Skyrim Blood And Snow Novels & Stories

Roman’s P.O.V The warmth had totally fled from Snow’s body. I held her, my hands trembling with helplessness I had never really known except the day my blood was cursed. No matter how much of my cursed lycan blood I desperately forced past her lips, she remained deathly still, her once-soft skin turning a sickly shade of blue. I pressed my forehead to hers, inhaling a scent that was already fading, slipping through my grasp like fucking smoke. FUCK!

Ronan The snow drinks blood well. It sinks into the white in delicate threads, steam curling off it like breath from a dying mouth. The trees are silent now. Still. Even the crows keep their distance. I rise from the mess at my feet and wipe the blade clean on a dead man’s coat. Three Redmaw scouts. Two are already dead, one is half-alive and pissing himself when I pin him to the tree with a dagger through his thigh. He doesn’t give me anything useful, just confirmation of what my senses are already telling me.

The world was red. We crested the northern ridge just as dawn began to bleed across the horizon, painting the snow in fire and shadow. The scent of death was thick in the air: blood, venom, and smoke. Bodies littered the ground in twisted heaps, steam rising from them like ghosts trying to leave. Blaise reached the field first. Phantom burst through the tree line, golden eyes blazing with fury. I followed close behind, my own Lycan snapping at the wind, razor-sharp claws striking wolves on the run, with their tails between their legs.

The elder walked up to Fenris and held out the curved iron blade, handle first. "To lead the Ironmaw," the elder said, locking his pale eyes onto mine, "you must share the blood of the kill. You must take the Blood Vow." My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Eat the heart. Mina didn’t warn me about this. Fenris took the iron blade. He didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He turned his broad back to me, dropped to one knee in the blood-soaked snow, and drove the knife directly into the center of the massive elk's chest.

I didn't hear anything. And just as they had disappeared the bright garden turned dark. I turned around to see a red sky. I saw Snow. Her fur was covered in blood, her mouth painted red with a skull in it. “Don’t go close to him!!.” I turned to see an identical wolf. I looked back at the other wolf and then the other. It took me a while but I finally could tell the difference, I ran towards snow… she was smaller than the other wolf. “Alora no!!!!, don’t run away from yourself!.” The blood bathed wolf cried.

"We are vampires with hearts and consciences. We love humans as our brothers and sisters. We do not want to see them suffer because of you." "Then what are you going to do? Just the two of you against me and my army? You have no chance of winning," Draven said mockingly. "We're not alone, Draven," Alex said with a smile. "We have help from our friends." Suddenly, the door to the main room burst open, and in walked a group of people carrying sharp weapons and fire. They were Alex and Victoria's human friends, who had learnt of the Bloods' plans from them. They had come to help Alex and Victoria fight the Bloods.

And yet, somehow, I was given the hardest task of all. Picking up the tray, which was heavier than all the rest since it was full of pitcher of heavy blood, I made for the door. The Pack clinic always kept a well-stocked blood bank, both in case a wolf needed a transfusion and for whenever important Vampires come calling. Since Werewolves heal so quickly, it doesn't take much to restock it with donations. I helped Rosie a few times doing blood drives during the long years of the war.

Drake’s POV – I stir awake to the faint echoes of battle still humming through the air. The scent of blood clings to the wind, but the fighting is ending—our men and Baylee’s wolves are finishing off the last of the rogues. It doesn’t take long. When it’s over, Ben taps me, and I open my eyes with a groan, blinking as the sunlight hits me full in the face. “Damn, that’s bright,” I mumble, shielding my eyes. Beside me, Dain groans too, clutching his head as the last traces of poison seep from my body. Caron’s potion is working—cleansing, pushing out the darkness.

The hollow floor was slick with blood. Wolves lay broken in the moss, their howls stilled. The torches the witches had carried sputtered in the damp, smoke curling toward the cracked ceiling. Selene stood at the center, chest heaving, sweat streaking her temple, her hands glowing faintly gold and silver.

She tilted her chin toward the hallway and said, “See the door with the blue light over there? That’s a licensed blood donation center. It’s open twenty-four hours. Ma’am, you can sell your blood for some money.” She paused, her gaze settling back on my face, as if measuring my reaction. “Not only will it be enough to buy that box of medicine, but it might even help you chip away at whatever debt you’ve got on your credit card.” I didn’t want to sell my blood, but I wanted to survive. So, I had no choice. The needle pierced my skin, and I watched as my blood rushed through the clear plastic tube into the collection bag. The first bag filled quickly, and the machine let out a soft beep.