Captain Blood Novel Novels & Stories

I screamed, feeling on the verge of losing my mind. Blood was dripping from my fingers, but I didn't even feel the pain as I gripped the blade. Mom didn't even glance at my injury. She nodded firmly. "Yes!"

she gasped, eyes popping out with a twinkle of relief "You found me.That was quick." Hie guys kindly check out my other book here on goodnovel titled A BLOODSTAINED I DO. The book is a romantic suspence thriller i hope that makes sense haha. It speaks of two friends who fooled an 'innocent' blind girl into marrying an assassin but it seems she just might just be the the one fooling all of them. A tale of massive twists and turns and its COMPLETE. Do check it out you wont regret! Leave a review too! Much love

“…You didn’t say he had that.” Johanis didn’t respond. Didn’t even bother to look at him. He just kept moving. Fighting. Breaking. The captain’s expression shifted slightly. Not fear. But something close. Recognition. “…W-witch blood.. B-but how??” he said quietly. The words landed heavy in the air. Everything stilled for half a second. Even the forest seemed to hesitate. “In a man..” he added, almost to himself. My breath caught. Lily stiffened beside me as a big secret was exposed.

The battlefield was painted in blood and shadow. The air tasted of iron and despair, thick with the smoke of burning timber and the acrid stench of supernatural flame. Rain had begun to fall not the gentle rain of mourning, but a harsh deluge that turned dust to mud and made the stones slick with a mixture of water and blood that pooled in every crack and crevice.

Cassian’s illusion flared again. This time, smoke poured from the road behind the captain. He turned his head. Only slightly. Enough. I threw my knife. For the second time that night, the world slowed around the blade. It crossed the square in silence. Not toward his eye this time. Toward his hand. The blade buried itself through the captain’s wrist. He screamed. The knife fell from his fingers. The girl dropped and rolled away just as Ben burst from behind the well and slammed into the captain’s knees.

Hello everyone! I am Selist Emerald Valley, author of the novel Pure Blood. - Thank you readers for loving and reading Pure Blood to the end! This is the end of Pure Blood! I hope you like Pure Blood and the characters in it! - Without the support of my close friends, of course, Pure Blood would never exist! Thanks to HAKUJI and Affifah, you guys are the best!!! - It's a pleasure to publish Pure Blood on Goodnovel, besides being able to reach more readers, Pure Blood can also be accessed easily.

To the absolute, paralyzing horror of the mercenary captain, the bright orange fire on the roof didn't spread—it turned a deep, ghostly silver, the heat violently dying out as the flames were literally frozen into solid, crystalline shards of glowing ice. The captain stared at his torch, the flame snuffing out into a trail of white smoke before it could even touch the oil barrel. "What... what are you?" he whimpered, dropping the useless iron shaft as his knees buckled from the sheer weight of her divine pressure. Before he could even hit the wooden floorboards, a massive, ink-black shadow descended upon the porch like a meteor.

The metal was hot, the glass shattered, the smell of fuel thick in the air. He pulled at the door. It didn't move. He pulled again, felt it give, felt the metal scream. Vincenzo was beside him, his shoulder against the door, pushing. The door opened, the hinges grinding, the metal folding. Alex reached inside, felt for the Captain's arm, found it. The Captain was alive. His face was bloody, his eyes open, his mouth moving. Alex pulled him from the wreckage, dragged him across the concrete, felt the heat of the burning fuel on his back.

The red glare of the flare hung in the salt-heavy air like a bleeding star, casting a jagged, rhythmic light over the deck of the mangled gunboat as it pitched violently in the black harbor swells, Verina felt the world tilt, not from the waves, but from the impossible sight of the man standing over a pinned and gasping Miller. Silas’s father, Elias Vane, the original "Executioner" who had supposedly been buried in a watery grave ten years ago, looked like a specter forged from obsidian and sea-spray, his face was a map of deep, jagged scars and a decade of cold, subterranean exile, but his eyes were the same dark, predatory wells as his son’s. The heavy breathing of the two Vane men filled

"Look at how horribly Rachel’s family died! Their new house is still under renovation—they were about to move in. My nephew was just a month old!" His voice rose. "If it weren't for you, Rachel’s family would've been so happy!" A tide of relatives broke into sobs. "I'll give you the money back. We don't need you to pay for the funeral. You know why I didn't call the police?" He stepped toward me, advancing like a hunter. "Because I want you dead." He swung a knife toward my head. I grabbed Freddie's arm and begged, "It really wasn't me. If you've got the wrong person, then you'll get your hands dirty for nothing!"