Crimson Widow Novels & Stories

“We confirmed it. The Revenant took the contract. The one assassin everyone was terrified of. The one no one sees coming.” I let out a sharp breath and turned away, staring out the window. Moscow glowed beneath us, golden lights hiding rotting bones. “How the hell did he get to him?” I muttered. “That place was a fucking fortress.” “She’s a ghost,” Alek said quietly. “No pattern. No signature. She picks her kills like a god picks storms.” “She?” He nodded. “Her real name’s Amara Voss. Used to work under a few aliases; Russian, Italian, Middle Eastern. Never caught. Never seen. Just bodies and flames in her wake.”

Fighting a group of scraggly Vampire rebels who had no clue what being discreet meant had to be easier than taking out the Rhineharts and Thier dynasty. I did not plan to hurt Amelia, as long as she did not try to stand in my way. She was my mate after all, and she could either come to terms with her new life, or she'd be caught up in the war between I and her family, and if that happened -- I cannot tell if I would be able to restrain my wolf from stealing the very life put of her. Killing one's own mate was called setra, it was the highest form of torture, but I did not mind, I had nothing much to live for. I loved the pain.

“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

Hinugot ni Crimson ang kutsilyo mula sa pisnge nito. “Sweetie, you don't tell a psycho that they are a psycho.” She smiled sweetly. “It makes them mad.” Bulong nito. “Are you mad?” Tanong ko at agad naman siyang tumingin sa akin bago tumawa nang bahagya. “Oh, very.” Her smile faded as she gripped on Lore's neck tightly, choking her. “If you're so desperate to see Hellios, why don't you join him?” Nanggigigil na suhestiyon ni Crimson sa dalaga at pinagsasaksak ito sa leeg.

He closes the door behind him gently and then he walks down the stairs and into the kitchen. Behind him, in the bedroom Blake unhurriedly opens his eyes, his red eyes glimmering in the darkness of the room. ***** Cassandra walks down the corridor heading for her quarters, the dark stone walls of the palace walls unsettling as they always have, as she turns the corner she comes face to face with Ophelia, a fellow witch and also the bane of her existence.

The silver burns more painfully than I expected death to feel. They gripped the chains tightly around my wrists, my ankles, my throat. Each link searing into my skin like liquid fire, eating through flesh until I can smell my own burning. I should be screaming. I think I was, moments ago. Now there's only the wind rushing past my ears as I fall, and the strange clarity that comes when you know these are your final seconds. Widow's Peak earned its name for a reason. Seventy-three widows, the pack history says. Seventy-three women who threw themselves from this cliff rather than live without their mates.

"Your wife, Colonel Mitchell? Sarah, wasn't it? Found torn apart in that alley, claw marks suggesting a werewolf attack?" His face goes white. "How do you know her name? I never told you..." "Because I killed her, James." The words taste like victory and ash on my tongue. "I needed someone with your resources, your connections, your rage. So I created you. I killed Sarah, left evidence pointing to supernaturals, and waited for you to find the right people. To build Crimson Dawn into what it needed to be." He stumbles backward, hands trembling. "No. No, you're lying. You're just a girl, you couldn't have..."

The word slammed into me again, the same word Sydney had spat at me like an insult I wasn't meant to understand. "What is a Crimson wolf?" The question tore out of me, desperate, hungry for an answer I'd been denied my entire life. "Crimson wolves are omegas — easy to underestimate, easy to overlook at a glance. But their minds move faster and sharper than any other bloodline that's ever existed. That gift made them hunted." Her eyes didn't leave mine. "They were the rarest bloodline the Makasi Moon Pack ever produced." So I wasn't sick. I wasn't cursed. I was the last surviving thread of something ancient and rare.

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.

The sun is setting when they finally reach Crimson Hollow. The pack house is lit up, and wolves gathered on the lawn. Marcus meets them as they park. "Alpha. Luna. We heard about the tribunal." "Victoria confessed," Dante says. "She'll be executed tomorrow." Murmurs ripple through the gathered wolves, shock, relief, satisfaction. "There's more," Dante continues. "The corruption went deeper than we thought. Victoria was working with a hunter organization called the Crimson Order. They're planning attacks on supernatural communities worldwide." The murmurs turn to growls, angry and afraid.