Heir Of Blood Novels & Stories

Bienley smiled at their sons and stared at Justin. "Can you imagine that Justin? You can have a child with Cullen and Dalton's blood...yours and Zack's blood. The dream I wanted to have is given to you. You will carry Zack's child inside your body...that child will grow inside you until you can bring him/her out of the world. You will watch Zack's child grow and you will hear and feel the heartbeat that would eternally bind you and Zack for a lifetime" Bienley continued to explain.

“Bloodline?” “You think your power is unique,” the Heir said, rising with fluid grace. “But it’s inherited. The city itself has been waiting, channeling it through those like you. Strong enough to resist… but not yet to dominate.” Her heart pounded. “Then I’ll dominate if I have to.” Kellen glanced at her, worry flashing in his eyes. “Careful. That’s exactly the kind of arrogance that gets you killed.” “I’m not arrogant,” she said. “I’m awake.”

“Crane knows who you really are, Julian. He’s known for weeks. He’s just been waiting… watching… to see who else figures it out.” Julian’s stomach tightened. Aiden stared at him. “You mean…” Oliver nodded. “Yes. He knows you’re the heir.” Clarissa stepped forward, and said in a hard voice. “Then why hasn’t he done anything?” “Because,” Oliver said slowly, “he’s not the type to eliminate the heir. He’s the type to use him.” Julian’s breath caught. “He wants to control you, Julian. Put you in Harold’s place, clean up the mess, and make it look like VanDermere Global is being saved from within. You’ll be his puppet, his perfect distraction while he tightens his grip on the company.”

Her reflection in the window looked unrecognizable: soot‑stained, hair pinned back in functional defiance, eyes that hadn’t truly slept. “Welcome home,” Adrian said from across the aisle. “If home still applies.” She exhaled through half a smile. “Home is just geography before the first headline hits.” Luca powered up his portable rig, still drowsy from the sedatives but alert when screens cascaded awake. “Public feeds already spinning,” he said. “They’re calling you ‘the crowning heir returning with ashes.’ Poetic nonsense.” “Poetic is deadly before breakfast,” Adrian muttered, scanning the perimeter.

Her heart pounded wildly; crimson veins burned beneath her skin. A deep, familiar voice echoed in her mind: Lucien. “Do not fear, Evelyn… I never left.” “Lucien…?” She gasped, looking around, seeing only the blood moon shining through broken stained glass. “It’s my blood inside you,” the voice continued, “both curse and final bond. You carry half my soul, Evelyn… You are the heir to the Blood King.” “No… I don’t want this!” she screamed, tears spilling. “I just want you back!”

"Because I have watched this bloodline die for four hundred years, Ophilia. Slaughtered, one family at a time — until a single couple went into hiding. Eighteen years ago, even they were found." "Wait — does that mean—" "Yes," she cut in, quiet and certain. "Those were your parents." The truth landed like a detonation in my chest. I wasn't only an Omega, unwanted and disposable — I was an orphan, and had been from the very beginning. Grief threatened to pull me under — until the rest of what she'd said finally registered. Four hundred years. "You've been alive for four hundred years?" I breathed. A slow, knowing smile spread across her face. "Isn't it obvious? I'm a witch."

I have always been a stickler for the rules. In elementary school, our class holds an election for class president. The teacher ignores the vote and appoints the principal's son instead. I follow the school's rule that whoever receives the majority vote should win, gather all 42 students, and take the election straight to the principal's office to redo the vote. When I grow up and start working, my boss hands me a thousand-dollar expense receipt and orders me to file a ten-thousand-dollar reimbursement claim. I refuse, as it violates company policy. The manager laughs. "Here, whatever the boss says goes. Learn to bend when you can, or the company may decide it needs someone more obedien

“Or perhaps… a warden, and afterwards she refined them.” A chill moved down my spine. “Refined from what?” I asked quietly. Cian’s gaze flicked to the window, where pale daylight filtered through. “Something older. Wilder. Unstructured.” My heart beat harder, “The Lost Bloodline.” His silence was enough confirmation. “In the fragments that survived,” he continued carefully, “there are references to cycles, to an age before the Moon’s dominion, when power was not centralized.” “Centralized?” I echoed.

“But how did they know where I was?” Adrian’s gaze narrowed. “Because the spine is connected to you.” My breath caught. I stared at him. “What?” Adrian’s voice was quiet. “Your father built the spine to respond to his bloodline.” I swallowed hard. “My bloodline?” Adrian’s gaze held mine. “You’re the heir.” I felt the room tilt. My mind went numb. “No,” I whispered. “I’m not.” Adrian’s expression softened. “You are.”

The sound was something that sounded like yes. I kept reading. The prophecy states that the last heir of the Lunae line, if the line survives, will carry the full weight of the original covenant. The Blood-Call will manifest. The bond will form with multiple - the number is not fixed, but the bond will be real, will be binding, and will be the most powerful pairing this kingdom has seen in three generations. The heir will be drawn to strength. Strength will be drawn to her in return. This cannot be forced. It either is or it isn't.