Crimson Reaper Novels & Stories

ILANA. The Blood Moon Festival came five days too early. On the third evening, the moon bathed its eerie, crimson glow over the Nightshade Pack. This was an event rarely experienced and considered by the pack to be a sign from the Moon Goddess, hastening the fate of two destined mates. The pack was in an uproar of joyful frenzy. The whole of the pack square hummed with excitement, as though even the air vibrated in anticipation. I faltered at the door to Rana's small cabin and brushed off invisible lint from the pale blue dress that Rana had lent me for tonight. "Rana, are you sure about this?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves from edging my voice.

A goon lunged, his blade flashing, but I caught his wrist, snapping it, his scream cut short as I drove my knife into his gut, twisting until he stilled. “Burn it,” I growled, my voice low, my men torching crates of cocaine, flames licking the walls. One of Salazar’s lieutenants, a wiry bastard named Rico, begged on his knees, his hands raised. “Please, Reaper, I didn’t—” I shot him between the eyes, blood pooling, my boots stepping over his corpse. My men flinched, their glances uneasy, but I didn’t care. This was me now—cold, merciless, the devil they’d forgotten.

Peter dropped his hands. “You found out more quickly than I expected. That my dear is smart.” Avery looked at him from head to toe, she put her hands on the trigger. “I don't mind blowing off your head. Who are you?” She asked him, her head spinning from what's going on. He only smiled and moved. “I promise you, I will shoot you if you don't stand still and start talking” she said to him already pulling the trigger. “My Name is Arthur Crimson. The leader of the Crimson Red. Nice to meet you.” He said stretching his hands out for a handshake.

They turned. Rhea stood there, her head lowered. Her hair hung wild over her face, hands trembling. Slowly, she lifted her head. Her eyes glowed crimson. Not violet. Not purple. Pure, consuming red. Alder’s voice broke in a whisper. “Oh gods… he’s inside her.” Rhea—no, Khaenat—smiled. The Crimson Vessel had awakened. ---

I grip her hips hard, my fingers will leave bruises for sure. I line myself up. She is still virgin, so tight. Wet from fear and shame. I push in. One brutal thrust. She screams so high and broken. “No! It hurts! Please!” “Please what? Fuck you?” Blood runs warm down her thighs, red mixing with water. Her virginity is mine now. I finally claimed my prize. I pull back and slam in again, deeper. She cries loud, her sobs shake her body. Tears stream down her face with the water.

Aldric frowned slightly, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension creeping along his spine. You’re imagining things. He’d felt restless all morning — a strange anticipation humming beneath his skin ever since they crossed into Crimson Hollow territory. He’d chalked it up to being back near the place where everything had changed six years ago. Where Regina had been taken. Where Rebecca had been lost. His chest tightened at the memory, a familiar ache settling beneath his ribs. Rebecca had been found months later — alive but forever changed — and though time had softened the sharpest edges of that nightmare, the scars remained for all of them.

I sprinted for the Interceptor, vaulting onto the pillion seat behind him. "Jax! Sienna! Reaper!" Dax barked into the comms. "I need its arms busy! Break its kneecaps, blind it, I don't care! Just give me a clear run at that ramp!" "You got it, Prez!" Reaper yelled from the second story. Reaper didn't aim for the armor. He aimed for the crimson visor. He fired three rapid shots, shattering the optical sensors on the left side of the Avatar's face.

“Agreed.” The rest of the day passed in a controlled frenzy. I chose a blood-red gown for the summit — elegant, powerful, with a high collar and long sleeves to hide the bruises and scars. Damien wore a tailored black suit that made him look every inch the Reaper, even with the slight limp. We stood together in front of the mirror, a matching pair of dark royalty. “You look like sin,” he murmured, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist. “My favorite kind.”

Nakangiting pagpapaunlak ko at inalalayan si Crimson papasok sa entrance ng venue. ⚘ little ⊹ lies ··································································································································