Crimson Empire Novels & Stories

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.

I knew now Amelia had to be telling the truth, there was some obvious power tousle going on in vampire realm between the cultured vampire royalty and these vampires. There was something about the Vampires that had me in their car, that was so uncultured. Their every move spelled rebellion. LA was a shitty place to be when Christopher Rhinehart rulled, I wondered how it would be with this vampires that didn’t even care the least about discretion and what had the one with a gun said? They were soon going to be all over the country.

It was like a faint whisper that sailed on the air. Unlike humans vampires rarely fell in love, but when they did the vampire they fell in love with is their alpha mate for life. Although some other vampires that easily showed emotions were dubbed abnormals. I was only allowed to walk around the block. The quiet empty block. Jhan had warned me not to go any further so I don't cause a clan war. Our neighbour clan was a clan of all males, Jereum hated them more than he hated me. The boy had a resentment against me I could not understand.

It was angry, alive, burning. The silence shattered with a guttural roar — deep, rough, a bellow that carried focused intent. This wasn't some aimless roamer drifting through the wastes. This thing had power. Elemental power. From the shadows, it stepped out. Bigger than any roamer they'd fought. Broad - shouldered, muscles twitching under charred, cracked skin. Veins like molten rivers pulsed beneath the surface, glowing crimson with a heat that warped the air. Flames licked along its arms, alive and hungry.

BOOK SIX: THE IRON CROWN (Jace’s Perspective) An empire doesn't die when its king is killed. It dies when its supply lines run dry. You cannot build a fifty-foot gravity cannon out of thin air and fanaticism; you need logistics. I stood at the edge of the perfectly smooth, smoking crater where the Crimson Engine used to be. The ash was still settling. The surviving Imperial soldiers were kneeling in the dirt, disarmed and surrounded by the towering, white-glowing forms of the Lunar Vanguard.

The perception of how demonic he must be at that time made me tremble. Please, why must my path cross with criminals? Why am I bound to these murderers? Discarding the dread rushing in my vein. He closed our distances. His hands casually resting his pockets as he continued explaining. “It turned out Emeric ‘wanted’ those bases gone and used my rage as a pawn. It was a plan. But damage was damage and they attacked us too.” I gulped, “And now there is a war between Crimson Nest and Vipers?” “...Yes.” I was hyperventilating, my hands shaking so violently I had to grip the back of a chair to stay upright. My eyes widened. I didn’t know at which information I should react first.

I answered unwaveringly. "Okay" Crimson walked towards Tryamon, she stretched out her hands for a handshake "my name is Crimson, Aethelfrith's betrothed" Tyramon's phone fell from her hands, her eyes widened but she managed to compose herself quickly. "Aethelfrith betrothed?" Tyramon asked, looking unsure of what she heard. "Yes, you heard right" Crimson smiled, "my hands are still on the air" "Oh my, forgive my bad manners" Tyramon forced a smile, reaching out to shake Crimson's hand.

Hello, my beautiful readers! Wow. Just… wow. When I started writing His Sinful Empire, I had a vision for Nina and Enzo’s story, something dark, passionate, complicated, and utterly consuming. But I had no idea how deeply you all would connect with these characters, how invested you’d become in their journey, or how much your feedback and enthusiasm would fuel my creativity. First, let me say THANK YOU.

he said. I found little rumors in his words, but what was I expecting? They were all monsters. They had no emotions, not a single one of them in their bloodstained family. They killed like it was an everyday duty. Relationships and blood ties meant nothing to them, killing family members like insects. And yet, here I was, finding myself as the daughter-in-law of such a family. Was signing the contract really the only way out? "Dominic has proven hopeful over the while, but yet Adrian..." I watched his voice trail off at the mere mention of Adrian's name, as a slight side of disappointment crossed his face.

"'If anything happens to me, don't trust the Board.'" Seraphina frowned. "The board?" "The Board of Directors." A chill crawled through her. Blackwood Holdings. The company. The empire. The realization struck both of them simultaneously. This wasn't about one corrupt executive. Or one missing person. Or even Victor Ashford. The conspiracy had infiltrated the highest levels of Blackwood Holdings itself. Maybe for years. Maybe decades. Then another page slipped from the journal. Folded. Hidden. Waiting. Damian unfolded it carefully. A map.