Sanguine Vampires Novels & Stories

The Sanguinite is a rare and mythical material known for its lethality against vampire royalty. Sanguinite stakes are infused with the essence of the ancient mage royal bloodline and imbued with potent mystical properties. These formidable weapons were designed for the sole purpose of maintaining control over the Vampire royals, given the ineffectiveness of conventional wooden stakes against them.

Xavier's pov: My name is Xavier Fernandes, A full-blooded vampire from the Dracula lineage and the head vampire of my clan. Vampires, they said, cannot walk during the day, because we react to the sun, but due to the nature of my blood which my people call the Golden Blood, I can walk around during the day and more perfectly at nightfall

I ran, with my fists clenched as hard as I could, to my room. I didn't want Godiva to find out about my dark side before we got married. That would be a significant obstacle that could drive her away from me. I had to hide my and Pollux's activities until Godiva was truly ours. I went straight into the bathroom to clean myself up. I saw the red-colored rinse water on the bathroom floor. Why do those damn vampires have to bleed? Fucking hell! That was what made me hate them. Sanguine Shadows had modified their chromosomes to come out during the day and have blood to mingle with humans. The truce between the Sanguine Shadows and the werewolf race prevented me from simply slaying them.

Currently, vampires consist of four types. The first type of vampire is known as the nightwalker vampires. They are the ‘children’ under Ambrogio, which he’s able to transfer his abilities through his saliva. The saliva injected to the blood, which causes changes to the person affected by it. Though they are not as powerful as Ambrogio, they have super strength, speed, senses, vision, atomize, and they are lesser immortals. Ambrogio’s curses are also passed down upon them, where they would die if they were exposed to sunlight and silver.

“The Blood Abbey. A rogue sect of witches and vampires who practice forbidden arts. They have existed for centuries… shadow to shadow, feeding on souls.” Seraphine nodded grimly. “They are the last surviving wielders of Sanguis Vinculum. And they want the Healer’s heart. Not to kill her. To use her.” My pulse slammed against my ribs. Alejandro’s flame cracked across the room like a whip. “No one uses my mate.”

Katherine's voice cut through the silence like a scalpel through flesh. "Let me explain exactly what sanguine sanguis servatur does to its victim." She walked to the centre of the room, and all their eyes followed her. "It spreads like cancer," she said, each word deliberate. "Its slow and merciless. First, it carves a mark into your skin—a sigil that burns itself into your flesh to announce that the debt has come due. The mark glows at first, bright as a brand. And then..." She paused, letting the horror build. "Then it begins to fade. Every day, a little dimmer. A little greyer. And as the light dies, so do you."

Either way, the situations were being handled and efficiently, so we didn’t feel compelled to overanalyse it. When a sanguidae goes on a killing spree, as vicious as the attacks are, the chances of humans ever discovering them is slim to none. Humans hold to their folklores very tightly, so what they know about what they call ‘vampires’ is vastly different from their real life counterparts. So a human is only likely to think ‘vampire’ if someone shows up exsanguinated with two puncture marks on their necks in the dead of night, which as comical as that is, does allow real sanguidae to operate in perfect obscurity.

The man stopped abruptly, almost falling backwards as he did so and muttered a few drunken slurs that were unintelligible, even to a vampire. Feeling his hunger reach its peak, he bared his fangs at the man and snarled just as a strike of lightning tore through the sky, illuminating his figure. Absolutely terrified but still drunk, the man turned on his heel and tried to run away only to trip over, landing in a puddle. He waited until the man had gotten back to his feet and then captured him in a strong grip from behind, sinking his fangs deep into his neck. Guzzling down the warm, sticky blood, he couldn't stop himself even as the bitter taste caused by alcohol hit the back of his throat. I