Fear The Old Blood Novels & Stories

He frowned. “She offered heart blood,” he said hoarsely. “Not even a drop. A channel.” The crowd began to murmur. Everyone suddenly had something to say. “That’s impossible.” “Is she a pure…” “She’s not….” “She shouldn’t be alive…” “That’s dangerous!” “Why?” I heard his voice. His voice was breaking as he spoke. “Why would…why would you do this!” The elder looked at me again, I saw the fear in his eyes and realized that he was in awe. “No ordinary werewolf could survive this.”

Fear seized me, freezing me in place, and my eyes widened with the chilling realization of his presence. But fear was quickly eclipsed by a torrent of something much darker – an unrelenting thirst for revenge. Casto had not only taken away my entire family but had ended my first life. Despite all that, he arrogantly believed he could continue making my second life miserable. The fear morphed into an intense, seething fury that surged through my veins.

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!"

I watched him carefully, noting the tightening of his jaw, the way his lips pressed into a line as he processed my intentions. “Vanda,” he said quietly, using my name. “What exactly are you planning?” I leaned back in my chair, letting the weight of my decision settle into the room. “The old way,” I said. He knew immediately. Packs bound by Elder Blood don’t rely on phones. They never have. Communication comes through letters, sealed, signed, trusted. My father had taught me that before he died, and the lesson had burned into me: some traditions endure because forgetting them is fatal.

It was different from their world where the day and night differs. "It would be hard for Steve and his family to roam about now. He dare not come out when it's sunny" "You also realize that we can't change when it's day, Alpha" "I know. It would be possible when we've found the lost blood" Elon smirked. His omega, Dean, stared at him with a confused expression. "Lost blood? Where are we going to find that?"