Bloodmoon Strain Novels & Stories

“I’m going to pass out.” Dad stepped into the living room at that exact moment, holding a clipboard and looking like he was preparing for war. “Alpha Rowan’s pack is arriving by sunset. Blue Ridge in the morning. And Blood—” He stopped. Mom shot him a look that said, Do not even think about it. “What?” I asked, sitting up. “Blood what?” “Blood Moon,” Kieran said flatly. My pulse spiked. “Blood Moon? As in the Blood Moon? The ruthless warriors? The ones who single-handedly deter rogues from three borders away?”

The blood moon burned like fire above them. Finally, with a deep, primal roar that shook the standing stones themselves, Callum buried himself to the hilt and exploded. Thick, powerful ropes of hot cum pulsed deep inside her womb in heavy, endless waves. He kept grinding, chanting low in Gaelic as he filled her completely, stirring his seed deep until it overflowed and ran down her ass in thick creamy rivers, dripping onto the sacred ground. The ritual was sealed. He stayed buried deep inside her, breathing hard against her neck as the blood moon watched in silent approval.

Stooper crushed a handful of dried leaves into one of the bowls, then added drops of thick red liquid from a small bottle. "This is called Moon root and Alpha’s blood,” Stooper explained. “It helps reveal connections of the soul.”

"...What am I to you?" The wolf didn't move. He simply remained there, forehead against mine... As though protecting me from a pain neither of us understood. * •Third Person's P O V• Far away... Inside Gretonia's private caravan, a hooded figure stepped through the entrance. Gretonia looked up from the ancient documents spread across his desk. A slow smile crossed his face. "You came." The stranger lowered their hood. The silver crest stitched onto their cloak revealed their allegiance immediately. MoonBlood.

My legs feel heavy, as if the black earth wants to claim them, pull me down into the same memory it holds of all the others. A wind comes up, shifting ash in slow, eddying spirals. I tighten my cloak around my shoulders and step forward, ignoring the rasp of armor at my joints. I’m not dressed for mourning, but for intimidation: a breastplate chased with gold, the sigil of my House stark on the tabard. Still, there is no one left here to fear me.

He didn’t answer right away, but Noah didn’t need him to. He’d seen the way Damien had looked at Maya when she shifted—when Aurora had emerged, white fur and eyes like frozen flame. The prophecy had been whispered for generations: When the moon’s light crowns the sea’s daughter, balance will be broken, and the world will bow or burn. And now, here she was. Damien stood, pacing. “It has to be. No wolf has ever shifted like that. No wolf carries power that bends the airaround them. And the way she fought against Becca

Her knees buckled, and she felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the sudden surge. Kael’s hand shot out instinctively, gripping her shoulder with an iron strength that made her wince. “Step back!” he commanded, voice low but resonant, reverberating through the clearing. Rowan stepped closer, arms raised slightly, calm but firm. “Do not let them provoke you. Stand still. Control you’re…” He stopped, realizing that she couldn’t control the surge. Dante’s grin was gone, replaced by a rare seriousness. “Relaxing isn’t an option right now,” he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. “Feel it, accept it, but don’t fight it. Not yet.”

I recognize her instantly: Grand Luna Eve, the mother of Alpha Damon Moonblood. Beside her is another woman, younger, with kind eyes and a nurturing air about her. She’s dressed plainly, perhaps a nanny. But it’s the man standing at the edge of the group that steals my breath. “Nora,” he says again, his deep voice laced with something unrecognizable. My heart stutters as I meet his gaze. Alpha Damon Moonblood. The Alpha of the Moonblood pack. The powerful, feared man whose name alone could silence a room. He towers over everyone, his sharp features softened by an expression of… concern?

The night smelled of gasoline, rain, and danger. Isabella Russo sat in the farthest corner of the Velvet Rose, a half-filled glass of wine untouched before her. The stem of the glass was cool against her fingertips, but she wasn’t drinking — she needed her head clear. A single flickering light above her threw her into alternating shadow and glow, as if even the electricity couldn’t decide what to make of her being here. Her father had called this a “meeting.” In their part of the city, that word was just a softer name for trouble. When the Moretti family summoned you, you didn’t get to say no — you just hoped you’d be allowed to leave afterward.

“I can feel it. It’s calling me. The Moon wants me to finish what my bloodline began.” “What does that mean?” She met his gaze, fear flickering beneath the defiance. “It means it wants me to merge with it. To become the vessel it’s been waiting for.” Zevran’s hand tightened on his sword. “Then it’s not getting you.” A faint, bitter smile touched her lips. “You can’t fight the Moon, Zevran.” “Watch me.” Before she could answer, the ground shuddered. The air split with a sound like cracking glass. From the center of the courtyard, a pillar of crimson light burst upward, and the shadow within it began to take form — massive, skeletal, wearing a thousand faces of despair.