Nora Roberts Of Blood And Bone Novels & Stories

And for a second, my mind refuses to process it—refuses to understand how that just happened—until I look up. Nora stands there, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. Her chest rises and falls sharply, her eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them, almost black, with something feral flickering beneath the surface. For the briefest moment, the air around her seems to shift. Strange dark veins spread beneath her skin, disappearing almost as quickly as they appear, while shadows coil around her fingers like living things before she clenches her hands into fists and forces them away.

It was ash in your lungs, smoke, and the smell of rotting magic. I stood on the edge of the ruined atrium with my hand pressed against my side, where blood stained the fabric of my coat. I scanned the bodies haphazardly heaped on the floor and on the backs of others, and those few who stood, barely. Nora hadn’t moved. She was crouched next to Elias, blade in hand and blood on her temple, eyes straight ahead and unblinking like she was daring someone to come after him again.

Dante said coming out of the trees. Nora heard her name and turned to see Dante. She looked relieved seeing him but then Rose’s wolf lunged at her. The world slowed down as Rose’s wolf went for Nora’s throat. She decided that a dead Nora was better than taking her back. Nora threw her arm up in time, Rose’s Wolf teeth clamped down on her forearm. A loud snap was heard as Nora’s bones broke underneath the power of the wolf’’s jaw. “Nora!” Dante screamed as he watched the wolf latched on to Nora’s arm and broke it.

I pulled two punches towards her face, knocking three of her teeth out and the next time I moved my legs a sharp pain resonated and I crashed to the floor. "What the hell-" I turned to find a white wolf, teeth deep into my legs. I recognized those eyes. Who wouldn't? They belonged to my boyfriend. The white night of Grimsborrow. Theodore Roosely. Seeing Theo here I knew in my heart he wasn't under any spell and he wasn't here to save me. My mother took this opportunity to strike me hard across the face. Everything went dark. When I came too, it felt like a ton of bricks had hit me.

My teeth find its throat, and I bite down, the metallic taste of blood flooding my mouth. The second wolf lunges at me, but I’m ready. I dodge its attack, my claws raking across its side. It yelps, stumbling back, but I don’t give it a chance to recover. I slam into it, my jaws tearing into its neck until it goes limp beneath me. Panting, I turn to Nora. She’s still breathing, but barely. Blood pools beneath her, staining the earth. Her hand twitches, a weak sign of life that sends a jolt of desperation through me.

For the first time since the arena caved, we had a sliver of silence. I leaned against the rough wall, chest heaving. Blood slicked my ribs where dragonsteel had kissed too deeply. The wound hissed, angry and slow to clot, and my wolf clawed at me to keep moving. But then Nora was there, her small hands firm and certain as she pressed cloth to my side. “Hold still,” she muttered, curls falling into her face. Her fingers trembled, not with fear, but with exhaustion. She was bleeding power as badly as I was bleeding flesh.

Setting: The Bone Orchard --- The field stretched endlessly under a starless sky, its earth cracked and pale as old scars. White trees clawed upward in jagged silhouettes, their bark not wood but bone—calcified remnants of the First Brood who defied Vaelros Seraxa. Each tree leaned as if in pain, branches frozen mid-scream, their roots burrowed deep into the soil where ancient blood still seeped. No Elder dared walk here, for the Orchard remembered betrayal. It remembered the Crown That Bleeds.

But around the edges of the kill box, the living were waiting. Our pack—Jax’s pack—held the high ground and the perimeter. I saw Elara perched on a fallen log, cleaning a knife, though her eyes never left the group of prisoners huddled against the sheer rock wall. Ronan stood knee-deep in the mud, a massive, scarred sentinel, holding a heavy wooden club loosely in one hand.

He saw Julian and was on his feet in a second, his body positioned between the door and my bed. “Julian,” Toby said, his voice a low warning. “You’re back.” “I’m back,” Julian said, with a raspy voice. He looked at me, ignoring Toby’s defensive posture. “Lisa. We need to talk. All of us.” Julian didn’t sit. He stood by the window, the grey Seattle light catching the bruises on his neck. He told us about the House of Bone. He told us about the vault, the concrete stairs, and the smell of twenty-year-old rot.

“Right there. In the open. Where everyone can see what happens when you cross me.” The phone buzzes again on the desk, another update coming in, and my pulse jumps. I grin. “Move everyone,” I say. “Tonight.” “Rules,” Lena asks. “There are none,” I say. “Only the hunt.” I picture Eli Blackwood boxed in by noise and lights and fragile lives, and my hands curl into fists. “I am not a coward,” I say softly. “And I do not care who dies learning that.”