Crimson Widow Novels & Stories

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.

Moore asks. I use the link hoping that Jamie will naturally answer for me. “He says that before leaving Crimson Dawn Alpha Black gave him one milligram of sublingual Ativan. Half takes the edge off, one helps him sleep.” Jamie doesn’t fail to relay my message. “What are your names?” “I’m Jamison Williams and he’s Cole Redmen.” Jamie answers easily as we slowly make our way across the room. “What are your ranks?” It seems rank means a lot to this pack. “The seat he wants you in is right behind you. All you have to do is sit.”

If anything, I just want to watch—discreetly. This isn’t pain without love. This is grief that comes from love. He rises slowly, presses a kiss to Warrick’s forehead, then turns to leave. I don’t wait. I slip into the hallway and rush into the empty room beside mine. I watch through the doorway as he walks out, slow and heavy steps. My chest aches for him. ******************************************** The next day, as soon as six in the morning, I am awake. I glance at the black outfit hanging on the mannequin in front of my closet, and the realization hits me like a slow punch—I am a widow at twenty-one.

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.

The minute the area is clear of any Bampires, she gestures for me to come into the courtroom, where we have a shocked Lady Candice staring at me in fear. “Lady Candice, I am Cristina, the new High harbinger leader of not solely this council but of the entire planet. You are here for the assassination of Lord Cameron of Bluestoria your husband. How do you plead, Lady Candice?” she stares at me before responding to Cristina’s question. “I, Lady Candice of Bluestoria plead guilty to slaughtering my husband, Lord Cameron. The reason I murdered him was that he took the one thing I treasured the most away from me, her!” She replied to Cristina as she pointed in my direction.

A tall woman with flowing white hair. A crimson mask concealed the upper half of her face. In her hand rested a spear forged entirely from black crystal. She smiled. “The reunion is touching.” Her gaze settled on Damien. “Welcome home…” “…Vessel.” ⸻ Damien instinctively stepped in front of Alessio. “No.” The woman laughed. “You still think you’re protecting them.” ⸻ She raised one hand. Every Crimson warrior struck the floor with their spears. The cathedral filled with a low, vibrating hum.

Just stood silently in the rain, holding the umbrella. The more silent he was, the more Raina didn’t know what to do with him. They stood in the rain for what felt like an eternity, until she gave up and turned away, continuing forward. She had something to find—something she could use to avenge Eli and Ian. It was a rare and lethal poison she’d once seen in a remote place. A plant that grew only in a specific environment. Its name was Widow's Bloom. She needed just one. One Widow's Bloom was enough to kill every living person in Crimson Hollow—infected or not. No survivors. No exceptions. ***

I answered unwaveringly. "Okay" Crimson walked towards Tryamon, she stretched out her hands for a handshake "my name is Crimson, Aethelfrith's betrothed" Tyramon's phone fell from her hands, her eyes widened but she managed to compose herself quickly. "Aethelfrith betrothed?" Tyramon asked, looking unsure of what she heard. "Yes, you heard right" Crimson smiled, "my hands are still on the air" "Oh my, forgive my bad manners" Tyramon forced a smile, reaching out to shake Crimson's hand.

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

Domenik moved—closer, never touching, but every inch of him a barrier. “She’s not leaving with you.” The Widow tilted her head. “I never asked her to.” She leaned in, low enough for only Eirwen to hear: “Find me when you’re tired of letting men decide your price.” Then, louder, almost bored: “Run.” A crack split the stairwell. Gas hissed again. The Widow turned and was gone—slipping into the storm, a ghost made real by reputation alone. Chaos crashed back in. Boots. Orders. Guns primed for war.