Iron Blooded Orphans Fanfiction Novels & Stories

Before blood soaks my chest and pools around me, hot liquid comes out of me. “Ethan! Despite the commotion, her piercing, terrified voice reaches me. In my hazy vision, an angelic visage darts back and forth over me. I point my finger at her cheek, but my arm stays still. "I anticipated that you would be my downfall, Princess." Then the world went completely black as my eyes rolled back in my head. Yet I smiled, thinking that the last thing that I saw was .... My wife.

It made me laugh, calling a werewolf is not a nice thing to imagine, it's funny to more than I can —You're my father's favorite. You knew, I know perfectly well, that if you gave him the chance to have a child besides Yin, you'd be his ideal. With the arrival of Irah new changes will arise and the relationship of el with Luana will be tested in many ways, but unfortunately having faced Roxen marks for Irah and everyone who follows two equally strong words life and death.

They rolled him around until he sat on the floor, his whole body trembling from head to foot. The man—if he could be called that—was filthy, his clothes shredded and caked in dirt. His skin was too pale, almost translucent in the evening glow, and veins spiderwebbed sickly beneath it. His pupils were blown wide, giving him a feral, half-crazed look. I sniffed again and sure enough, I could sense the human... but there was something else. Something twisted and rotten like death and dark magic. It made me even tenser. “What the hell is he?” muttered Jorah, one of the Gamma’s beside me.

He caught the little girl mid-air, sweeping her up into the massive, solid warmth of his chest, twisting his body to completely shield her eyes from the pooling blood on the white glass floor. The little orphan trembled violently, her tiny fingers automatically clawing into the thick, blood-slicked gray fur of Riheirk's shoulder armor. She buried her face deep into the crook of his neck, her chest heaving as she let out a piercing, heartbroken wail of pure, overwhelming relief and confusion.

The old wolf took Lillian's hand and looked at me, cold. "You're an orphanage rat. You aren't fit to lace Lillian's boots." "You want money, don't you? Thirty million. Take it and leave Theodore." "Think it through. When Crimson Flame loses this war, you'll be reduced to the lowest Omega." "Take the money. Take your pup. Live quietly." I blew gently on the surface of my tea and took an unhurried sip. She was very late to this. The Black Iron Pack would not swallow this insult. The only thing that would prevent war was handing over my body and my son's.

Orion. I swerved around and raised the book in my hand. “Orion?” I glanced at Owen, then at the book. “Like, the same Orion??” Peeling the front cover and a few after that, a vibrant picture Orion sat on it. I gasped and the book fell from my hand. Owen said nothing, but kept his gaze on me. Are you kidding me?! “I tore the lycan king with my claws?!” I shrieked with eyes wide open. “How- why… jeez..” having no ability to form words, I settled on just blinking. My blue eyes rested on the book on the floor showing his face.

"Eryx, the iron... it’s Unspooling!" I saw him falling. The Blood-Alpha’s obsidian-iron was being "Pulled" by the Weaver’s fingers, the violet-black metal turning back into the raw, un-formed stardust of the beginning. His crimson eyes were fading into the dull, functional brown of the boy who had never been chosen. "Darlene... I’m becoming... a legacy file..."

It was a silver iron, carved with intricate runes, glowing red-hot in a brazier. I laid myself on the cold stone slab, stripped off my shirt, and bared my back to the fire. "Begin." Just then, a massive cheer erupted from outside. "Alpha Silas! Luna Ravenna!" "Mate! Mate! Mate!" The pack was celebrating their union. Marcus picked up the iron brand. Its silver light flickered in the dark room. "I'm sorry, Ember." The searing hot iron pressed against my shoulder blade. White-hot agony exploded through me. I bit down hard, forcing myself not to scream. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"The magical backlash from the binding... it went into the ley lines. It went down." The iron door to the Dragon Keep—a massive vault sealed for three hundred years—began to glow red. The metal warped, melting like wax. A roar echoed from the depths. It was a sound that vibrated the marrow in their bones. ROOOOOAAAARRRR. The door exploded outward. A figure flew through the smoke, landing in a heap at Vespera’s feet. It was Oryn. In this world, he was an Orc—green-skinned, tusked, and wearing the leather apron of the Beast Keeper.

“And what future does a rogue Alpha offer?” “One where strength isn’t defined by fear,” I said. “Where wolves don’t bow because they’re broken, but because they believe.” Killian added, “She turned Damon’s own wolves without lifting a blade. That kind of loyalty isn’t bred through power. It’s earned through purpose.” Orric looked between us. His fingers drummed once against his knee. “You have fire,” he said. “But fire consumes as easily as it warms. If I bring the Ironbloods into this alliance, I risk everything. My people. My name. My blood.”