Bloodmoon Strain Novels & Stories

That night, as Jason shut his eyes, he saw flashes of himself, filled with rage, standing over a man he had shot dead. Other images of five men flashed in, lying lifeless in different positions, at different locations. He felt relieved, breathing the metallic scent of their blood before walking out of there. He was dressed as Black Moon and the wind played with his black jacket which was as dark as a heart void of forgiveness. He opened his eyes, watching the ceiling. "I'm almost there, Rose." He smiled and averted his gaze at Stacy before laying a soft kiss on her cheeks.

she choked. He didn’t stop. His voice went lower, more intense, every word an oath. “You hear me?” he rasped. “This ain’t over. This ain’t done. You are your mother’s daughter and my blood and Silverveil’s Luna. You hold. You don’t bow. Bloodmoon holds.” The world cracked. Baylee sucked in a sharp breath. That word — Bloodmoon. It hit her like a jolt directly to the sternum. Not just emotionally.

The air in the Maw didn’t just grow cold, it became thin, as if the mountain itself were gasping, outside, the Blood Moon had reached its zenith, casting a bruised, rhythmic crimson light through every fissure and vent in the stone, it wasn't just a celestial event, it was a cosmic siphon, Kaelen was using the Lunar Cult’s forbidden Tides to pull the child toward the surface, dragging the heir out of the dark before it was ready to be born.

"Today, I am not a warrior. I am merely a survivor." With a movement that looked like he was losing his balance from his injuries, he staggered forward. But in the midst of his unsteady motion, his hand shot out with unexpected speed, throwing a handful of silver flashes at Brahma Angkara. It was a rain of hair-thin needles, each forged from Soul-Silencing Silver and soaked for ninety-nine days in the rarest of poisons. The venom from the gland of a Moon Scorpion Flower—a mystical bloom that blossomed only under a blue full moon once a decade. A single drop could paralyze a Grandmaster-level Spiritual Beast in three seconds, turning muscle to stone and blood to jelly.

Brad chimes in before retreating into a corner of the room. "We received news from the south. The BlackBloods are preparing an attack on the MoonBlood pack tomorrow night, under the cover of the moonless night. Intel couldn't find out if it's the big one, meant to take over the pack entirely or not, but it's safe to say it is." Damon jumps straight at it and it takes all my self restraint not to look at Brad's face, trying to read it. "What about the MoonWalks? They'll just jump right over?" Andre asks.

“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?”

Blood Moon, Alpha, mate. Shit.

My vision started to get blurry as I tried to pry off his figers around my neck. Looking up I saw that the Blood Moon was at its peak and that is the moment that I surrendered everything to the darkness.

Blood Moon is a lie and a truth at once. The moon doesn’t bleed; we do. But the sky does turn to a bruise, and the light does arrive wrong—thick, red, as if the night has held its breath too long and is ready to exhale something we can’t swallow.

Somewhere beyond them, water flowed steadily, its soft sound helping to calm his restless heartbeat. The moon was high in the sky, a perfect circle with a hint of red coating it, something no human naked eye would ever be able to pick up. The Blood Moon. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath, never had he been more nervous about anything than he was now. It was then, the most heavenly scent he had ever smelt hit him with great force. It was sweet, fresh and intoxicating, so pure and addictive it stole the breath from his lungs, making him not to think straight.