Novel & Cerita Bloodmoon Strain

I sat on the steps leading down to the pavement and turned my head up to the sky. The moon was full, gracing us mere mortals with her light. As a halfbreed I had many shortcomings as a werewolf. I couldn't turn into an actual wolf. I didn't feel the pull of the moon and I didn't have a mate. I was destined to spend eternity alone. Spoiler Alert, I was exaggerating. I could find love, I could get married but there was just something about the thought of predestined love that held on to me and wouldn't let go. I wouldn't let it go. The thought of that perfect romance…was just a dream. I sighed suddenly, feeling sober. I stood to my feet and felt the dizziness return. I paused for a while until

“Magenta, rest. Adan will call Nikoa. I’m sure he’ll do it. It’s still early. The sun hasn’t even started to set—” “Brenna,” Adan cut me off. “The effects of the Blood Moon can begin before the moon reaches its full height. I want you to stay in your room until we’re married. I don’t want to take a chance—” “Nothing’s going to happen to me.” I bit my lower lip. “But if you think I’m letting you out of my sight tonight, think again.”

Then a shadow blocked the sky and MoonBlood was standing over me. He was clapping slowly, with that everlasting smile on his face. I knew he had been waiting for this moment. "Hayden," he said. "Hayden, Hayden. Smarty pants." "Please." The word came out before anything else. I didn't even think of my dignity or any strategy. "I warned you," MoonBlood said pleasantly. He walked toward me with that unhurried gait I knew him to have. He crouched down when he reached me and the smile on his face was enormous and genuinely amused and he pulled his fist back and hit me across the face with everything he had.

It bore the unmistakable mark of the Anti-Lycan Terrorist Group known as the Blood Moon, notorious for their attacks on lycans within werewolf territories. The video was a gruesome montage of violence, their actions narrated by a sinister voice promising more bloodshed and terror. My hands clenched into fists, and I felt a surge of anger and despair. The Blood Moon's message was clear: they had no intention of letting a single lycan live in peace within the Werewolf States.

“Come on. Let’s make a bond that’ll outlast the damn stars.” Pow! That power didn’t just hit him—it floored him. Literally. He went down hard, knees crashing, body jerking like a marionette on broken strings. Agony chewed through every cell—impossible to describe, like trying to paint pain itself. The Blood Moon’s pull crawled right into his bones, wove itself through his soul. Underneath all that suffering, though? Oh, there it was: sweet, stubborn control. No more waiting for the moon to get its act together. He could yank that cosmic juice into his veins whenever he damn well pleased.

Anderson had requested we discuss other matters and familiarise ourselves before bringing up the illness but as everyone settled in the room, I took a deep breath and spoke bluntly. “Silverstone will not be receiving weapon scraps or Ironclad metals for the foreseeable future.” Callum stiffened, his Beta snapped a sharp gaze at me and his son frowned deeply. “Why? We rely on that supply and you rely on what we give in return,” Callum said calmly. Anderson stepped forward. “Bloodmoon is facing a crisis.” “Its an illness linked to Snowbloom Wysteria and until we know how it entered our borders or find a cure, all Ironclad goods are banned,” I said plainly.

Lena had always hated full moons. Not in a dramatic, horror-movie way. Nothing that obvious. It was quieter than that. A restless hum under her skin. Nights where sleep never came easy and every sound outside her window felt personal, like the dark was aware of her. Tonight, the moon wasn’t silver. It was red. She stood barefoot on the back porch of her rental house at the edge of town, arms folded tight against the chill. The woods behind her stretched deep and black, the treetops glowing faintly under the strange crimson light.

And for the first time in days, Crescent Bloodmoon feels almost… normal. Almost.

Blood Moon has been climbing steadily in recent years, though, and after hearing my dad’s reports about how they handled the rogue attacks, I’m expecting them to bring it this summer, they are certainly all massive and look well trained. Sam is called in the first round, facing off against a Delta from Opal Moon. She’s good—better than I expected—and gives him a solid challenge. They grapple for a few minutes before Sam finally pins her. She struggles, but his hold is too strong, and she’s forced to submit. I don’t catch the exact time, but it’s a clean, quick win for him.

I turn around only to see him collapse to the ground, sweating, and breathing heavily. “What's going on?” My legs squat before him. He is struggling to let the words out, while his eyes are switching between red and golden. It didn't take me time to understand the Blood Moon is affecting Jay. He is going wild. *Why is it happening to him? I was sure Tessa had given him the antidote.” The cotton screamed in protest, not tearing along the seams, but violently shredding across the chest in an explosive burst. The fabric didn't just rip, it disintegrated into a blizzard of a million fluttering, worthless scraps, scattering against the damp air like startled moths.