Elizabeth Bloodflame Past Life Novels & Stories

The blood oozed out of her head, making her dizzy. “SHE WAS PRAGNANT TOO, when you killed her child! SHE WAS PRAGNANT TOO, when you burned her alive!” Vladimir growled like a wounded Beast recalling his wife’s suffering, his sister’s screams. Lauren let out another painful scream. He enjoyed her screams. Her pain. But his soul was craving for more. More than these pained screams. It was screaming for her blood. It was screaming for her DEATH! Which He would give her, just not an easy one.

“This is the ember. The last spark. You can catch it, and when you catch it, it goes inside you. “But it will show you everything: just beware.” Serena glanced at Lucian. Then Elias. They were scared. She was too. But she was ready. She stepped toward the flame. It didn’t wait for her hand. It leapt. Light filled her. Not fire — truth. A thousand lives. A thousand endings. War. Betrayal. Peace. Love. And one face throughout: her ancestor. Elan’ra. Queen of the Flameborn. The torch flickered too dimly to hold it upright.

Throughout the rest of the Christmas banquet, Salvatore never left my side. His gaze was always steady and tender. He carried a subtle woody scent that put people at ease. Choosing Salvatore wasn't a rash decision. In my past life, one of Giovanni's lovers poisoned my cake on my birthday. By then, Giovanni had already taken over the Carlo family. He had grown tired of me, enough to turn a blind eye. As I lay dying, he had me dumped in the countryside and ordered his men to make it look like an accident.

In my past life, that was exactly what he did. The result was Sarah faking her death, Damien losing his mind, and me being consumed by guilt. Eventually, everything spiraled into destruction. This time, I won't repeat the same mistake. "Then why?" My mother walked over and took my hand. "Elena, you and Damien have been together since you were children. You're mates chosen by the Moon Goddess. If it's just because of some Omega—" "Mom," I looked her in the eye, my voice steady. "This isn't about Sarah, and it isn't about Damien. This is for me."

She sits for a moment longer in the dark, her hands in her lap, her expression making its way back to the version of itself that faces the world — serene, controlled, with the faint quality of untouchability that the clan elders attribute to excellent breeding and she has never bothered to correct. One sentence surfaces through everything else, settling at the bottom of her like sediment. She has known it since she was old enough to understand it. Has known it the way she knows her own name, her clan sigil, the mana resonance frequencies of her bloodline — not learned, but present. Carved into the deepest part of her, below the journal entries and the categorized fragments and the controlled

Eldwin and I had grown up together, and he had said that he would marry me when we grew up. But ever since my father brought Rosalie home, everything changed. Eldwin always assumed that my mother and I were unkind and often mistreated Rosalie. His affection also started to shift to her. In my past life, Rosalie drove a wedge between us and set me up, which resulted in Eldwin cutting my wrist tendons. He took away my ability to practice medicine and brought about my death. My love for him vanished without a trace the moment I died. Eldwin’s lips moved, as if he had something to say, but I was no longer in a mood for it. I turned around and left.

He gritted his teeth. And how would I share my dilemma with anyone? Dominic, Kate or anyone else will laugh at me if I share my reborn theory with them but I think it actually happened to me. I died and took rebirth just before a life changing event to divert the course of my present and future. We sat back on our table. For some odd reason, I feel constant stare on me. I don't want to look at that direction but it filled my heart with uneasiness. "Eve, I don't think you're fine." Dominic whispered in my ear thus bringing my attention on him and the anchor who is conducting the bidding.

They asked very few questions about her or what she was, which meant they most likely didn't know who she was. Selena walked over to them and dragged Viola. "Come on, its time for that tour that I promised you." Elizabeth arrived home covered in blood. It wasn't her own blood. It was the blood of the skin walker the Bureau had sent her to hunt. She was covered in it. It was filthy and it stank like hell. That was some of the aspects of her job that she didn't like. She peeled off her clothes, they stank and she didn't think several rounds in the dishwasher would even be able to remedy that. The smell would last forever, she would have to burn them, that was the only remedy.

"Just let me leave. I won't cause any trouble for your wedding, I swear. The last thing I ever wanted was to be your wife." Adrian scoffed. "You've been reborn, too, haven't you? In your past life, you schemed to have Emily killed to secure your position as Mrs. Quirrel. How could I ever trust someone as vicious as you?" He actually believed I was responsible for Emily's death. "I don't know what you're talking about." I retorted. "I've never harmed anyone." "Stop pretending to be innocent," Adrian snapped. He stepped forward and looked at me with utter contempt.

One name etched into the bones of the ritual: Vaulisk. Gloria didn’t flinch as the cold deepened to frost. She lowered her head and whispered, voice barely audible over the hiss of shadow: “It waits in flame. In the hollow of her blood. She just doesn’t know it yet.” Patricia’s eyes fluttered shut. Her voice sounded distant, glassy, as if carried from another time or place: “This… isn’t shadow or spirit. It’s something deeper. Hungrier. It doesn’t bend to magic. It bends magic to it.”