Greek Vampire Novels & Stories

Hera waking from a nightmare A tall dark muscular male figure stood before me and I could see the red eyes of a very ancient vampire. He brushed my bangs back before presenting me with a tiny black root and told me to carry it within myself until it was ready to sprout. I said whatever creepy old dude.

Hmm, I was starting to like Daniel. "So, our first lesson is all about our origins," I looked at him and listened carefully to every word he said while taking notes in the small notebook he had given me earlier. "Werewolves or lycanthropes in Ancient Greek were made by the Goddess of the Moon, Selene. They were a group of people who could shape-shift into wolves." All I had thought was that werewolves were just a fragment of imagination, but they were real, especially now that I was living among them.

I pleaded, and he nodded his head gently in understanding. “You are not out of mind. Moreover, you are very right child, my boys are different. Have you ever heard of the word lycanthrope?” he asked, looking at me expectantly and I shook my head, motioning that the word means nothing to me. “it’s a Greek mythical creature most commonly know in modern times as the werewolf” he explained with all determination and if he didn’t have a façade of all seriousness on his face, I would assume he was mocking me.

Unlike the maid who was on the verge of collapsing, he looked like he never fucked. His face was now visible to her eye. Another Greek God but with a shitty personality. He was as buffer as Ragnar, maybe a little more buffer than Ragnar. He had dark black hair due to which his pale skin stood out even more. His eyes...his orbs were golden. Something very unnatural Sasha has ever seen. Ragnar also had that golden swirl in his eyes but for a little while but his orbs...that golden swirl in them was permanent. He was a vampire too. He had a cut on his right eyebrow which never reached below his eye. He had thick black eyebrows which were sharp from the edges. His jaw was so sharp, it almost loo

Observing from the corner of my eye, I found the blond man’s eyes fall on Selene and John. “She’s beautiful, no?” I said, feigning distraction. “She doesn’t age…” He trailed off absently, and I glanced over to see his narrowed eyes fixated on her. “That’s kind of suspicious. Do Greeks have vampires in their mythology?” What even… I pondered in confusion, Good grief he’s probably an airhead…like Aubrey! “W-what? No, I’m not aware of any.” “But I know of Dracula’s existence.” “That’s Romanian history,” I muttered with a sip to calm myself because I could feel the judgment coming on.

A small part of my brain is screaming out at me about the danger of exposing the vein in my throat to a vampire, but the hussy side of me is enjoying the feel of his lips against my flesh too much to care what happens next. His tongue darts out of his mouth, licking along the base of my throat until it reaches the throbbing vein that lies beneath. His lips latch onto this spot and begin to suck, increasing my arousal and sending my hips in more hurried movements. He murmurs something against my throat in a language that I don’t understand, the words ‘glykiá mou’ catching my attention once again. I don’t know what it is about the way that he says those two simple words, but it comes out in su

Ancient paintings, mostly painted by famous artists, were hung in strategic places, and in the corner of the room stood a large sculpture of Lycaon, the King of Arcadia and the father of werewolves - at least as far as Greek Mythology went. “Do we have to greet him now?” I asked, my stomach tightening with nervousness once again. “We can’t put it off. I can’t risk giving Viktor any extra ammunition against me,” Vasilios replied solemnly. “Arg, your father is probably going to rip my head off for disappearing in the first place,” I sighed and Vasilios put his arm around my shoulder comfortingly. The sound of footsteps echoed through the hall and we looked toward the stairs to see the Alpha an

“Adrian… tell me.” He swallowed hard. Night clung to him like a second skin—Jenna’s death, Jason’s pursuit, the ritual still boiling in his veins. But none of that weighed on him the way Emily’s gaze did. She looked at him with fear and courage tangled together, a look that told him she was willing to hear everything, even if it broke her. Adrian exhaled, long and shaky. “Jason,” he began quietly, “isn’t just another vampire. He’s a pureblood. One of the oldest. One of the strongest. One who sees humans as ingredients, not people.”

Even without carefully studying them, I could tell how ancient they were. He brought him strong veiny hands to my cheeks, cupped them and raised them up to look at him. I gasped when I saw him. I was mesmerized. I kept staring at the Greek God in front of me, not certain of what to say or how to act. He had golden eyes_ eyes I couldn’t take my eye off. His face had to be sculpted personally by a God because there was no way someone could look as striking as he did. It was easy to point out he was a vampire due to his pale skin.

face is normally an olive color with a natural light blush color on her cheeks. Helena has the same facial features as the Native American Tribe, Cherokee. There are not any Native American bloodline in any of the vampires. The vampire's bloodline is not of any normal bloodlines of us mortals. The vampires have their own bloodline. No one really knows what the bloodline is called for the vampires. Same with the werewolves. No one has not a clue the name or nationality is for neither of the families, vampires and werewolves. A near smile spread across Brixton's face as he watched as Dronnicka was killing Raul. Helena ran over to Brixton with panic in her voice she pleaded with him to reconsi