Every Cloak Rolled In Blood Novels & Stories

"Whoever they are, if they're after my daughter, all they'll find is death." Right as Hunter's words ended, the night wind blowing down from the dead mountain peaks carried a deeply foreign scent, not the scent of wolves, but the thick, cold stench of blood. In the distance, atop one of the bare rocky hill peaks, a figure in a blood-red cloak stood motionless beneath the dimming moonlight, staring directly at our new pavilion with eyes that emitted a dark violet glow. They weren't attacking tonight. They were simply marking their new prey.

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 looked around at the faces of our warriors, and I could now see the mix of relief in their expressions. Roland immediately walked up to me. Patches of blood stains were on his body and on the clothes he was now wearing. Changing forms while still dressed leaves our clothes torn, which is why clothes are hidden around corners of the pack and the forest for days like today, for everyone to cover up. His face was set strongly, but he looked proud. “You did well,” I said, my voice steady despite the chaos around us. “You led them exactly as I asked. The timing was perfect, and you did not give anything away.”

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.

I stared at the cloak on the floor, crimson pooling like spilled blood, and whispered to the empty chamber: “He will choke on what he stole from me. And the boy will be the dagger.”

"Then die together. The Pact will be signed in your blood." ​As the spear descended, a sudden chime echoed through the vault. It was the codex. It had flipped open, its pages turning with a sound like autumn leaves. A brilliant beam of violet light shot upward from the book, piercing the cavern ceiling and creating a pillar of energy that trapped Catherine in its center. ​The woman shrieked as the light began to strip away the shadows she had woven around herself. She wasn't just losing her power; she was being unmade.

Our manager is one tough cookie to crack,a minute late he will lecture you to for being tardy wishing you'd crawl back and never be seen. I sigh as I take out my contacts for my disguise looks.After all have been through and deciding to cloak myself as Marie,I also had to change my looks choosing a blonde wig and blue eye contacts hiding my grey eyes.I also had to tan myself a bit to hide my pale skin.I closed my eyes letting myself fall into slumber with only one thought in mind,time to reign.

Even so, right that moment, I was so sure that the person walking towards me was him. His hair was red and ponytailed. He has three piercings in the right ear and has a tattooed symbol at his left temple down to his cheek. He was wearing a black cloak tainted with a lot if red stains, which I'm sure is blood. The thought of whose blood is it terrifies me. By the way he looks, he obviously just came from a war. But why did he make it here? Does that mean... No. It can't be. Red smoke went out from my necklace. The next second, Raja's growl echoed in the whole palace. His tail surrounded me in a protective stance.

One of the younger scouts ran in, panting. “We found something!” he said breathlessly. “What now?” I demanded. “Not rogues. Something else. You need to see it.” The blood drained from my face as he held up a torn strip of fabric—black, with a silver crest burned into it. I recognized it instantly. It was Sage’s cloak. And it was covered in blood.

He didn’t think of him as a reader. Damon opened a huge cabinet from the side of the room and pulled out a bloody red cloak. It looked familiar to her. “Wait… is that-“ “No. She’s not the only one who has this.” Harper frowned. It was kind of anti-climactic to the positive emotions she was feeling at the moment that she has to wear Shahila’s cloak. “What is it then? Who does it belong to?” “We have lots of these. For emergency purposes. Black’s for the men.”