Crimson Widow Novels & Stories

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.

Have you heard of them? Dante's face is grim. "No. But if they're what Connor thought they were—" "Then Victoria's crimes were just the beginning." Sera looks up at him. "We need to tell the tribunal." "Agreed." They find Agent Morrison in a conference room, reviewing evidence. When they show her the letter, her expression goes from curious to alarmed. "The Crimson Order," she says slowly. "I've heard rumors. Underground hunter organization, supposedly disbanded in the 1800s. But if they're back." She pulls out her phone, making calls. "I need to bring this to the tribunal immediately."

"We have more important things to take care of. Now go and do my bidding. There will be no more deaths tonight, and woe betide that creature if it lays a claw on anyone else I care about. Now please...just go and stay safe." "But...what of you?!" Crimson had already buttoned her collar up tightly up and was heading down the hallway, Mary following hot on her heels. "Lady Crimson?!" But Crimson was not listening, she ran into her bedroom and went to the closet, pulling out a large winter coat before running round to the other side of the grand four poster bed and pulling out from the nearby dresser a loaded pistol. She dragged on the coat and slotted the pistol into a belt she found in Robert

With a thought, the infromation organized itself and, in her minds eye, now appeared a digital window; [SUMMARY] Name: Nya Crimson Age: 19 Condition: Standard Alias: N/A Titles: N/A Classification: Omen Species: High Vampire Rank: N/A Phantasm: Blood Reaper; ability to assimilate abilities from the blood matter of other beings. [Notice: You have been designated a 'Special Existence; REGIS' whose choices may shape the fate of the cosmos. More information will be available at a later point.] She read the details on the window intently, she didn't know how, but she knew that this window was now part of a much grander network that she had access to.

RIVER. Quinn stiffened, her eyes widening in horror like she’d just heard a ghost’s name. Wesley glanced at her. “You know her?” I cursed under my breath. “Fuck. I know her too. That’s the Crimson Witch who started the Bloodbath. She led the main tribe of Crimson Witches, the whole damn reason the war ten years ago even happened!” “What, you mean the one with the long black hair?” Wesley asked, his brows furrowed.

Two already gone. Two left. In the swaying dark, Raven Winterstar—scion of death, girlfriend of a vampire princess—waited for the end she could no longer fight. And somewhere far behind, in a crimson castle, Victoria Rose stared west through a tower window, blood still drying on her cheeks like unshed tears. She had not slept. She would not sleep. Not until Raven was home. Or until the world burned trying to keep her away. Echoes in the Crimson Tower

He asked with a smile. "Y-yeah!" Harri said, snapping out of his thoughts as he took a step over to me and held out the velvet pillow with the two rings on it. I took one, while Max took the other. “Then with the blessings of all the Gods within Annwn, I pronounce you husband and husband,” the holy man said while offering us both a small piece of myrtle. There was some reason behind this particular herb with the mortal rulers, but I wasn’t quite clear about its use. It seemed fitting to use it, though.

“Black Crimson has an extremely distinctive style. If you have someone else paint for him, it’s just going to be written off as a fake.” “No,” Hayden assured him. “It’s not.” When everyone merely frowned, confused, I groaned and rolled my eyes, willing him not to stick out his own neck or admit anything stupid. “No way,” I told him, slashing out a hand. “I’m not down with that plan.” But he didn’t have to say anything. Because Camille suddenly gasped. “Oh my God,” she murmured, gaping between me and Hayden with sudden realization. “Black Crimson isn’t just one person. You guys are like the Brothers Hildebrandt.” She spun to address my brother. “Aren’t you?”

_______________ **BLURB** Book 1] CRIMSON : 'Il Velo di MINE' {The Veil of Mine} from MAFIA DARK ROMANCE MINE series He lowered his head, his pupils burning like an ignited flame. "Maybe you think you can escape from me... BUT YOU CAN'T GET AWAY FROM ME", He whispered softly in her ears, causing her to shiver under his gaze. He was her WARMTH. She was his PEACE. but everything was not this simple at all. *** Zafira Wilder, a 30-year-old divorcee, thought she had escaped the shadows of her past, but her world is about to be shattered.