Dead Man's Blood Supernatural Novels & Stories

Brea was unrecognizable, she held fish, lifted a knife and cut it. It blood trailed over her hand unto the circle, she stood, bare feet and began to dance in the blood. Her hair flew with the usual wind in the room, and our spirits moved to the sound only to be heard by spirits. We stood up and moved, we unlocked something. Something not of this world, spirits thousands and thousands of dead evil spirits filled the room. They began to say the same prophecy "The blood of the human shall unleash great power!"

“He taught me strategy. He taught me arrogance.” “Which did you keep?” “Both, until I watched him die.” The words weren’t theatrical; they were iron filings settling. “The Dominion learned he carried moonblood—old lines mingled with witch veins. They wanted our house as proof that magic and wolf could breed true. They got him instead. I was too young then to stop it. Too proud to ask for help.” Kaelira sat with that. “And the tether?”

I made that clear to him before he chuckled and continued. Silver Bloods? I've never heard of them before. Where was he getting all this from? Now he was just ranting off. "That was what I thought as well—if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I had seen such wolves only less than a handful of times. They are as rare as blood jade diamonds. But in the end, Dr. Carter was able to kill her using the star-shaped pendant. This object is capable of weakening them to their lowest point if exposed to them for a long while. And then he stabbed her, in order for her not to heal fast—until she bled out and died."

Nibbling and grazing the golden neck. "Then.. Don’t. Now that I can’t, but if I could I would love to die in your arms" . Callum said, losing himself in Stephen’s arms. The moon was at its peak. Full Blue moon like Stephen eyes that had turned red. He placed his lips on the pulsing vein before barring his teeth. Callum felt a sting and then all he could feel was a frenzy, a euphoria. He now knew why Stephen felt excited offering him his blood.

The air grew heavier with each passing hour, as though the world itself was bracing for something unnatural. Ever since the gods’ messenger appeared, the countdown had begun—seven days until the Day of the Blood Moon. Seven days to prepare. Seven days to survive. Ava sat beneath the twisted elder tree outside the sanctuary, the bark behind her pulsing faintly as if aware of her presence. The wind was sharp, slicing through the night with whispers. Her fingers traced the mark on her wrist—ever since she mixed her blood with Achi’s, the mark had darkened, a signal that something ancient had awakened.

The scent of her blood was making him loose control of his senses enough and he knew himself. This blood was going to control him from no on.. He couldn't tell just why yet but it was going to. And if he were unable to keep her by his side, he would have to live with he fact that he would keep living his manor this way anytime he were to perceive the scent of her blood. "What are you doing here?" Damian said coldly on walking towards where he stood, keeping a few centimeters difference between them. His were-soldiers gathered, and a gamma who was higher than the other soldiers stood beside him, awaiting his orders on what to do to the unarmed man.

I release the death grip with an effort, flexing my fingers as if to prove I am flesh and not another ghost in this place. "Tell me what you need," I say. Her lips work silently for a moment before any sound emerges. "Nothing. It is done. We bless the dead, we wait for the bones to finish burning. The rest is gone." She reaches into her apron and produces a sprig of something green. Not a flower—nothing blooms here—but a weed, tough and grayish. She hands it to me, and I take it because to refuse would be to break her entirely. "For luck," she says. "Or memory."

To the new leader of the blood-born, Malakai was the ultimate prize—a never-ending, self-replenishing blood bag of pure sustenance. The entity pulled back, its jagged jaw smeared with Malakai's bright, vibrant crimson blood. The monster let out a low, vibrating hum of sheer satisfaction. With a casual, effortless tug, it hauled Malakai's limp, paralyzed body out of the mud by his ruined silk collar, dragging him backward toward the edge of the cliff like a piece of slaughtered meat.