Fear The Old Blood Novels & Stories

His voice softened dangerously. “Look at me.” “I could hurt you.” “That isn’t possible.” “You don’t know that.” “I do.” My chest tightened painfully. “You didn’t see my mother when her wolf lost control,” I whispered shakily. “You didn’t hear what people said about white wolves.” Memories flashed sharply through my head. Monsters. Cursed blood. Unstable. Deadly. The old fear wrapped around my throat all over again. Keiran moved slowly off the bed. I could hear every step.

“Not until she says you can.” Fear rippled through the crowd. Some tried to crawl back. Others cried. A few begged. None of it mattered. Ethan turned away from them and walked back into the mansion. Up on the balcony, Lily stood frozen. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around the iron grill behind her, knuckles pale. The screams below had faded, replaced by a suffocating silence. When she heard footsteps, her breath hitched. “Lily.” She turned slowly. Ethan stood a few feet away, his shadow stretching toward her under the balcony lights. She didn’t move closer. She didn’t move away. Her eyes were wide—not with hatred, not with anger—but with something closer to fear mixed with disbelief.

Blood. Bloody handprints decorated the walls of the foyer. Small hands. The taste of fear was new. Something I hadn’t felt in so long, I forgot its bitter taste in the back of my throat. Like metal and gunpowder that was sure to take something you loved, more than anything in this world, away from you. It took hold of my throat and choked the living daylights out of me. My vision blurred and a red haze descended over everything. Like a fucked up, bloody film.

They slipped into a corner table, hidden from view, Mira’s knee brushing Alice’s under the table, her gaze intense but warm. “Tell me what’s wrong,” Mira said, her voice soft but probing. “You’re shutting me out.” Alice’s chest tightened. She wanted to spill everything—Liam’s forbidden pull, Kane’s burning promise, Ezra’s words that made her feel seen but scared. But Mira’s eyes held her, warm but sharp, and she couldn’t shake the image of that tattoo, the crescent moon with claws. “I’m… scared,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I’m changing, Mira. I can feel it—my senses, my nails. I’m not me anymore.”

Either way, she did not like the way she was feeling at the moment. The main factor that contributes to her build-up anxiety has to be the incident that happened last night. Thinking about it makes her blood run cold. She can still feel his emotionless eyes glaring at her, and his hatred radiating even from afar. If by chance, he'd show up in front of her today, Giselle would gladly embrace death. "Oh, my goodness. No way!" Yvonne could choke in her own surprise.

If I am not loved, I must be feared. The 17-year-old young boy stood drenched in his mother's blood, the crimson liquid tracing down his body, spreading across the floor turning the once white floor tiles into a dreading scarlet sea. He felt his burning lungs out of the air, his heated pulse racing and his mouth hung open but was devoid of any power to form any word. He wanted to cry out, somehow halt the relentless blood oozing out of his dead mother's mouth but with each passing moment, he felt himself turning to a stone as the crushing reality was seeping into his bones and obliterating his soul.

She opens the book and a roach crawls out. I shriek, jerking my knees to my chest. Esme raises a brow. “You’re a wolf, and you’re scared of a roach?” “What’s a wolf without a wolf?” My smile is bittersweet. “Don’t do that,” she scolds. “You wolf will return. Now, when the rumours came, I consulted the books and some friends.” I try not to let my own thoughts scare me. “What did you find?” “You know, I’ve lived through almost seven decades, and I know a bloodline that had white hair. Moonblood.”

That's nothing compared to threatening someone with their child's life! Wayne was so furious that he could barely talk. He whipped out his phone to call the cops. That was when I finally said, with a cool voice, "Don't bother calling the cops. It won't change anything." Wayne thought I was giving up and started making threats. "Feeling scared now? Are you feeling guilty? It doesn't matter. The police are on their way, and they’ll take you to jail soon! "By the time you're out, the golden days for programmers will be long gone, and you'll be nothing but a despised rat for the rest of your life!"

"Fine. Breathe. In and out. The bond is amplifying the claustrophobia." "Easy for you to say," Zeyric muttered, wiping a bead of cold sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. "Your family doesn't expect you to be a pure-blood prodigy who never breaks a sweat. My mana has been a mess since day one, and now I can feel your aristocratic panic mingling with my own."

I whisper to myself as I tried to calm down yet the thought of touching something stuffy makes me even frighten. I got the courage to look at it and I see red liquid, it coated the book and what made me even afraid is when I saw plenty of it on the floor. "Whose blood is this?" I began to breathe heavily and as I start to walk once again, I covered my mouth to prevent myself from shrieking in fear. My feet lead me into the corner of the shop and my lips parted as my eyes became teary when I saw the old man who used to own the place. "Who killed him?" I whispered as I gradually covered my mouth. I was covered with fright and I hasten to get back to where Lorelei stood.