Bound By Vengeance Novels & Stories

The monster who turned me into an orphan and left me to be raised by a ruthless uncle with no kindness in his bones. I had spent years sharpening my claws for this training, bleeding, waiting for the day I could sink my fangs into his throat. How could I stand here, pretending to vow forever, when vengeance burned in my blood? “No.” I tore the veil from my head, my decision hardening like steel. “I won’t belong to anyone. Not until his blood stains my hands.” Veyra paled, panic flashing in her hazel eyes. “Sylvara, the silver-clad enforcers are outside. You can’t just run. Your uncle will kill us both.”

“We’ll make him watch his world collapse piece by piece. I'll finish what I wasn't able to accomplish the first time. I’ll kill her.” Caroline’s lips parted, breath sharp. The words were real now, etched in stone. Kill her. Kill Venus. For a heartbeat, the enormity of it pressed against her chest. Then she exhaled, steady, and let the darkness settle. “Yes,” she whispered, almost reverent. “Let’s make him burn.” Gerald extended his hand. Slowly, Caroline took it, their grip sealing something that could not be undone. A pact written not in ink, but in vengeance.

I could still hear her voice, trembling yet proud, confessing the unthinkable as if it were proof of her devotion. And here she was, acting like a fragile little thing, while her eyes practically screamed that she’d already won. My thoughts turned dark. I looked at Vance and wondered if this was really what he wanted. Did he want a woman who would kill her own blood just to get into his bed? And, if she could kill her own pup, what else would she do? What else would he let her do? The betrayal wasn't just him anymore. It was both of them. Standing there in my own bedroom, I felt a new kind of fire starting to burn in my chest. It wasn't love, and it wasn't pain, it was a promise of vengeance

Bound by Blood Victoria awoke to darkness. The sort that closed around her from all sides, heavy and smothering, the sort that wound around her arms and legs like shackles, heavy and unyielding. Her head pounded, a steady, wrenching beat at the back of her skull, and for an instant, she couldn’t recall what had happened, where she was, why her body felt so much like it had been ripped apart and reassembled badly. Then it hit her.

He turned to face his foe and stared at her with a look of raw, unadulterated rage: She was causing hundreds upon thousands of restless souls to fight a losing war, all because of her petty vengeance. "La Bruja! Mi Amor! Your time has come! Lady Muerte herself has sealed your fate, and all you're doing by raising this army is making my job easier!" He said before charging the oncoming hoard, Alexis hot on his tail, and his forces even closer behind. An entire platoon's worth surrounded him, all for naught, as he slashed in an open arc and shot a bullet from his gun, infusing it with his wrath, piercing through hundreds of soldiers. Alex at his side slashed at everything in sight, clawing thr

The words settled over them like a death knell, heavy, undeniable, inescapable. Lucien’s jaw flexed, golden eyes blazing with promise. Around him, the pack growled as one, a thunderous chorus of rage. Oaths were sworn in guttural tones, claws raking across palms and blood smeared on the marble in ancient ritual. Vengeance was no longer just a vow—it was law, etched in the blood that stained their floors and their hearts. Zaria’s arms tightened around the trembling child. She pressed her lips to the girl’s hair, whispering words only the child could hear. “He will never touch you again. Not while I breathe.”

I could feel it searing into me but I didn’t stop. “All Father, I bind this contract with Vár willingly. I sacrifice my blood for this oath. Give me the strength of Magni to sate my taste for Váli's revenge. Grant me Hiln's protection. Give me Forseti's justice in the form of her death. I beg of Freya to let me see the way.” I made a cut on the palm of my hand and then I bound the wound with the scarf. If I saw her, the gods had granted me the vengeance I wanted. If they guided me to her, I had their permission to kill her without any repercussions.

If he’d lost her. The red haze covered his vision again as he looked at the people behind her. He’d ordered them to stay, and they’d fallen to their knees. They shook visibly, their eyes glued to their fallen comrades. Gina was among them. The woman was still grieving her parents but should not have gotten involved with Zach. The consequences were on her. He would defend what was his until the day he died. A growl came from deep within him, from the place his vengeance lay, and made the traitors whimper and lower their gazes.

The man who had also lost a woman he loved, a woman who had died for a cause she believed in. She stumbled towards him, her body shaking, and collapsed into his arms. Dante, his rage momentarily forgotten, simply held her. He felt her frail, trembling body, the raw fear and pain emanating from her, and his grip tightened, a silent promise of vengeance. Her escape was a brutal, scarring journey. She was alive, but barely. She had lost her innocence, her naiveté, and now, Bianca, the only true ally she had ever known in this dangerous world. But in Bianca’s sacrifice, Amara had found something she had been desperately searching for all along: a purpose. A purpose fueled by grief, guilt, and a