Novel & Cerita Profane Soul Blood Hunter

"Cheap. I would have priced you much higher." I looked down at the dark liquid in my glass. My life was over. The girl I was yesterday—the dutiful daughter, the waiting mate—was dead in that car wreck. "What do you want from me, Hunter?" He pushed off the mantel and closed the distance between us in two strides. He placed a hand on the back of the sofa, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. I could smell the musk of his arousal and the mint of his breath. "I want to ruin them," he said softly. "And I think you do too."

I’m a beast, mankind’s worst nightmare, and the nocturnal devourer. Abandoning my noble bloodline for centuries and maligning the prestigious name my father strove to build, I cast away the last shred of conscience and devolve into a maniacal degenerate driven to insanity for the unquenchable thirst for human blood. “You won’t go any further, you malevolent beast” As I stand on the threshold of the door, I halt with my gaze piercing through the storm of rain. I feel them down the struggle of their breaths. There seems to be a big group of Hunters hiding in the cover of the storm as I make no move and depict no reaction.

“Listen, Hunter, you can’t let guys like Phantom get a rise out of you. It’s not just stupid, but unprofessional.” Hunter’s mouth flattens into a tight line. “I know, man, I know. I’m just so sick of smug assholes like him talking down to me. Just because I’m not a fucking Assassin, it doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t stand with you.” Priest rests his hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “I know, and I would never ask you to be anything but what you are. You’re an amazing tech, and without you, most of us would probably be dead. So, don’t sell yourself short. Being an Assassin is not for everyone. We’ve all given up our souls in exchange for doing what we do. And let me tell you, it’s a hard road to trave

I take the time to separate the Rogues from the Soulless, the women and children from the males until nothing but a large cavern is created with only the entrance from behind us being the only way in and out. [Greg and Maddie, get to the west side of the base quickly, I had no choice but to use my powers and separate the Rogues from the Soulless.] I link the Head Hunter of Blood Moon and my Head Tracker. With a yes Alpha I open my eyes and turn to the fifty Soulless being surrounded by my friends and allies. As usual, Amberle is enjoying the thrill of a hunt as she slices away at the Soulless who attack her, giving them a quick and painless death. Domini chuckles as he stands beside me, prot

Prince Evan butt in. "The mountain spirit said there's a bordello in the small community beyond this forest. There, we will find a man named Orion. We can ask him about a wine called Blood of the Wise. That is what we need to please the magical healer." "But wait. Bordello?" My brows furrowed when I realized what word was used. "Oh. Sounds like a good place." Prince Evan smirked. He exactly knows what to expect in that kind of place. Probably because he's a regular or what.

Only he — the last Blood King — stood in chaos, no god, no ally, only an unfinished promise to the girl who disappeared. A blast. From afar, a squad of Hunter remnants appeared, armed with forbidden blood-spears. Lucien turned, eyes ablaze — crimson pupils reflecting hell’s mirror. “We meet again, sinners.” The commander roared, “Your blood ends the demon king’s age!” They charged. Lucien said nothing. His shadow blurred in mist, then shattered like a blade-streak. Movement became blood bursting, bones cracking, souls screaming. Ten seconds. Silence returned — only blood dripping, endlessly into void.

“Motherfucker.” One of the hunters spat the curse as he bent over a bloodied, lifeless body sprawled across the forest floor. He nudged the corpse with the toe of his boot, his face twisting in open disgust as he took in the torn flesh and unnatural form. “So they really are shape shifters,” he muttered, lips curling. “This is what they look like underneath all that skin.” He spat on the body and kicked it hard in the ribs, the dull sound echoing through the clearing.

And somewhere, far beyond the walls of the chamber, a scream echoed through the night—too guttural, too hollow to belong to anything human. The Shadowy Soul was no longer hidden. It was hunting. And Ashwood had only just begun to bleed. —

“That’s truly shameful, more so than a surname ever could be.” “Really?” he snapped. “So you think a pack trying to protect themselves by removing someone with an infamous past, is worse than having the same infamous surname as two different known killers? Really?” “You’re shaming me!” I exclaimed at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Aren’t I your mate? Aren’t you supposed to, oh, trust me?! What could I ever do to you?” There was a beat of silence. “Your father never killed his alpha, only his beta.”

*** 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