Crimson Cross Novels & Stories

And now, here I was, walking down an aisle lined with chrome and roses, heading straight into the lion’s den with a knife strapped to my thigh and revenge curled tightly inside my gut like a fist. The rev of bikes outside rumbled like a heartbeat. The compound stank of oil, leather, cigar smoke, and secrets. Tulle and flowers drooped over Harley frames like some sick joke. The scent of gasoline clung to everything. I couldn’t breathe without tasting rage. “Remember what they did to her,” my father, Vincent “Venom” Kane, president of the Crimson Fangs, growled beside me. His grip on my arm was tight, grounding. “Remember why you are here.”

She quickly fixed herself, and then they got out of the car together. A dozen armed men and women appeared before them. Each had the Crimson Clan symbol branded on the part of their clothing or tattooed on their body. It was two letter C's surrounded by a thorny and bleeding rose. Even though the guns were not pointed at them, she did not lower her defense. Her eyes were alert, warily scanning the surroundings. They looked like they were in a huge, spacious underground tunnel. There wasn't enough light to see the corners, but she could tell the thick walls were concrete and fortified.

Phoebe I had never set foot in Dark Crimson before, and the moment our car passed through its front gates, my whole body tensed. The pack house rose like a dark fortress—nothing like the elegant Silver Claw manor or the clean-lined designs of Thunder Bite. This place felt ancient, heavy… dominant. The building looked as if it had been carved from one giant block of obsidian, with deep red accents running along each pillar like dried blood. The Dark Crimson banner fluttered against the gray sky—black and red, marked by a crowned Lycan sigil.

He had known all along that their family was tied to something supernatural, something dangerous. The journal revealed the existence of a hidden society.—The Crimson Circle—a secretive group that operated in the shadows, monitoring supernatural activity and protecting the balance between realms. Her parents had been members, tasked with guarding a powerful artifact that kept the veil intact. But there was more. Lysandra flipped to a page where her father had drawn a detailed family tree. Her name was connected by a red line that spanned centuries. At the bottom of the page, her father had written: You are the last of the line, Lysandra. The prophecy is tied to you. When the time comes, you m

Joshua thinks that he wouldn't be that surprised if he starts to form wrinkles on his forehead and be deaf from listening to Leo's endless bleating like a goat. "I'm sorry, I don't follow. Who is Crystal Mayhem?" Joshua Brenner is quite a liar. He knows who is Crystal Mayhem, and it was only a coincidence that she happen to rent a room in his building for a week because of her work. And as Joshua Brenner see it as an opportunity for his "annoying" friend, he sent him to do the room service and this happened, just another normal day of being a good listener to his "worker's" fuss.

I now turned to Critsy knowing it had to be said. “Gorm does not lie. Everyone listens, these are good people a good pack that is far stronger than we could ever be because they allow everyone to be who they should be, mate whoever they want to mate.” I watched as his eyes met Claire’s and she quickly put her head down. “There is hope here and love here. We can be happy without ever having to run away again and all we have to do is follow our true alpha, the last true descendant of the red wolves, the Crimson Priestess.” Hushed voices and intense shock swept through almost every single wolf.

He asked with a smile. "Y-yeah!" Harri said, snapping out of his thoughts as he took a step over to me and held out the velvet pillow with the two rings on it. I took one, while Max took the other. “Then with the blessings of all the Gods within Annwn, I pronounce you husband and husband,” the holy man said while offering us both a small piece of myrtle. There was some reason behind this particular herb with the mortal rulers, but I wasn’t quite clear about its use. It seemed fitting to use it, though.

⸻ The image darkened. The Crimson One stepped away from his brothers. ⸻ Toward a glowing object hidden beneath the earth. ⸻ A crystal. ⸻ Dark red. ⸻ Beautiful. ⸻ Wrong. ⸻ The moment he touched it— Everything changed. ⸻ The vision exploded. ⸻ Darkness spread across the world. ⸻ Cities burned. ⸻ Wars erupted. ⸻ Entire kingdoms fell. ⸻ The Crimson One watched it all with fascination.

A recognition that lived below thought. The woman's eyes opened fully. Crimson. Not human. Deep glowing red lit from somewhere inside, burning steady and old and alive. Tyra stepped back. "Who are you." "You already know," the woman said. Her voice was warm and cracked at the edges like something that had been through fire and come out the other side. She moved forward, each step soundless on the black soil. Her crimson eyes moved over Tyra's face with a desperation that was almost physical. Like someone who had been kept from something for so long that seeing it again hurt. "You have always known."

“Croissants. From the place that pretends they’re from Paris.” “Bless you,” I muttered, taking one. Lila perched on the arm of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “So… I woke up to your face all over my feed again. It’s giving ‘star-crossed scandal sequel.’” I groaned. “Please don’t start.” She grinned. “Relax. I’m not judging. I’m just saying — the man looked like a walking heartbreak out there. You could feel the tension through the photos.”