Lord Blackwood Game Of Thrones Novels & Stories

Against the phantom warmth of his hand on my belly. Then she arrived. Victoria emerged from the shadows like death itself, her cloak a river of crimson that seemed to drink in the moonlight. Her power stained the air around her, thick and choking, making the very atmosphere taste of copper and ash. Her wolves flanked her massive beasts with eyes like burning coals and teeth that gleamed like ivory daggers. "Luna Blackwood," she cooed, her voice honey over broken glass. "How far the mighty have fallen." I didn't answer. My silence was a blade of its own, sharp and cutting.

They have been growing more and more over the years, recruiting new members. I have been meaning to call a meeting of the council of Lycan kings, which I was their leader. The council is made up twelve Lycan kings, representing the twelve wolf kingdoms. But with my protection pearl going missing and bringing of Vee into my pack, I have been pretty much occupied. Now Vico is sending his men into my lands, I had to nip this shit in the bud soon or I might have another war with half breeds on my hand. “Maybe they know she is a half breed,” that had to be why they wanted her.

It just wasn't the whole truth. She nodded, apparently satisfied, and returned to reviewing our presentation. I looked out the tinted car window. The closer we got, the harder my heart pounded. Seven years. I'd spent seven years convincing myself I was over Ethan Blackwood. Now, in less than ten minutes, I'd know whether that was true. The sleek glass tower came into view. Blackwood Enterprises. It looked exactly as I remembered. Elegant. Powerful. Untouchable. Just like the man who owned it.

His heavy, dark cloak billowed violently in the cold wind as he paused, slowly turning his head to look directly toward the west. Toward the distant territory of Blackthorn. Toward the unique boy whose inner wolf was named Leo. A dark, terrifying smile slowly crossed his pale lips, his eyes glinting with a cold malice in the crimson light. "So..." the rider whispered into the wind, his voice like grinding stones, "...the grand game finally begins." He aggressively urged his powerful steed forward into the dark night. And right behind him... the swirling shadows closely followed.

"I, Marcus Blackwood, Alpha of the Blackwood pack, confess to the following crimes: I made a bargain with the Lycan king. I gave him the bloodline of Kaelen in exchange for power over the shadow. I bound the shadow to the hybrid child, Ravenna, knowing she would one day wake it and become its vessel. I built the prison beneath the mountain to hold the king's enemies and feed them to the darkness. I killed Seraphine, my mate, when she tried to free the bloodline from my control. I watched Kaelen die and did nothing to save him. The king cannot be killed by steel or shadow. But he can be unmade. The weapon is not a sword or a dagger or a crown. It is a name. His true name. The one the first wo

Oliver muttered. Lyra’s chest tightened painfully. “They’re going to find me…” “No,” Oliver said, sharper now. She looked at him, startled. “Not if we find them first.” ⸻ Outside, the forest had come alive. Wolves moved like shadows between the trees—swift, silent, lethal. At the center of it all stood Alpha Damon Blackwood. Still. Unmoving. Watching. The scent lingered in the air now. Unfamiliar. Hostile. Deliberate.

Even unconscious and bleeding out, he radiated a raw, untamed power that made the very air in the room feel heavy and charged with static electricity. Scarlett’s breath hitched in her throat. This wasn't just any man. This was him. The memories of a life that wasn't hers slammed into her mind like a high-speed train, bringing with them a wave of physical nausea. She wasn't Scarlett the occultist anymore. She was now Scarlett Thorne, the pampered, arrogant villainess of the dark romance novel Crimson Moon. And the man currently dying in her bathtub? That was Caleb Blackwood, the legendary Lycan King of the North.