Crimson Stain Book Novels & Stories

Crimson tears bled from her eyes and tracked down her cheeks. “It’s okay, baby, I’ve got you.” But Johnny didn’t. He couldn’t move. His boots sank into the red-stained sludge, as he shouted her name. Blood trickled from her nose, and she cupped her hands to catch the flow. Falling to his knees, he held out a hand. “Come to me, Lizbug. Come to me.” Her hands opened, and blood-coated blossoms fell to the earth. “Lizzy!” he screamed as she fell. Red quicksand slowly pulled her under as he called to her bleached face, cleared of all expression.

“The Crimson wolves have always been in the FireHeart pack, because their flames and uniqueness comes from the same flames that emanate from the crimson throne.” “Can I ask a question, Doctor?” Minister Blackthorn asked suddenly. “You may.” “You spoke about survival of the fittest, how sure are you that the crimson rogue we showed you is not actually a crimson wolf but a generated one?” “The eyes,” Doctor Monroe said, his smile stretching. “The eyes never lie. A crimson wolf is made crimson because of its distinctive red color. This distinctive color is shown both on the fur, the eyes and hair. They have a characteristic pale white skin like snow. That is the characteristic of a crimson. If

I knew he had a special interest in finding out accurate information about the past, but his fascination was slowly turning into obsession and I was getting kind of worried. "So it was your date with these books that made you take your precious time before getting the door ugh," I said, flipping through the pages of one of the books I could get my hand on. "Be careful with that Nic, it's an original!" he groaned. "Be careful with me too Hunter, I'm a vampire," I said. "Yeah, yeah, I'm so scared, someone please save me from this annoying blood sucking vampire," he told me. "My gosh! The audacity! I've been too soft on you Hunter, you no longer fear me," I said, pointing a finger at him.

It rose from the forest floor like a jagged tower of light. Easily twice my height, the crystal pulsed with powerful energy. Unlike the small crystals scattered through the forest, this one blazed with color—deep pink and violet light swirling inside it like liquid fire. The glow illuminated the clearing around us. And the demon lay directly beside it. A jagged burn ran across the creature’s chest, the flesh blackened and cracked where the crystal’s magic had touched it. Corin stepped closer, studying the body carefully. “The crystal killed it,” he said quietly.

Aria’s POV We woke up in the Crimson park that morning, and rain fell, not real blood, of course—but the sky turned a deep red, and the light it cast made everything look stained. It felt like an omen. One of many I’d been ignoring. I was alone in the Moon Library, seated in front of a book I hadn’t dared open until now: The Royal Lineage of the Lunar Thrones. The cover was soft with age. The spine cracked like it hadn’t been touched in generations. A single silver moon was carved into the center.

It spreads slowly, turning the white fabric to a shocking crimson. The Council members are trying not to look at it and failing miserably. Elder Corvin is staring at the stain with morbid fascination. Lyra looks nauseous. Even Vorlag seems unsettled, his eyes darting to my ribs and then back to my face. I take a sip of water. The rim of the crystal glass comes away stamped with a bloody lip print. I set it down on the polished wood. I really must look rather shocking. “Continue, Elder Corvin,” I say. “You were discussing the bridge repairs in the northern quadrant.”

I give him a contrite smile. "Plus these books are nothing like those you can find in the library." I give him a faint smile. I'd like to believe that. I quickly leaf through the forest manuscript, fascinated. "Well... I have some reading to do!" "Know that I'm here if needed be. These books are intense." "I can imagine!" Though groaning, I seize the pile of old books. "Be careful, these are originals!" I throw him one last dirty look, slightly annoyed, before leaving the room.

Did he feel so disgusted, I wanted to believe he didn’t but what I saw in his eyes each time he looked at me filled me with shame. It was a new feeling, the shame. I had never felt ashamed of who I was before. I was Daddy’s little girl, vampire royalty. It seemed like what I had been born to be, who I was. I had sometimes wondered about my relatives from my mother’s side of the family, those feeble humans who were doomed to grow old and die, it didn’t actually occur to me that people might despise us, might consider us so—so disgusting. I remember asking once or twice whose blood it was when Helen and Juliet came back from a hunt, tossing a parcel over to me but they usually looked at me odd