Forged By Blood Novels & Stories

“Fuck you, Hudson.” “Sometimes deals are made in blood, Saint. It wouldn’t be the first time a good man’s death is bargained over for territory and power.” I shook my head and walked out to the car. Carter and his men followed me. We might not be good men, but we were honorable men. Our word was as good as a contract. I always delivered on my promises, because if you didn’t have the power of your word, you had nothing.

The ancient creature studied her. For centuries, others had spoken for her. Kings. Councils. Guardians. Everyone had decided what she should become. But now she stood beneath a dying moon, demanding answers. And for the first time… The Guardian listened. “The Blood Eclipse appears only when the blood of the Forgotten Moon is reunited.” Elara looked at Sera. “Why?” The Guardian’s voice lowered. “Because your bloodline was never created to rule.” The warriors exchanged confused glances. “It was created to protect.”

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

Because I wasn’t sure. We performed the final rite that night. The Blood Pact. A vow older than kingdoms. Forbidden by the stars. Damned by every god that still drew breath. I mixed her blood with Nicholas’s hair, stolen during one of my spies’ raids, bound in root and salt. “Blood for blood,” I chanted. “Shadow for flame. Desire undone.” Flames turned black. The mark on her chest, an inverted version of Azaria’s sacred sigil, flared, pulsed, and sealed.

“I do not remember you, but my blood does.” The shadow wolf’s head tilted, its immense form shifting as though the darkness that formed its body bent and groaned beneath its own weight, and when it spoke again the words rolled like thunder dragged across stone. “Your blood is mine, Fenric, carved from the first song, bound to me before the moon was ever taken, before the Cycle was ever sung, and though you have forgotten, I have not.”

Us older, more pure blood shifters are the opposite, getting stronger with age. Known to most as the elders, we were the last left of the purer bloods giving us enhanced strength and senses above other shifters. We were the first counsel members founded by Hector. There were five of us originally along with Astor, who faced his unfortunate death six years ago with Hector.

In a wolf of werewolves, Alphas, and Kings, weakness got you killed… “There’ll be nothing left of you when Rain Blood is done with you!” My blood ran cold! Rain Blood… A merciless bastard, who killed for sports. He was a rogue, at first no real threat. Then he started taking over smaller packs, meticulously growing his following bigger and bigger. My father – the King of the Werewolves – had set out his army to take out this threat… None had returned! Roughly and mercilessly my captors had cuffed my hands to the chains. I was now suspended from the ceiling, my toes barely reaching the stone floor beneath me.

Riana’s pulse quickened. Powerful, was the word that resonated with the legends of the Blood King. The ancient vampire, a figure of immense power who was said to have ruled the Crimson Zone with an iron fist, his thirst for blood insatiable, his cruelty legendary. He was a tyrant, a monster, a god in his own right. And now, his presence was being felt again, his power resurfacing, his vengeance awakening.

From the base of the cliffs, the earth tore open. A massive figure rose taller than trees, its skin carved from obsidian, veins glowing with molten runes. It had no eyes. No mouth. Just a jagged crest and the symbol of the First Pact carved into its chest. The Stoneblood. Born when the world was still cooling. Created to enforce balance when the gods failed. A weapon locked away after the first extinction. The Reclamation raised its hand in reverence. “The wolves were given the gift. You broke it. Now the gift is taken.”

"When were you going to tell me? After the second assassination attempt? The third? Or were you just going to let me keep thinking I married some spoiled mafia princess while she quietly cleaned up bodies in the background?" He met my eyes without flinching. "I was going to tell you when you were ready to hear it." "I had a right to know!" "You had a right to survive," he corrected. "Which is exactly what happened today. Catarina did her job. You're alive. The alliance is intact. I fail to see the problem." "The problem—" I had to stop, had to breathe before I said something I couldn't take back. "The problem is that you and Carmine Vitale decided it was acceptable to turn a child into a wea