Every Cloak Rolled In Blood Novels & Stories

The darkness as far as I know from my mother's journal and from watching there, the darkness can only see the light but is blind when it comes to the dark and the folks who are covered in full body with the color of the raven. Someone in the dream that I have but forgotten about, told me this when I was near this same stone statue as the light was shining in my eyes. "The darkness will turn a blind eye to dark but they will attack anything in the light. To adventure into the land under the eyes of the darkness, dress as dark as the darkness, blind their eyes." Then this same light shows up around me, when I put this cloak around my shoulder that she brings with her when she wants to go into

The experience made my stomach churn. "Witnesses have to die!" he sneered. "Not that easy, you parasite," I snapped. The vampire looked at me and bared his teeth in anger, showing off his extra-white fangs. I took a few steps back, not very sure of what to prepare for. I wasn't even properly dressed for a good combat, and I might get myself killed just by tripping over my own dress. The poor girl was out cold on the floor. But I still couldn't walk away like that.

I shake my head and send my own thoughts through the link. She is strong and she’s on our side. “We’re in the middle of a battle, aren’t we?” Clara singsonged. I pulled my gaze from Jake and looked at Clara. She doesn’t take any steps towards me but she stares at us. Her gaze flitting between me and Jake. My eyes trailed down her body. If her dress had been all black, I wouldn’t have seen the rogue’s blood, but it wasn’t all black. It was black and brown and the spirals started below her chest and ended at her thigh. The spirals of brown were splattered with blood, a lot of blood.

Killian whispered, his gravelly voice dropping into a low rumble that vibrated straight through my collarbone. ​Slowly, he turned his massive frame, keeping one solid arm wrapped tightly around my waist, pinning my hips flush against his side. He forced me to look out over the crimson-stained snow. ​Dozens of Bloodmoon warriors—men and women who had spent years treating me like an invisible, scentless slave—stood frozen among the wreckage. None of them looked at the dead Vanguard bodies. Their eyes were glued to the heavy, silver-stitched crimson Royal cloak hanging from my shoulders, and the deep, burning crimson fire ringed by liquid gold that still swirled within my pupils.

The dim moonlight broke through the storm clouds and illuminated a horrifying scene. A tall figure draped in a heavy crimson cloak stood over a fallen body in the middle of the gravel walkway. The dark fabric of the cloak confirmed the Crimson Eclipse cult was already active inside the palace walls. The fallen man groaned in pain and weakly clutched a massive bleeding wound on his side. I squinted through the rain and recognized the silver and black uniform of the royal guard. His protective metal helmet rested in a puddle of muddy water a few inches away from his head.

In place of where I had laid, a white woolen-like cloak is there. "My lady..." Anya points out, whispering, careful enough to not let the stranger hear. "There's a cloak. It seems to have come from you." I had read somewhere that Swan shifters used cloaks to turn into swans. This is my first turning and the half moon has blessed me with my cloak. I look carefully at it. Surprisingly, my blood didn't get on it. "Take it and hide it," I order, scooping a handful of water and splashing it over my skin, washing the blood away.

Dressed in official Blackrock attire, the man stood with his hands behind his back, staring blankly at the sky, pretending not to see the Dark Blood warrior’s red eyes or his foul play. There were still Rhoderick’s moles among the top officials, and this one held far greater authority than the corrupt official from the day before. Blood Axe steadied himself. He lowered his head and licked the black blood oozing from his palm. The pain on his face faded, replaced by a hideous, fanatical grin. He grabbed his heavy cloak with both hands and tore it apart forcefully. The fabric ripped to shreds, exposing his muscular chest covered in old scars. A black rune over his heart pulsed wildly, as if it

He laughs, squeezes harder . Adrian roars, tackles him off me, gets a sword through the shoulder for it. Blood pours. “Adrian!” I scream. He doesn’t even flinch, keeps fighting, blade buried in another vampire’s chest. Sorrel grabs my hair. “The king wants you alive. Doesn’t mean unbroken.” I head-butt her. She staggers. Adrian’s losing blood fast, movements slowing. A shadow detaches from the wall. A man in a hooded cloak steps out, voice like smoke. “Enough.”

I straightened, chest heaving, as rain washed blood from my face in thin crimson rivulets. Antonio stepped forward from where he’d been guarding the perimeter, his sword still sheathed. “They’re getting desperate,” he said calmly, his gaze sweeping over the dead. The war might start sooner than I thought. I didn’t look at him. My eyes were locked on the third rogue’s cloak, now soaked in rain and blood. A faint sigil glimmered on its chest – a crescent moon split in half, dripping dark fangs. My lips curled back into a snarl.

Sharper this time. I swallowed. My hands were shaking. I hugged my sketchbook tighter. He exhaled through his nose. Looked at the blood on his knuckles like it had personally offended him. Then he reached into his jacket, pulled out a black bandana, and started wrapping his hand. I watched, stupidly mesmerized. “Why were you there?” I asked quietly. His eyes flicked to mine. “I was passing through.” “Twice in two days you’ve ‘passed through’ exactly where I am.”