Razor's Edge Bloodline Novels & Stories

“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.”

"I am guessing you are a pure blooded vampire as well." "Yes... yes my prince." Raziel snaked his hand round her neck, not actually holding it tightly, but he gave the princess fright. "I come from a bloodline of powerful vampires my prince. We would be the perfect fit." She managed to say, and Raziel pressed on her neck a little. "You have heard about me right? I don't look back when killing my victims." He then looked straight at her as if he was referring to her, and the princess' heart skipped. "Your life is on the line here princess."

That name rippled through the link. Ragnar reacted first, a flicker of recognition as sharp as ice. Bloodline of the Northern Trials. Cassian’s interest sharpened. "That family was erased." Torin flinched, hand curling into a fist. “They tried.” Alejandro studied him carefully. “Why are you here, Torin Blackwood?” Torin met his gaze, and to his credit, did not look away. “Because something old has started moving. And when it does, it burns through the weak first.”

“You need to concentrate. Reign it in. Don’t resist it.” “I’m not resisting,” she gasped. “I can’t—stop it!” The forest shook around them. Rael pushed Kyle aside, stepping directly into Lydia’s line of power. “She needs the truth, not soothing words.” Kyle snapped back, “Rael, don’t…” “She carries the bloodline,” Rael stated firmly. “The blood of the Eclipsed Line.” The impact of those words was like a knife wound. Lydia’s control faltered. Kyle inhaled sharply.

—echoed like a ticking bomb inside my chest. Why turn himself in now? Why after all this time, after everything he’s done? Because he was done being the hunter. He wanted to become the bait. And we were too grief-drunk to realize it. The Chevres. That name has been vibrating like a warning in my skull. Rosetta. Damon. The whole damn bloodline. They’re still out there. Jace pulled the bike to a stop by a cliff that overlooked a black stretch of forest. Stars bled into the open sky. For a second, it felt like we were just...people.

Guns were for enemies. From the weapons rack mounted on the wall, he removed an ancient blade, the symbol of the Family's authority. The blade was long and narrow, its edge gleaming cold. It was the instrument reserved for the execution of the highest-level traitors. In Marco's horrified and desperate eyes, Don Vincenzo did not hesitate. In one swift motion, the blade drove precisely into his heart. Marco's body convulsed violently once. Then he fell silent. It was over. Don Vincenzo took a white silk handkerchief and carefully wiped the blood from the blade. He turned to Lorenzo.

He was going to play the Grim Reaper tonight and he had no remorse about it. “You kept her because you wanted to prevent this. She is alive and it is still happening. You may be my King but I am your friend and your safety is more important to me than whatever that woman has to say” his voice firm. I had no energy to comment anymore. I still felt bursts of the antidote in my system that urged me to go lay down in an ice bath and tremors from my blood that had gone missing from the blade. All the hassle to get that sword was to secure my blood and it was just gone. Right under my nose.

Ironclaw warriors closest to him faltered mid-step, eyes snapping toward him in confusion and fear. The air seemed to thicken, pressing down on them like an invisible weight. One dropped to a knee with a strangled cry. Another staggered, hands clawing at his chest as if he couldn’t breathe. “What—” someone whispered. Eyrix didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke. “Enough.” The word rippled outward Ironclaw froze. Ryder turned, blade dripping, eyes locking onto Eyrix. For a heartbeat, the world held still. Then Ironclaw’s commander stepped forward from the shadows, tall and armored in blackened steel etched with the sigil of Eyrix’s bloodline.

It caused my blood boil that he was finding joy in bloodshed. I pushed forward through the bodies. My blade was surprisingly cutting through the air with deadly precision. When it was parried, I used my claws. I tried not to kill anyone. My only target was Ragnarok. He was the source of all this. I couldn't let Astra have the burden of killing her brother. If I could just reach him and end him, her nightmare would be over.

had been undercover within his older brother’s gang for years since it was our first mission given to us by the Death Kings the year Carley disappeared. “You are one of the traitors who killed my brother,” Razor snarls, spewing spittle in my face with his disgust. I fill a jolt of shock as the large hunting knife in his hand sinks into my chest, causing me to cry out in pain. His hand quickly slaps over my mouth to muffle my screams of agony. He doesn’t move until my limbs are laden, refusing to work, refusing to come to my aid even though I’m no longer pinned beneath him. “You’ll die and the others will know the pain I felt,” he growls walking away, disappearing before the sound of heavy fo