Jesse Blackthorn Novels & Stories

"Jesse, what's been bothering you? I can see it in your eyes. Please, tell us." Jesse sighed, his gaze fixed on the dancing flames. "There are things you all need to know," he began, his voice heavy with emotion. "Secrets that have haunted me for centuries." We leaned in, our curiosity piqued. Jesse took a deep breath, steeling himself for the revelations that were about to come. "I am not just a vampire," he confessed. "I am a descendant of an ancient bloodline, one that holds immense power and a dark legacy." Gasps filled the air as we absorbed his words.

Smoke billowed through the opening, and we ducked behind what little cover the cramped room offered: Hail behind a stone pillar, Lena beside an overturned table, me crouched behind a massive iron chest. Six figures pushed through the smoke, weapons raised. They wore mismatched armor cobbled together from scavenged materials, but their movements were disciplined. At their center stood Kade Blackthorn, looking like he'd walked straight out of the apocalypse and decided to become its poster boy. He wore a hood pulled low, but I could still see the calculating gleam in his eyes as they swept the room. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, and his mouth curved into that peculiar, cold smi

But I lost him because I was too proud to respect that he didn’t want to be a ruthless killer. But I’m done. For once, I will protect my son instead of just protecting myself. I, Nicholas Black, Gamma of the Midnight pack, hereby challenge you, Alpha Richard Harvey of the Midnight pack, for the Alpha title.”

"Do you want me to stay?" Idris Blackthorne’s voice rumbles like low thunder, his fingers tightening against my jaw as his heavy frame presses me into the narrow mattress of the Bloodmoon Healing Center. His amber eyes burn with pure, terrifying territorial possessiveness, locking onto mine like a predator pinning its prey.

“You think this is over? You’ve only broken the lock. The thing beneath the Black Moon stirs, child. And it remembers your name.” Kaelira’s blood ran cold. “No,” she whispered. “The Echo was the last of it. I destroyed it.” “You destroyed its shell,” Varyn said. “But its heart — the true Black Moon — was never in this world to begin with. It’s waiting. And it’s calling you home.” Zevran stepped forward. “Then we’ll burn your god a second time.” Varyn’s expression softened, almost pitying. “You can’t fight the storm, boy. You can only drown in it.”

I said before my mother could even step into the room. I sat up, yanking the sheets back. My heart was a frantic bird against my ribs. “The Dead Zones are behind them. He should have signal by now, Mom. Why hasn’t he called?” Cassian Blackthorne. Alpha heir of Thorneveil pack. My mate. He’d been absent for six months, reachable only as a blinking dot on a map. My mother leaned against the doorframe, her face pale. She didn’t ask who I was tracking or why I hadn’t slept. When Thorneveil stirred, worry always reached us before answers did.

Asher’s eyes glittered, cruel and delighted. “I traced the ring. Not fully, because whoever made that pretty little death leash had enough brains to hide behind old vow-smith routes, dead witches and three layers of human mafia filth, but guess what name kept bleeding through the cracks?” My heartbeat quickened. Jasper. It had to be Jasper. Asher smiled wider as if he could hear the thought. “Jasper Blackthorne.” Dax’s jaw tightened. Asher’s smile turned almost beautiful in the worst way.

"Don't call the cops... please. We're the ones in the wrong here anyway. I'm fine. Lizzie is your only blood; don't burn the last bridge between you." Mrs. Crees rose to her feet with difficulty, spitting a mouthful of bloody saliva in disgust. "Thomasina, spare me your sickening performance." She locked her glare onto Edwin. "The only reason Blackthorn ranks among the Great Eight is because of my family's backing. I can secure your seat as Alpha, and I can take it away. You want to end the mate bond? Fine. But I'm taking half of Blackthorn's capital and half of the properties with me!"

He had been longing to kill the people who had massacred their family. Dylan wasn’t just good in business and politics—he was also excellent at digging into old cases. They had been working on this for nearly two years, yet their efforts had remained fruitless. Until today. “What did you find?” he asked, his expression darkening. “I found a similar initial to the one you gave me before. The man who bore it was once a skilled assassin and the founder of the Blackthorn Syndicate. He also raised Victor Hensley,” Dylan revealed.

The twisted image of the skeletal corpse with its hollow sockets and its damned gold ring was already stuck Rosy's mind. She shoved him away, harder than she thought she could, her strength coming from the sudden anger she felt. “What is that?” she demanded, her voice sharp and breathless. She pointed one trembling finger at the carcass behind him. Sergio didn’t flinch. “You weren’t supposed to see this.” “But I did.” She pointed toward the skeleton again, voice rising. “Tell me who that is.” He sighed and crouched by the body, brushing dirt from the fabric clinging to the ribcage.