Profane Soul Blood Hunter Novels & Stories

*** Abraham Van Helsing, the Dutch vampire hunter, had once had an apprentice whom he admired and held in high regard, long before he even considered the holy order as a potential calling. Helsing betrayed his apprentice and thought he had disposed of him. However, the tales surrounding this event were shrouded in insufficient recounting and relied solely on rumors. Higgins, renowned for his extraordinary ability to communicate with the dead, was known as the Necromancer Hunter. His expertise lay in influencing the living through the use of the deceased as conduits. His discarded body had washed up on the shores of a massive island housing several packs of werewolves, one of which belonged t

“I think I owe you a debt, little hunter. A life for a life.” “As do I.” From the shadows stepped Salvor, chin dripping with blood. He wiped it away with a calloused, blasé hand, grinning wickedly at me all the while. “You took something of mine. I’d like it back.” The stake crumbled to dust between my fingers. I stared down at it, my heart falling through empty air towards a ravenous sea. I curled my hand into a fist. I would go down fighting. I would not take this – I would not –

This is a trap. Grrrrr... A low growl sounded from all directions. Dozens of pairs of glowing red eyes emerged from the darkness, surrounding them. Grave Hounds. Revira backed away slowly, hugging Ardan tightly. "Don’t be afraid, son." The largest Grave Hound stepped forward. It sniffed the air, its eyes fixed on Ardan. The faint scent of Moon Blood was highly tempting to it. "Go away!" Revira yelled. The Grave Hound leader roared, then leaped to attack.

He clawed at nothing, gasping. Gasps echoed across the stadium. But I didn't stop. How dare he? The bloodlust had been building inside me since I stepped into this cursed pack, and now it burst its dam. My vision swam red as I pushed deeper into his mind, breaching defenses I hadn't even known I could break. I saw them—souls screaming, faces twisted in agony, lives he had taken without remorse. Blood, fire, shadows. He was a killer, a devourer.

I pushed myself off the door frame and took a step toward him. "So, is this what you do to your victims?” I pressed. “You put them under your control and then kill them? Well, Darick, you can shove that stupid blood oath up your ass and go to hell! You are barbaric.” This clearly made him angry. Good. He deserved to feel half of what I was. "You don't know what you're talking about. You know nothing about me," he growled. "I know you are the leader of the Blood Brother's mafia, a gang of vampires, and I now understand why you're called Darick the Bloodthirsty," I replied, pointing to the bite mark on my neck.

Finally, with one last desperate attempt to break free, the brute collapsed, lifeless. Hunter stepped off the brute’s back, his breathing heavy but controlled. He kicked the body aside, sending it sprawling to the ground. Then, he turned his gaze to Giovanni’s group. For a moment, Giovanni froze, his smirk fading as he caught sight of Hunter’s face. His eyes had changed—now glowing with a striking golden hue, tinged with emerald, burning with fury. Despite the punishment he had endured earlier, Hunter stood tall, his presence commanding and unbroken.

His mind was blank for a second. Later on, he found himself licking her blood and slowly biting between the neck and the shoulder of the hunter. Little by little his teeth are pressing on her skin. But before he completely bite her, he was back to his sense. He was stunned for a few seconds. His hand starts trembling while looking at his face of Accalia. He wanted more, he wanted to bite her, and he wanted to mark the hunter. But when he remember the face of her mother, he feel guilty about what he was doing. Instead of biting the hunter, he bites his arm until fresh blood flows in it.

My wolf groaned, urging me to go to our mate. Dad cautiously approached the door, and froze there for a moment. "Dad?" What is he sensing?" I took a step forward just as my dad swung open the door, and that's when I smelt it. Blood. My mate's blood. Hunter stepped into the house, his blood dripping as he walked. I wasted no time and rushed over to him. Just before he looked like he was going to drop dead on the floor, I caught him right on time. "Who did this to you?" My voice was filled with contempt. My wolf growled, I did not stop her.

I don't know how I am looking but with the horrid expressions on Alex and Joanna’s I may be looking like a fool and shit. “ E…E…Ezra, H..He…Is W…with…M..Mitchell.” I don't know how I uttered these words as my eyes are closing on their Accord and all I can see is blackness and their voices are absurd. I welcomed the darkness which was calling me and I happily welcomed it and kept falling and falling till I felt peace. “ Ezra Irwin is not only an addiction but also a parasite who will kill you even after you are dead and I hope I have met my death.”

asked Leora later. Eleanor then began to tell the history of their family who inherited the holy blood for generations. This sacred blood is the blood indispensable to the vampire family. They need this holy blood for the survival of their offspring. There aren't many vampire families left, but they definitely exist and are always looking for Leora's whereabouts. Because only a handful of people still have this sacred bloodline. Although it is heavy and difficult to understand, but Leora tries to understand what her grandmother is telling her. She nodded and listened to what Eleanor said.