he had done something as horrible as killing her parents? It was something that would hang over her for the rest of her life. And she felt stupid because why was she still falling for the guy? “And what about The Reaper?” Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. “We will deal with him when the time comes. Remember, you have royal blood. Although you don’t know how to properly fight yet, you were born a savior.” Lin had heard the word used before. Savior. When she was little, she used to hear it used a lot.

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.