Most Precious Blood Chula Vista Novels & Stories

Valerius’s laboratory was a blasphemous cathedral of science and sorcery. In the center of the room, a massive, intricate array was drawn on the floor in fresh cinnabar ink, surrounding a slab of black obsidian where Caleb now lay. Above him, suspended by brass chains, hung hundreds of glass vials containing the glowing, crimson essence of the Beta Strain—Valerius’s own blood, distilled over three millennia.

And yet, somehow, I was given the hardest task of all. Picking up the tray, which was heavier than all the rest since it was full of pitcher of heavy blood, I made for the door. The Pack clinic always kept a well-stocked blood bank, both in case a wolf needed a transfusion and for whenever important Vampires come calling. Since Werewolves heal so quickly, it doesn't take much to restock it with donations. I helped Rosie a few times doing blood drives during the long years of the war.

Robert walked through the back corridor of the mansion with calm steps. However, his brows slowly furrowed. He was looking for Rossa. Usually, the woman would always be in the back garden around this hour. Pulling weeds, trimming flowers, or quietly watering Melly’s plants without saying much. But this time— Rossa was nowhere to be seen. Robert’s gaze slowly swept across the surroundings. Until finally, his eyes caught something on the marble floor of the corridor. Blood.

He was fairly certain one of them was a vial of elixir. Vulcan blood, he remembered with distaste. His gaze glided over the room a while longer before settling on the only thing he found conspicuous. She sat before the entrance. Her habit was a pale blue cascading down to rest gently below her ankle. She was clearly unaware of his state of consciousness which, if he was correct, was the reason she sat alone with him. The last time Sethlzaar had seen a sister of the church was during his spiritual service. Save that, the only other time was during his ordination where the priestesses had flanked the Arch-bishop on both sides. He frowned at his inability to recall the Arch-bishop's name.

“His core requires a total blood exchange. Our enforcers cannot locate a matching lineage source across the quadrants, so the healers are paralyzed. If his veins do not receive the transfer before the third sun, the frost will take his breath permanently. This is a crisis that cannot be resolved with Silvercrest gold, nor can your mother’s surgical skills bypass the lack of blood. That is why you and Layla must remain resilient. The survival of your lines is the only reason your mother has left to keep his wolf from entering the dark wastes.” Down in the main hall of the villa, the moment Patricia’s steel blades severed the bindings of the crate, a polished black stone monument emerged from

She stepped out into the penthouse, Maya’s pod floating beside her in a tether of violet light. The penthouse was a cathedral of glass and ego. It spanned the entire top floor, offering a 360-degree view of the Johannesburg lights, which looked like a sea of fallen stars. In the centre of the room stood the Crystalline Pillar—a massive, glowing conduit that ran from the floor to the ceiling, pulsing with the concentrated energy of the entire city. And standing in front of it was Silas. He didn’t look surprised. He was holding a glass of amber liquid, watching the storm outside the windows.

I had never seen any medic so excited when collecting blood. Doctor Duarte surely couldn't control his constantly increasing enthusiasm while watching the drops of my blood fall into another test tube. At that moment, I already knew he was insane, but his insanity was also his charm. Certainly, he kept sniffing the drops of my life essence as if they were the world's greatest perfume, but my instincts were telling me that his scientific excitement was even greater.

It might be a substance of great age and scarcity, but even a drop of it could carry immense value. Chu Xun immediately produced a little jade flask and stored the Suan Ni True Blood inside. The Tenth Presbyter stared with his sclera utterly red with anguish. The Suan Ni fang had been one of the greatest heirlooms of the Winged race and it had long been his possession which he had used sparingly as a Sacred Relic, without knowing that inside the fang was the True Blood of a Suan Ni. That made the drop of True Blood a treasured substance of great power and indispensable importance.

he called them. Temperature-controlled vaults that preserve human blood for months without clotting or losing potency. Engineered additives to enhance flavor or nutrition for their kind. It's lucrative. Exclusive contracts with high-profile Sanguinari who prefer discretion over hunting. No mess. No risk. Just a premium service for the undead elite. I should be proud. The work saves lives, human and otherwise. But it's all built on the same rotten foundation, our family's debt. Our curse. My thoughts drift to Rosalinda. My little Rosebud. I called her that when she was born, tiny, perfect, with those wide eyes that seemed to see everything. I was only eight, thrilled to have a sister.

He was that desperate. Bianca sliced her hand, letting her blood drip into the chalice, where Lukas would also spill his own blood. He took the ceremonial pearl knife, with it’s sapphire inlaid handle, and carefully cut into his palm, and squeezed his hand closed. His blood swirled down his wrist and oozed into the chalice in a slow flow that faded into several soft drips. I could sense our team collectively holding their breath as Bianca lifted the cup to drink their combined blood, the last part of the ceremony before they would be required to mark each other.