Esther Trinity Blood Novels & Stories

I tightened my grip and replied calmly, “Don’t worry. Even if I strangle a piece of trash like you with my bare hands, those snipers won’t be able to stop me. Trust me—I’m no rookie either.” I raised my voice, locking eyes with him. “Still haven’t figured out what to say to save your pathetic life?” Suddenly, sirens blared in the distance. Dozens of vehicles were pulling up. Nathan, his voice hoarse and cracked, screamed, “You’re done for! They’re here now—just wait for the bullets! Mr. Andy Stormbringer will never let you live!” I clenched my hand even harder. But how could I let him die so easily?

Did he truly expect I would lower myself to feast on livestock? I released him and let out a weary sigh. “A processed blood will do.” With that, I turned away, too weak to argue further. As I sat waiting in the garden, I buried my face in my palms. Father knew. He knew I was too vulnerable—that as a bloodling, my bloodlust was unpredictable—and still, he sent me here. Into this dog-infested land. I hate feeling weak. “Princess? Here’s the blood.” The voice wasn’t the Beta’s. I looked up, recognizing the face but not the name.

Inheritance Beyond Bone: A Study of Blood Memory in the Sovereign Lines Codex Umbra: Forbidden Forms and the Repercussions of Shadowwork Veins of the Vale: Mapping the Ancestral Ether in Delta Bloodlines The Tyrant’s Mirror: How Empaths Unraveled the War of Seven Wills Of Flame and Stone: House Emberdark’s Fall and the Quiet Curse that Followed Declarations Made in Silence: Oaths Taken Beneath the Aureum Sky

“Ethan’s cruelty has no limits. Even now, he seeks to control you.” I pulled back slightly, my lips trembling. “Can it be broken?” He looked at me, his eyes blazing with determination. “Yes,” he said, his voice low and certain. “But it will not be easy. A blood oath is ancient magic, and to sever it, we must fight it with blood of our own.” A shiver ran through me. “What does that mean?” “It means,” he said, cupping my face in both hands, “that I will need to make my own vow, stronger than his. I will need to bind you to me—not as a possession, but as a protection. And to do that, blood must be spilled.”

Her heartbeat, quick and strong. Her blood, potent and forbidden, singing across the wind. It was more than hunger. It was destiny. I closed my eyes, my fangs pricking as I imagined her taste. Warmth flooding my mouth, power coursing through my veins like wildfire. A tribrid’s blood could make me unstoppable. But there was more. Beneath the hunger, something sharp and unfamiliar twisted in me. Jealousy. The image of her wrapped in Damien’s arms, his mark burning

I looked down at the blood bond, at the space where the name Grace Vance was written. In my last life, I signed my name there and handed him my fate. Never again. I pricked my finger and smeared blood over the ink, blurring the letters. Then, slowly, I wrote another name. Isabella. The silver quill glided across the parchment, and every stroke was a release I’d never felt before. "It's done," I said, handing the bond to the Elder presiding over the ritual. The ancient vampire took the contract and began the incantation. A golden light rose from the parchment, and the blood-red text began to glow.

bearable. "Well, I liked to think of myself as an ascetic," she said. "An ascetic?" I looked up from my book with a raised eyebrow. "Like those Indian gurus who starve themselves to free their souls?" "Something like that," she just shrugged. "Maybe I should be an anorexic vampire then," I murmured to myself. Octavia muffled a laugh. "We're half-blood," she said, "We don't feed off humans." "Doesn't come naturally to me," I said. "Didn't you just say I'm quite different?"

He fell back to the ground with me on top; in retaliation for what he had done to me, I scratched his neck - the first thing I could sink my nails into - then leapt up to my feet. A single drop of blood fell to the floor from my broken scar, and the most animalistic growl I had ever heard rippled out of my own chest. I spun to the stairs in a sprint, hoping to the Goddess that no one had heard the commotion and would be waiting to take me down. “IRWIN!” Omari yelled after me, as I made it down a couple of steps. Something compelled me to look back at him.

Anine asked. "Your daughter needs the blood of the deity on it. When he appeares in human form, give him a cut. Do not wrestle with him. Just a cut. The blood of that body he uses is the only thing that is needed on this sword. Ajonwa is a Spirit but he uses the body to wreak havoc. Get the blood on the sword and he would be no more. "He would kill me!" Anine said almost loudly. "Once his blood touches the sword, he would be rendered powerless and he will never use that body again. Can you do it? Consider the generation yet unborn and what he would do to them. Remember what he did to you, would you allow him to do it to another?"

I sometimes felt that I was intrigued by the mystery which had engulfed her. I couldn't read her mind, and I couldn't Compel her. You couldn't blame me for being amused. We later found out that she was a Quetet. A bloodline of people with sacred blood. It was her blood Suzana had given us to drink before she turned us into these amazing creatures. She also had the power to neutralize the spell, which made me feel human when I was around her, and when she was still human.