Fangs Of The Blood Queen Novels & Stories

The cover was worn, the pages yellowed with age, but the script inside was surprisingly legible. She flipped through it, her breath catching as she read the first few lines: "To those who follow, beware. The Blood King walks a path of shadows, tethered to the Crimson Fated by fate and fire. Their union will either save us or doom us all." Aria’s heart raced as she scanned further. The entries spoke of Lucian Draevan, the Blood King—a name she recognized from old hunter lore. He was a vampire lord from centuries past, known for his ruthlessness and enigmatic disappearance after a great war.

Elena had made her move, and she had done so with blood. The retaliation wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t calculated the way she thought it was. No—it was desperate, reckless, and meant to force our hand before we could solidify our growing dynasty. But she had made a mistake. Because we weren’t just rulers protecting an empire anymore. We were parents ensuring that no one threatened our child before they even took their first breath. And that meant there would be no mercy. It came without warning.

"Enough to cover the entire valley." Silence. Luna stepped outside. The valley was filled with glowing eyes. Wolves. Witches. Strange creatures Luna had never seen before. And at the center of them all stood a woman wearing a black crown. She looked directly at Luna. Then she smiled. Luna felt the Shadow recoil. The First Wolf growled. "Who is she?" Her father stepped beside Luna. His face had gone pale. "The Blood Queen." Luna looked at him. "What does she want?"

His nostrils flare, catching scents that make his stomach churn. And then the stench hits him. Rot. Ancient. Twisted. It crawls up his throat like something alive. A sound follows next—deep. Guttural. Like bones dragging against stone. A hollow snarl that doesn’t belong to anything natural. Then the trees behind Arwan split. Branches crack like ribs. Leaves scatter. And out steps the undead Lycan King. Theon stiffens.

The possessed Layla let out another chilling laugh. “She only defeated your pathetic Evelyn because I allowed her to tap into my power! She is mine! Her will is subservient to mine! She is merely a shell, a puppet on my strings!” “No!” I shouted, dodging another brutal assault, feeling the familiar sting of energy as she clawed at my arm, her touch burning like ice. “She’s not! She’s Layla Bloodwood, Luna Queen of the Bloodwood Pack, and she belongs to no one but herself, and to me!” My heart ached, a deep, crushing sorrow settling over me. I couldn’t keep fighting her. Not like this. This wasn't a battle against an enemy; it was a battle against my own soul. Each block, each parry, felt lik

“Yes, yes. Do you know who they are?” Still gobsmacked, I shake my head. My green eyes rest on Billie and it looks like she has gotten worse. I sit on the bed, talking with her cold hands in mine. They were warm in the morning. I blink back the salty fluids and peer up at Fiona. “You said I can save her. How?” “Your blood. She just needs to drink it. Your blood heals everyone, Queen.” She says softly, squatting down and staring at me in awe. “A match between a werewolf and witch is unheard of.”

It was the bond again, speaking to me…it was trying to convince me to accept my destiny. “I know you hear it. I know you feel it.” My mate said, those eyes again peering down at me, “You’ve always been mine Anora. I don’t plan on letting you go. Not now, not ever.” There it was. The answer to the plead I wanted. The flicker in his eyes—want, desperation….possession. I was trapped. With the blood moon king. There was no saving me. I looked down at the bowl, my tears staining its wooden interior. Slowly I slit my hand, the cut from the previous ceremony all healed up, but still slit again. My blood dropped into the bowl. He smiled, my mate.

Their glances lingered on me with something dangerously close to pity. Someone murmured that I was truly pathetic, that I had no idea what was happening around me. Another remarked that the Lord visited the orphanage almost daily to accompany Ella, and that rumors claimed they had already secured a legitimate Blood Covenant registration and completed the Crimson Bond Rite. Meanwhile, I—the publicly acknowledged Blood Queen—appeared to be nothing more than an inconvenient afterthought. I did not slow my steps. My fingers trembled as I sent a message to my father, whom I had not contacted in years, telling him simply that I wished to come home.

And at the center of it all— A dark throne made of bones and iron. Upon it sat the Bloodfang Alpha. He was massive. Armored in obsidian plates. Eyes glowing the color of molten ember. His presence filled the air like poisonous smoke. Tiara tried to move...but her feet sank into the ground as if rooted. She could only watch. The Bloodfang Alpha rose from the throne and lifted a black blade dripping with wolfsbane, tainted blood. “Moon’s child…” his voice rumbled like thunder. “I know you see me.”

In spite of this, she seemed to understand what I was going through and suggested that I follow her directions. Right after following her, I found myself moving toward my room. The moment I was in, I came to notice that a bottle of blood appeared from nowhere. “What is this?” I asked her, while struggling not to lose myself over the sweet scent of blood. “Blood of course!” She stated the obvious while chuckling. “How, and who brought it here to me?” I asked, while wishing not to have the answer that was on my mind. “The alpha king orders the maids to bring each and every morning a bottle of fresh blood, and it’s all from the bank of blood that we have in the royal hospital.”