Conquest: First Blood Novels & Stories

Rivera's behavior is grating on my last nerve, and this disrespect is pushing the boundaries of what I can endure. Isabella chuckles softly, her eyes sparkling with admiration. "Aren't you the formidable Nadia Volkova, the Iron Orchid?" My grip tighten against my core as frustration fills my voice. " Of course I am. It's just almost impossible to believe that the Japanese would threaten me with those lives."

"I'll think I let Jacob carry him." We all walked over the rug and sat on it just as Fiona came back with matchy-matchy cute pillows and papers? Yeah, she was holding papers. Jacob just gave us a permanent scowl. I know he was just playing and carried Conan out of the bedroom. "I already have a game to play for today," Fiona said, sitting on the floor. "We are going to play--" She spoke like she is going to tell us a secret. She suddenly raised the papers. "Fast talk game." She said in a low pitched voice. "Take note, everyone. It's fast talk. You need to be fast answering the questions."

Her throat tightened. The original Blood Pact. Her mother had told her legends about it: that the first Varela queen wrote her vows in ash and sealed them with her own bone. A promise to protect the bloodline, no matter what it cost. Now the parchment trembled in Amara’s hands. She unrolled it slowly. The ink had bled to rust, but the words were still legible: “When fire claims the crown and ashes claim the name, the heir shall rise alone. Her bones shall bear the weight of ruin, and her soul shall command the dead.”

Their swords clashed with a sound that shook the foundations of the fortress, sending cracks racing through ancient stone that had withstood millennia of weather and war. "You don't understand what you're fighting for," the figure hissed, pressing against Marcus's blade with supernatural strength. "The First Blood is not a gift. It is a curse. A chain that binds you to an endless cycle of sacrifice and loss. Every Marsh who has ever borne the title has died in agony, has watched everyone they loved wither and fade, has stood alone at the end of all things with nothing but power and emptiness. Is that what you want? Is that what you would condemn her to?"

A deep one, right under my back. I felt it. Heard it. The midwives gasped. One crossed herself against the old stories, the ones we are not supposed to say out loud anymore. She whispered a name. Luna could just make out the faded word, almost scratched out: First. She looked up. “First?” she asked. Kerran’s mouth was a thin line. “First Alpha,” he said. “First Blood. The old line that we pretend is legend so we do not have to explain why we broke from it.”

My blood ran cold. “That daughter you just gave birth to will be our first servant; we’ll need many, of course, and with the muddied blood of her father, she won’t make a good warrior. But you and I will have more. And they will become warriors. Together, we will rebuild my empire, one that will be even more powerful than the last. We will conquer every pack, every territory, every kingdom. And you will be by my side the entire time. My Queen.” “I will never willingly give you another child. Never.”

"Indeed, milady. It's always about the land. They fought for the stupid land. The south of the pack wants to seize the entire werewolf community, including the south; however, they fought and ended a war with a treaty." "I see, things never change." "Well, twenty years ago, we fought the first werewolf war between the North and the South because of border disputes and the ambitious expansionism of both antagonistic parties. The war ended with the signing of the Treaty of the Blood. During the war, the north struggled to keep their land and was in need of help, and so we, the healers or human warriors, offered our help. Me and my other two sisters." Eve sighed as a sudden mist covered her eye

The remaining Eastern soldiers in the courtyard took one look at her glowing, unblemished skin and the ancient authority radiating from her aura, and their coordination completely fractured. "The Matriarch," an older Eastern warrior whispered, dropping his curved falchion onto the flagstones as his inner wolf took control of his muscles, forcing his knees to buckle. "The prophecy... the First Blood has crossed the sea." "Pick up your steel, coward!" a high lord shouted from the palace terrace above, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and raw panic.