Novel & Cerita Crimson Blade

I left some of the wounds bandaged as I also treated the bruises on my face. I inhaled deeply, hoping it would help ease the pain for just a few minutes. My body remained stationary in the same position for a while before the pain subsided, and I was able to stand up, returning the first aid kit. Opening the second cupboard revealed an impressive collection: emerald green, black, champagne, ruby red, and pale blue dresses, each uniquely crafted with luxurious fabrics, intricate details, and dazzling embellishments.

Still, it was enough to show other creatures that we werewolves weren't someone to be messed with. We also invited the Bloody Fangs. The Bloody Fangs was a group of strongest warriors without any ties to the 3 packs. Their most well-known warrior was their leader, The Crimson Warrior, who was also the most blood-lust warrior in the whole Lupo continent. His nickname came from the crimson helmet he kept wearing as he fought. I had heard that the Crimson Warrior himself would attend my ceremony. That made me wonder if he would wear his helmet or not. After all, no one had ever seen his face.

Alpha Jermain’s face tightened as he finally began his dark rituals. He positioned a small table, already laden with all the necessary items, directly before Lilias. Swiftly, he took a ceremonial blade and made a precise cut across the palm of Lilias’s hand. A gasp escaped the woman, more from shock than pain, as bright red blood welled up and slowly began to drip into an ancient goblet he held beneath. The Alpha watched intently as the crimson droplets fell, his eyes bulging triumphantly.

This is another name for the human half of the Founding Ten. The Binding: A rare and ancient magic effect triggered by the ceremonial blood toast during an Accord marriage. It increases attraction and lowers emotional boundaries between the couple. It was created to increase the likelihood of a Crimsonborn being produced. The Crimsonborn: A child born from a sanctioned Accord marriage. Half human, half vampire. Children outside of Accord marriages are impossible. Without these children, the Accord will collapse. They age slowly and have the option to turn after the age of 18. The Crimson Registry: A registry of donors consisting of elite humans who offer their blood for favors of the Eternal

The silver hair bloomed under the faint moonlight peeping through the leaves, reflecting pale light like threads of metal. I could not see his face clearly, but the sight of his broad back alone made my breathing hitch slightly. My heart started hammering inside my chest. "Don't fall in love," Moon warned. "I am not," I whispered quickly, though my pulse refused to calm down. My attention immediately shifted to his wound. A dagger had been driven deep into his back shoulder. The blade glinted faintly beneath the moonlight. Even from this distance, I could recognize the dull gray coating along the metal.

To Pride. First Blood. Another one. Creek’s smile dies. “Four?” He looks at me. At Cove. At Ash. At Pride. “Mother’s greedy.” “Mother’s done,” I say. I pull the bone knife. No more talking. I throw it. Not at Creek. At the ground between us. It hits. Sticks. And the gold vines change. They go from the knife. Out. Like a web. They touch every Blackmire wolf. Every Redfang. Every Duskbane.

"Why? What do I have done? Tell me in detail, Blade." Blade struck the table in exasperation with her clench fist. "Don't act innocent, you pervert!" "Pervet? No. Didn't you want it? But your meat juices for me." "Shut up!" Blade threw him the table knife, which made a cut in Lorcan's face. Hearing him talk about it pissed her off. Although she really despises it, she could not deny that her wolf willingly accepted him. It makes her crazy as hell.

The midnight skyline of Port Apex was obscured by a thick fog, turning the massive steel cranes into looming phantoms over the black water. Inside the glass-walled command center of Vance Enterprise, the air was sharp with cold air conditioning. Massive wall monitors glowed with real-time global trade routes, but three major digital corridors stretching from Singapore to Rotterdam had suddenly flashed from deep blue to a stark, ominous crimson. Victoria stood before the central map, a glass of untouched scotch resting in her palm. The amber liquid caught the harsh red glare of the screens. She had discarded her blazer, wearing a sleeveless midnight-black tailored vest over her crisp blouse.

•HIS REAL NEW LIFE• A man is silently walking around a house like some kind of a ghost, he's clad in a black cloak with a hood over his head and a sharp steel knife in his hand, portraying the figure of a creature that takes life from a living. A woman is silently staring at him, clad in a blood stained white dress, her hair covers her whole face. She's unmoving and not even breathing but her eyes are on him, waiting for him to come closer.

The brand glows red in the fire, waiting. Tears already burning my eyes. He walks around the bed slow. His eyes never leave me. “Tonight you stop being Volkov,” he says. His voice is calm and cruel. “Tonight you wear my name on your skin forever. Inside your thigh. Where only I will see. Where only I will touch.” I shake my head hard. “No. Please. No.” My voice cracks. As my tears fall hot. He pulls the iron from the fire. The wolf crest glows bright red. He kneels between my open legs. The heat reaches my skin before the metal does. He brings it close, I smell hot iron so I scream before it touches.