Craven From Blood And Ash Novels & Stories

POV: Ash Ryder "Get out of my way, you mindless filth, or I’ll paint this ice with whatever rot you have for blood!" Ash’s voice was no longer the steady, commanding baritone of the Silverfang Alpha. It was a jagged, raw snarl that vibrated with a terrifying lack of restraint. He lunged forward, his silver dagger flashing in a lethal arc as it sank into the neck of a Shadow-beast. The creature, a twisted mass of smoke and elongated bone, didn't even have time to hiss before Ash ripped the blade sideways, decapitating it with a spray of violet ichor that sizzled against the frozen ground.

It was chained to the altar, but the chains rattled as it strained against its bonds, growling low in its throat. Asha felt a flash of disgust, but her focus remained sharp. This wasn’t just any creature. This was the result of the Blood Pact—a creature forged from the blood of her people, the Frostkin, and the royal family’s twisted experiments. “That’s not just a beast,” Asha said, her voice cold. “That’s a weapon. And it’s not the only one.” Darian’s jaw tightened. “We need to get to the records. There has to be something here that explains everything.”

But the way he looked at me felt like he was peeling away my skin to see what I was hiding. I looked away too quickly. That was when another voice spoke up. “Well, well, well. Who’s the new pup?” Ash Kieran. I did not need an introduction to know who he was. If Cruz was a blade in the dark, Ash was fire and smoke. Blond hair, a reckless smile, and eyes full of trouble. His pack, Bloodveil, had been enemies of Shadowspike, Cruz’s pack, for longer than anyone could remember. And now both of them were watching me.

The honest-looking man is now wearing a twisted expression full of frustration and grief. After knowing that their lady Asha pushed him down the tunnel without a word, Soran did not stop to think of the reason as he tried to go back out to forcefully carry Asha to escape, but he could not even move from his current position as if his entire body is glued to the ground. Asha Blood as the hailed next priestess of the Blood Wolves clan is also a special existence in her own right even without the golden drop of blood from the Moon goddess. The land of the Wolves is a wondrous land that is full of mystery. And the development of the werewolves since the first creations is full of change and evol

I had no answer. She let me go. Her gaze shifted to the urn in my arms. "You won't take this when it's offered? Then I am taking it from you. "You will not see your father's ashes again." She reached. The blood in my arms went cold. The control I had been holding cracked. "Please… please don't. It wasn't me. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just don't." I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours.

Kyra is his obsession, his punishment, and his prey. Steven Blackwood doesn’t love he dominates, he torments, he claims. Resistance brings pain; surrender brings chaos. Trapped in his mansion, surrounded by fear, jealousy, and the shadowed eyes of those who serve him, she must navigate a world where innocence is weakness and temptation is unavoidable. Every moment in his grasp threatens to break her, and survival is not escape, it is submission to a man who bends desire and fear into a power only he understands. In the hands of a devil who refuses to be denied, she may lose everything…even herself.

“Don’t lump me in with those bottom-feeding creeps.” I winced. “Devil?” Ash took a long breath, clearly trying not to set me on fire. “Yes, I’m not the kind that just whispers sins into people’s ears. I’m a devil.” He leaned back against the bed frame, raised one hand, and twirled his long fingers in the air like he was drawing something invisible. A faint red light sparked at his fingertip before fading. “Name’s Ash Ravencroft. I make deals with humans. You have something I want. I can give you something you want.”

Pack’s pack, Tess—strike, guard! The hum of magic intensified, the violet runes flaring, the ground within the ravine trembling, Veilborn wraiths rising from the ash and bone shards, their forms coalescing into shadowy, clawed figures, their eyes glowing violet, their snarls a guttural echo, the air crackling with dark magic, the Veil’s wind howling louder, the bone shards glowing brighter, the ravine’s walls pulsing faster, the Veilborn’s whispers a deafening roar, the ancient power stirring, the Ashen Veil a crucible for the pack’s fire, the battle for their legacy reaching a new chapter, the muted light dimming, the ash thickening, the scent of decay a chilling promise, the pack’s fire a

That was someone crushed under the weight of Antonio Reyes. And I hated it. Avery leaned closer, smirking. “You’re brooding.” I shot him a glare. “No, I’m not.” “Yes, you are. Your face is doing that thing. The tragic-hero thing.” Malik laughed. “Mason Grant, the tragic hero? I like it.” “Shut up,” I muttered, raking a hand through my hair. Damien snorted. “You’re really whipped, huh?” I sat up. “I’m not—”

Sure, she wasn't a kick-ass supernatural hunter like her brothers, but she wasn't totally helpless. His lips curved into a grin that made a storm of butterflies come to life in her stomach. "It is true. Some flowers have thorns, and you certainly showed yours." The dim lights and the way he stood half in shadow exposed a thin scar that swept down his face across his cheek. It had a distinctive shape to it, as if he'd been slashed by something. Was it from another dragon's claw? She had to admit she was fascinated. The Brotherhood files on the Barinov dragons were slim. She wished she knew more about him, and she had a feeling she was about to.