Crimson Lions Novels & Stories

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.

It’s just that he didn’t know how. He could not move any more. He tried so hard but he just couldn’t move as if he was a frozen statue. His eyes were completely fixated on him. He gradually saw that in the place where Mark stood, there was now a large black wolf with black fur and crimson eyes, gleaming under the light. Blake stared in wonder at the large wolf who was making continuous efforts to walk forward but tripped on its own paws and fell back on the floor. The wolf fell once again when he was attempting to get up. Blake staggered forward reaching the large wolf and kneeled near its form and put his trembling hand towards the wolf's fur.

“They attended the coronation. Didn’t you see them?” The words slid right past me. “Visited?” I asked. “How is that—” She scoffed. “Figures.” She turned away, already dismissing me. “Get to work.” I stood there for a moment longer, confusion buzzing through my head like angry bees. Crimson Fang. The name meant nothing to me beyond whispers. A neighboring pack. Known for strength. Known for brutality, some said. But packs visited weddings all the time. How could a visit cause this?

“We need reinforcements. Allies. We can’t face the Beast alone.” Alpha Richard nodded grimly. “I’ve already sent messengers to the Luminary and Blackwood Clans. They’ve dealt with the Beast before—they should be able to help.” “That won’t be enough,” Harold said quietly. “If the rumors are true, the Crimson Pack’s territory was untouched. Untouched. We need to ask ourselves why.” Everyone froze. The Crimson Pack. They were powerful, but everyone knew those black wolves. They never helped unless you had something valuable to offer. That was their law.

The grounds were lit by lanterns that floated without visible support, casting everything in soft, shifting light. "Tell me," Kaine said as we walked, "what do you know about Crimson Moon Academy?" "Only what everyone knows. It's a place where humans and werewolves learn together. Where alliances are formed." "Lies," he said simply. "Pretty lies wrapped in prettier propaganda, but lies nonetheless." I said nothing, waiting. "Would you like to know the truth?" "Would you tell me if I said yes?" He laughed—a sound that was surprisingly warm. "Clever. I can see why they're interested in you."

The candles went out. Author’s Note - The Crimson Veil began as a late-night idea about what might happen if logic met temptation in its purest, most dangerous form. Evelyn’s curiosity is my own: the need to understand what we fear, even when it leads us somewhere we can’t easily return from. This story mixes gothic atmosphere, mystery, and forbidden connection—a slow burn between intellect and instinct. Every chapter was written and refined by hand, inspired by old literature and the darker side of human emotion.

Aldric’s hand found hers instinctively, his grip warm and steady. The bond flared with protective intensity. “He won’t get near her,” Aldric said firmly. Marcus studied him carefully. “You’re her mate.” “Yes.” The Alpha of Crimson Hollow nodded once. “That helps.” Regina blinked. “How?” “Blood Moon wolves are strongest when bonded,” Marcus explained. “The connection stabilizes their power.” She looked down at her hand still clasped in Aldric’s. The bond pulsed warmly. “So the mate bond…” “…may have awakened your abilities faster,” Marcus finished.

Blood sprayed in dark arcs that caught the strange, too-bright moonlight and glittered like spilled ink. The Crimson Claw pack was smaller but fiercer, red-brown fur flashing like embers. They fought dirty: going for throats, hamstrings, eyes. One of them, a lean female with white streaks on her flanks, leapt onto the back of a Silverfang warrior and clamped her jaws around his neck. He thrashed, yelped once, went still.

Night roared with laughter. Seemingly oblivious to their laughter, she continued speaking. “Luna Kyson will relocate the Crimson Blood Pact to the forest next to this pack. We will need your help with building the pack, and of course, the Crimson Blood Pack members will help too.” “I hope we can have a great relationship with all the packs in this country, including the rogues,” she finished her speech with those words. “Any of you have any questions?” No one raised their voice to retort to her. They all agreed to her arrangements.

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.