Gremory Bloodstained Novels & Stories

Grim muttered. Emily scoffed and curled her arms over her chest. She chose to not open her mouth again. Grim was a man hard to talk things out. “Drink my blood and your father will live again.” He disappeared out of her sight and reappeared in front of her. Grim elevated his hand to his face and bit down on his wrist. Blood trickled out of his skin and he brought his arm low then let it near her face. Convinced, Emily grasped on his forearm and sucked the blood out of his wrist. She sucked every blood she can consume and slowly, her vision dimmed. Her heart raced and pounded hard against her chest and her body fell limp on the ground.

The blinding light that causes a hammering headache, the loss of mobility, the darkness, the pain, he could take it but her… He felt something warm dripping. Reaching his nose with a shaky hand, he realised it was blood. He finally remembered that he wasn't alone and his eyes searched his Beta and there he was, not far from him, sitting on a floor with blood flowing from his ear, nose and mouth. Two lines of dried bloody streaks of tears ran down his cheeks disappearing somewhere in his stubble. “Gri…gor” Lewis managed to speak but coughed even more blood. Grigor seemed lost. He was too stunned to speak, too tired to react. His tattered clothes from their friendly fight paled against his new

She tore free with a furious roar that shook the air. Around us the battle raged without mercy. Gavin fought like a demon. His sword flashed as he cut down robed figures one after another. Blood sprayed across his face and armor. Damien had shifted into his wolf form. He tore through enemies in a whirlwind of fury and blood. His growls mixed with the cries of the dying. Explosions lit up the night sky in bursts of orange and red. Buildings burned. Wolves howled in pain and defiance. The air smelled thick with smoke, blood, and burning magic.

Blood sprayed across the dirt. Dust and stone flew as they rolled, each clash like a storm striking earth. Gregor fought with raw brutality, unrelenting. Liam fought with cunning, using every gap, dodging, striking back with precision. At one moment Gregor locked his claws around Liam’s neck, forcing him down. The crowd shrieked, breathless. “Liam!” I cried, rising to my feet. But Liam surged, twisting, throwing Gregor beneath him. His fangs drove into Gregor’s flesh, blood pouring. Gregor bellowed, shoving him off, both wolves tumbling apart. They staggered upright, sides heaving, eyes blazing with hate.

I blew on the dust, opening the lunch box with a gentle click, I took out the Grimoire that sat within it. I let my fingers trail around my family crest symbol that was on the cover. It was a detail of three roses, all intersecting each other at the end. I tried to open the Grimoire but it was locked. My eyes fell on the writings below. 'The Book of countless shadows.' 'Blood is the key.' I understood and knew what I needed to do.

The sorcerers circled him, chanting in a dead language, candles flickering like frightened fireflies. Grey stood with a silver blade in his hand ... trembling. His once-polished calm had shattered. His eyes were red-rimmed, desperate, and there was something feral in them now. Scarlet stopped in her tracks. “Grey…” she whispered, but it came out broken. He looked up, voice hoarse. “You shouldn’t have come back, Scarlet.” The blade caught the candlelight ... pure silver, etched with blood runes. The kind forged only for ritual killings.

He had lived it, and he didn't even believe what had happened. He found some rags in the back of the shop and wiped the now normal-looking sword clean. Clean of blood. Clean of his fingerprints. He wasn't sure when the blue glow had disappeared. He had been too intent on the skies and the chance of those gargoyles finding him. Once the sword was clean, he stripped down to his boxers and scrubbed hard at the blood that stained his skin. It had dried in the time it took him to get to the florist shop and refused to come completely off no matter how raw he scrubbed. He dropped his stained clothes into the can of cut stems and broken petals and tied it closed. He found the clean clothes and quic

However, most clans are too traditional to marry off their daughters to strangers. Raven, thankfully, would never do that. Bloodlust is coursing through my veins as I aim my weapon towards three guards standing at the back of the building. My body stiffens, yet my muscles remain relaxed and still, almost like I'm asleep but with my eyes open. My sole boundary is the hazy sky. There is no breeze, no outside noise. Chaos is all that is necessary. I fire, striking the first guard square in the forehead. It's too late when the other two turns to face him while their weapons. I knocked one in the hollow of his neck and the other in the heart.

The drive back to the penthouse was a tense, silent autopsy of their situation. Dante’s fingers were a white-knuckled cage around the steering wheel. The black rose on his screen was a ghost in the van with them. Inside his fortress, the violation was evident. He went straight to the guest room, Elena trailing behind. The rose was exactly as pictured, a perfect, velvet-black bloom with thorns like needles, lying on the white linen like a drop of ink on snow. A small, ornate card was tucked beneath the stem.

I yanked the bag downward with all my strength, then drove my knee up, slamming it straight into his stomach. A dull grunt escaped him as his body staggered backward. He collapsed against the stair railing, his face turning pale in an instant. Brian recovered and rushed at me again. I did not give him the chance. I bent down fast and grabbed the metal cash box my dad had thrown aside earlier. Bang! The edge of the box smashed down onto Brian's foot. "Argh! My foot!" He clutched it, rolling on the ground in pain. I did not stop. I grabbed my backpack and sprinted down the stairs.