Crimson Vengeance Novels & Stories

I’ll hand it to him, the man could kiss, and his hands were skilled, but while he was busy leaving wet kisses on my neck and whispering erotic things in my ear, I carefully pulled Crimson out from her hiding place under the mattress, where I had hidden her earlier when I snuck into his room. I was just about to go for his neck when he noticed what I was doing and acted fast. He grabbed my arm to keep my blade away and the way we were positioned didn’t give me a clear angle of his neck. So while he was busy trying to disarm my right hand, I switched the blade to my left and pierced Crimson into the femoral artery of his right thigh. He screamed in pain and shock and once I withdrew my blade,

•A MAN OF VENGEANCE• Rig cursed as soon as the ceiling collapsed. He pulled Collin with him to avoid the falling burning debris of the house, the door near them was blocked with a post that fell and everything's on fire, the only way to get out is the back door that was clearly open from being bombed. "There's no way for the two of you to get out of here alive! You have to pass through me, but only if... my big bro fight with me." Klyde negotiated with them.

But then, it’s either my boys are not that good or you’re very good, you were not meant to escape. I shook my head again as the memories of my dead crew members stabbed at my heart. ‘’I wasn’t good. Three of my men died that day.’’ The vampire smiled. ‘’ You’re smarter than I thought you were. We don’t need to talk too much, I need your word that you’ll not try to work against us while we both bring down the Rhineharts together, do I get your word on that?’’ I laughed. ‘’ What, so I’m just supposed to give you my word and then walk out of here a free man?’’

Death draws me towards it like we have been attached with an unbreakable string. Maybe it's just a superpower in which I get the last chance to save the person in front of me or maybe it’s a curse. Particularly a Crimson curse, as I like to call it. Through the years the number of deaths I have seen is greater than my age. You would think that death doesn't affect me anymore. You are right to think that because that is what I had thought until 5 days ago.

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.

Her hands curled into fists, though they trembled. “Varek,” she whispered. “Finally,” he drawled, stepping closer, the firelight glinting in his silver-steel eyes. “You and I… alone. Not my first time, you know—being with the Crimson bloodline.” The words dripped with venom and something worse: pride. Rhea’s eyes darted around, desperate. The fire’s glow flickered against something sharp—a charred branch resting in the flames. She snatched it, ash scattering as the hot wood seared her palm.

Then humanity needed to change with it. At first, Husen worked alongside them willingly. He believed they were searching for a cure. For months they studied ancient blood samples preserved beneath the station. The samples behaved unlike anything known. They regenerated damaged tissue. They repaired cells. They adapted to foreign organisms instead of rejecting them. The researchers named it...Crimson Blood. Husen warned them repeatedly. "We don't understand it." Their answer never changed. "We'll never understand it if we're afraid to touch it."

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.

I squinted, pushing my body up on the bed as I tried to listen keenly. "The entire supernatural world is in chaos. My father wants the Crown of Thorns, and he wants me back to face punishment under the Lycan law. The Vampire covens are fighting over who should hold the Crimson heart now that it has been returned. The witches are dong the same, constantly arguing about who should bear the Serpent's eye..." she said. "That's a lot of chaos..." I cut in sharply, exhaling deeply as I repositioned myself on the bed. The fragile unity that existed amongst themselves during the crisis had faded off as soon as things returned to normal.

From this distance, I could see the faces I wanted, the ones who had caused me to rot behind bars, the ones who had betrayed me, the ones who had taken what I believed was mine. Croft, all arrogant poise and silent strength, stood near Jennifer, holding her as if nothing could touch her. Jennifer herself, pale, broken, and fragile-looking, leaned on her friends and family. My laugh was silent, restrained, only for me. This was perfection. I had to see them up close, not just their faces of grief, but the reactions, the hidden truths behind those reactions. This period, which should have been a joyous union of Croft and Jennifer, had turned into an ocean of blood, and I had been absent to wit