Bound By Blood Novels & Stories

"Pure and true? Love is but a weakness, a vulnerability that can be exploited. Your actions threaten our entire bloodline." My heart pounded in my chest as I confronted the fury of the vampire elder. In that moment, the weight of our choices and the consequences they carried became crystal clear. Yet, I refused to let fear extinguish the flame of our love, a bond that defied the rigid boundaries set by tradition and society.

I reached for her, but she recoiled as though my touch burned. The weight of forbidden love, of a mate bond we could never consummate, crashed over us. My wolf howled in agony, clawing at the cage of my chest, rage and devastation tearing through me. Because fate, in its cruel twist, had made me her mate and her brother. How do you walk away from the one person the moon destined for you, when they carry your blood?

If my fingers had not curled around the rim of the cup, I would have shown him the map of moons and old vows burned into my bones. The bonds of the Moon were not knots a woman could untangle with a single stroke. I set the cup down with a deliberate clink. “Not by my hand.” I let the words hang, soft and certain. “By blood.” Malek made a sound that could have been a laugh if it hadn’t been laced with cruelty. “Rogues slip the borders. Accidents happen. A man falls from a cliff. A hunting party strays. The world is hungry for weakness.”

Kenneth’s gaze met mine, black, unyielding, feral, and the words he spoke were a command, a tether, a promise: “Do not move. Not now. Not ever. And whatever happens, stay with me.” I nodded, trembling, chest heaving, every fiber of my being screaming both fear and desire, because in that moment, I understood with absolute clarity that I was irrevocably bound to this man, this storm, this violence, and that nothing, not bullets, not men, not fire could sever the connection forged in blood and chaos.

"For you, I will do anything, darling. Including this." He stepped to his Generals, their eyes never leaving mine as the four raised their hands to form a ring. Blood slid down their palms and wrists, dotting the ground. My eyes widened as the blood hit the stone floor, disappearing in a ripple of glowing and sparkling blue....something, transforming into a circle that swirled and lashed air through them. The four spoke, their voices mixing to become one. "We bind, by blood and life." They turned their palms towards them, staring at their own cuts.

“By blood, I bind.” “By blood, I bind.” “By blood, I bind.” The chamber echoed with it, a litany that grew heavier with every voice. Maxim felt their oaths pulling into him, stitching into his chest like burning thread. The Beast stretched, teeth bared in satisfaction, drinking the devotion like wine. Zara’s breath trembled beside him. She whispered low so only he could hear. “You’re tying them to the Beast, Maxim. If it devours you, it devours them.”

“What in the hell is that supposed to mean, exactly?” “And I fed from you, and then you tapped mine for blood in that moment of primal urges,” he continued, his voice plodding along like a lecture for a child to remember complicated rules of Elder law. While Nomo was smug in his condescension, at least it was obvious. But for every thousand times that was infuriating, it was ten thousand that it was more irritating for it to be this way from Phuwin. “This binds us psychically Blooded to one another, a tie.” “The hell it does!” Sofia’s head was spinning. How could he remain so calm about this egregious, fundamental invasion of her autonomy?

Strength is borrowed. Life is sustained. A Sancta woman should not survive birthing a Sanguinari heir. Her body is not built for it. Even when the child lives, the mother does not. That is the rule. The blood is there only to sustain her through the birth. That is why the Covenant exists. But my mother lived. Because my father’s blood did not merely mark her, it anchored her. His vitality reinforced hers. His soul bound itself to her own so completely that her body endured what it should not have. She carried me to term. She healed. Slowly. Imperfectly. But she lived.

“You think I endured being with you all these years because I didn’t want to leave?” She shook her head. “You don’t seem to realize that bond wasn’t just a mating bond.” Her lips curled. “It was sealed with blood.” The room stilled again. “The blood of our parents,” she continued. “As long as they’re both dead…” She tilted her head slightly. “…we are bound for life.” Louise’s face drained of color. “There’s no rejection for us.” Her smile turned cruel. “So good luck trying to get rid of me, you bastard.”

he sighed, a sound of genuine, disappointed resignation. He pressed down. The blade tore into the flesh of my left forearm. A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from my throat, my body violently jerking against the heavy metal chair. The thick leather straps bit mercilessly into my wrists and chest, holding me pinned, offering no escape from the searing heat of the blade. Hot, crimson blood began to well up from the deep, clean line he had drawn, spilling over my skin and dripping slowly, rhythmically, onto the pristine white tile floor. In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black.