Crimson Thorns Novels & Stories

Chapter 14 :The Crimson Threshold The Crimson Threshold was a narrow, jagged canyon that carved a path directly through the northern mountain peaks. Its stone walls were composed of red-veined granite that, under the pale light of the fading moon, looked as if the earth itself were bleeding. For centuries, it had served as the gateway to the Citadel, a natural choke point where a handful of defenders could hold off an empire. Tonight, the canyon was swallowed by a sea of thick, rolling fog.

But the crown-whispers hinted personal seduction, allies converging with fever-bright eyes that set my flames on alert. Thorne stormed in first, feral energy crackling like a border gale, his betas gore-streaked from overnight abyss-scouts, amber gaze manic-hot and fixed on us with predatory hunger. “That delve shattered those guardians like brittle bone—howls feasted deep on their chitin rot! But my scrys sniff out the final crown now; its essence calls like fresh rut-scent on the wind, promising amplification unbound for packs and diads alike. What's the rut-plan, storm-flame duo? We amplify glory together—strike the abyss-veins swift, claim that crown for the forge before it tempts weaker

“I am the gravity that holds your light in place. Without me, Winnie, you are just a flare in the void, burning out until there is nothing left but ash.” ​I felt a sharp, cold sting in my chest. I looked down and saw thin violet threads weaving through the golden patterns on my forearms. They weren’t attacking; they were integrating. My skin felt like it was being stitched together by ice. ​“Winnie, don’t let her in!” Thorne’s voice reached me from the perimeter of the room. I could see him through the haze, a silhouette of desperation. He was hacking at the rising obsidian thorns that were encasing the central pedestal, his vibro-blade throwing blue sparks against the impenetrable black gla

“Not anymore. They kneel. By dawn, the Crimson Alphas arrived—three of them. Cato. Dorian. Thorn. They looked nothing alike, yet something about them felt the same—dangerous, powerful, and broken in their own ways. Cato was tall and silver-eyed, every move sharp like a blade. Dorian was built like a storm cloud, quiet and dark with eyes that had seen too much. Thorn… Thorn looked like a man who once ruled the world and walked away from it. All pride and shadow.

Pack’s pack, Tess—strike, guard! The shard’s hum intensified, the amber runes flaring, the ground within the ring trembling, Crimsonborn wraiths rising from the frosted clay, their forms coalescing into shadowy, blood-frosted figures, their eyes glowing amber, their snarls a guttural echo, the air crackling with dark magic, the hollow’s wind howling louder, the pool’s ice cracking, the obsidian stones’ runes pulsing faster, the Crimsonborn’s whispers a deafening roar, the ancient power stirring, the Crimson Hollow a crucible for the pack’s fire, the battle for their legacy reaching a new chapter, the pale light dimming, the frost thickening, the scent of blood a chilling promise, the pack’s

Only the touch of his hot body against the cool tiles is soothing his pain, lessening his burn a little. After what has seemed like hours, the bathroom returns to its previous calmness. Mark weakly rises from the floor, places himself in front of the sink and immediately vomits the last of his blood from his mouth. He quickly opens the water faucet as if trying to hide all the remaining traces of blood from here. He stares as his own blood swirls down the drain along with water, and then bit by bit disappearing without a trace. After witnessing that none is left, he raises his head and stares at himself in the mirror. He opens his mouth wide and looks at his new canines that have replaced th

But what did come was something worse. Cursed ones. Lots of them. They appeared out of the thin and surrounded the whole area, over thirty of them, screening off all escape, and putting us in the middle. “You bastards!” I screamed, my two swords appearing in my hands as I pulled off the bangle from my wrist. I felt no fear as I turned around studying their glowing red eyes and faces filled with bloodlust, I only felt anger.

Yseah spoke with firm but a hollow meaning behind it. Greetings! This is my first ever werewolf story. I really was looking forward writing this. And if there are wrong typos and grammars, that I deeply apologize. I am sorry in advance. By the way, if you're enjoying the story, please vote gems for Mated to the Thorns. Thank you!! -Note: From Author, MysticGrace

“Why can't we go now? This would be the best time to burst in.” “If we burst in now? We will only make matters worse because we won't get all of them, their leader will not be around, and we need to catch all of them. but we will go in to night; tonight is their initiation night; they will all be present; they will be welcoming new members to the club tonight; it involves insertions on their backs and making them sniff cocaine.” “That is really terrible, officer. How come you know so much about them when you have never caught any of them?” Andy asked.

I looked like a dwarf beside him although I am taller than other girls, as I am five feet seven inches. “I am asking what your name is…” he said in his cold tone and I felt stupid in front of him. I thought he was staring at me but he was just waiting for my answer about my name. I breathed out heavily. My rating for delivery will go down from one to zero because he doesn't seem happy with my delivery service. Oh, shit*! “My name is… my name is... Crimson.” There! I gave him my name! I don’t like my name at all. How I wish that the orphanage named me Red or Scarlet and it was much better than Crimson.