Princes Of The Blood Novelas e Histórias

After being forced to donate my blood to Zachary Doolithe, my wife Anna Lang's childhood sweetheart, I died in the small quarters that she had personally decorated for me. Before I died, my five-year-old son ran to the main quarters and begged Anna three times. The first time, he broke in and said that I was vomiting blood. Anna scoffed. "I see he's improved his ways. He's even taught our son to lie." Then she ordered the servants to take my son out. The second time, he knocked on the door and said that I was already beginning to convulse in pain. Anna tutted. "I only asked for a little blood, didn't I? It's not like I cut out his heart. Why is he pretending?” The servant stepped forw

When our eyes meet, I didn't recognize his. "Prince Dash, the first Prince you are looking for," his small voice rang as if it has been screamed right to my ears. I can't believe it. I swallowed hard and averted my eyes away from his before nodding. I get it. Royalties should stay strong so their kingdom will not be conquered by the others and enemies will never have a chance to win against them. "You'll give me your blood. I don't wanna bite you..." he murmured a few words. "But I need your blood. Do you have an idea how I can drink your blood without biting you?"

Matteo Romano. He rose from the shadowed corner, towering, broad-shouldered, his black suit tailored with the precision of a king in exile. His face was carved in lines of command: sharp jaw, straight nose, lips that could give orders like death sentences. But it was his eyes that froze the blood in her veins. obsidian, fathomless and unreadable. Il Re di Ferro. The Blood King. Whispers rippled through the hall like wind through dry leaves. No one expected him here. No one dared to speak his name too loudly.

I press my hand against my forehead, beginning to pace, even with my knee protesting as it does. When I look back at the Prince, he’s watching me with a calm expression, although his eyes suggest otherwise. They are ablaze with unreadable emotion, his full lips settled in a line. "My name is Hale,” he murmurs. He doesn’t offer his hand, and he doesn’t need to, because there is no way I would dare touch a pureblood. Even if his skin does look perfectly unflawed and temptingly…I shake my head. What am I thinking?

"Step away from him." The prince smoothly stepped in front of me, placing himself like a shield between the monster and me. He raised his hand, blue-tinted magic dancing across his fingertips like crackling lightning. "She doesn't belong to you, brother," the prince mocked, his voice dripping with cool arrogance. "She never did. You bought a ghost at an auction, thinking you could trap her and rewrite history. But some bloodlines refuse to burn." "I will tear you apart piece by piece," the alpha roared, lunging forward with terrifying speed, his massive claws extended to strike.

" “Wait… what did you say the seventh prince being the tribrid?” “Yes princess your husband is a demon tribrid, he has blood of a vampire, werewolf and a witch with demon blood too. He has a blood of a Drektus that is why the Drektus queen wanted his blood as a key opponent in freeing herself. The second one is the phoenix witches blood not just any phoenix witch but royal one. The previous alpha didn’t manage to kill the seventh prince and that why the queen killed him and went to manipulate the crown prince who already hated your husband.”

"Few know of the blood curse that has plagued the princes for nearly twenty years." Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Dante shot me a panicked look. "A curse that would have claimed their immortal lives," she said, voice breaking with theatrical emotion. "If not for a miracle. If not for the return of the lost prince." The room erupted in confused whispers. I scanned the crowd for Raven, needing to see her reaction, but couldn't spot her crimson dress among the sea of faces.

He said with a small smile and a little smirk covering his face. “No! If you want, you can call him anything by yourself, but his name will not be Ivaan.” I said in a stern tone. “When will your hormones come in check? You would have accepted anything I said if it was before.” He said sighing. “So, the prince of Ivaan is unable to bear the wife who is not accepting his every word?” I asked smiling at him. “I am not the Prince of Ivaan anymore, darling wife. The prince is in your arms, and the Princess of Ivaan is Aahna. Someone else will be added when Mridula will give birth to a boy or girl within a month maybe.” He replied shrugging.

“You slapped a prince, damn it!” I froze. My brain froze. Everything in me froze so hard I swear my soul stepped out of my body for a second to go sit on a bench somewhere. I knew he was powerful based on last night but I didn’t know he was royalty. “A… prince?” My voice cracked like a dying radio. “Yes!” she said. “A prince! The prince! The heir of the strongest werewolf lineage in this entire region. The future king of wolves. The golden bloodline. The—”

The Crown Prince's detailed report had me hooked for a while, though. He was a hotblooded prince. But Prince? it even hurt my conscience to call him that. To think that the quality of purebloods had degraded to that level, it was more than just an insult. The real definition was that a prince was someone composed, all- rounded. Someone who could fight, not just with swords, guns, and fangs, but with their brains too. Someone who could strategise, plan, and subdue an enemy kingdom without needing to be physically there.