Slayer World Painted Blood Novels & Stories

I believe people can read this as a novel but in reality the author just wants to expose their readers to the monsters they see in other worlds. The title 'Desire for thirst' was inspired from my personal experience of writing this series. The main character in Desire for thirst is the werewolf which murdered my mom. For every novel, I make some particular things to specify from each book like the manner of killing. Likewise, the manner I used in Desire for thirst is man in Balck clothing slashing his victims throat after cutting out their tongue. i got shocked after seeing the similar manner of killing in the news. Was it only a coincidence or... i couldn't even come up with any ways to thi

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.

A new Alpha and a true pack instead of the monarchy Dean had imposed on them. "We have lived isolated in fear, thinking there is no hope. While we tried to see who was better, the witches are taking over lands and killing off our kind. While we try to fight for who will own the better part of a country, the world is covered in ash, and our kind is close to extinction," he said and took a deep breath. "Henceforth, there will be no demarcation between the bloods and the moons," he said, and people gasped with outrage.

Mom, Dad she called out slowly to them moving close in their direction. By the time she found them they had already transformed into werewolves it's wasn't easy, controlling them as wolves, to make them go under the basement, she tried all she could but failed then she said to them, "I don't care how aggressive you are towards me, you know you can't hurt me because I am also a young wolf, just like you are a werewolf from one pack, I can control you, as been a young she-wolf, I will do anything to make sure you don't cause any harm to others."

His powerful voice sounded in my mind, and I nodded grimly as the next wave of wolves descended upon us, intent on claiming a mate. Blood and gore became the medium, like Picasso's paints as we moved like a machine, precision attacks, and meticulous defense, against a hoard of mindless creatures desperately trying to get past. Varying shades of red painted the walls and floor making everything sticky and slippery all at once, and a pained whelp at my rear signaled the King was beginning to tire.

Him—dripping in blood, swordless but smirking like a wolf. We were a painting of wrath. A duet of ruin.

— The Elders answered again in perfect unison, > “None shall hide. None shall flee. The blood remembers.” Elder Nyra came forth. Tall, pale as frost, her hair long and white. She carried with her a chalice carved from the skull of a saint, the liquid within so black it seemed to drink the torchlight. Her words were colder than Cassian’s and sharper than Seraphine’s and all Elder’s voices. > “Blood calls to blood, and mark to mark. The painter is chosen, but she is not yet claimed. Her blood sings, though she knows not the song.

My head is spinning, the world tilting around me, but I say, “I'm not done.” Killian’s eyes flick to my shoulder, then meets mine. “How are you still standing?” It's then I remember I'm losing blood. The blood spilling from my shoulder makes my limbs heavy, and my vision flickers. I can feel the cold creeping in, and I stagger backwards. My back slams against the wall, and I slide down to the ground, my body too weak to hold me up. My consciousness slips in and out as I fight to stay awake. I look up at Killian. He's just standing there, watching me.

The ground trembled as though the world itself had been struck by a colossal heartbeat. From the rift in the earth, shadows erupted in great torrents, writhing upward like serpents made of smoke and blood. Serena’s body arched violently, her scream tearing into the night sky, echoing through the forest and beyond. The shard of the Blood-Eclipse crown embedded itself into her, burning molten crimson against her skin before vanishing into her body. The rest of the fragments, scattered across the battlefield, answered its call—shooting like meteors into her chest, her head, her bones.

Chapter 6: Shadows in the Rearview I woke up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, my heart pounding like I’d just run from a hit gone wrong. The dream lingered, vivid and unwelcome—Ethan’s face, those warm hazel eyes looking up at me, his lips brushing mine in some dimly lit room that smelled like fresh paint and rain. His hands on my skin, soft and unscarred, pulling me closer while I whispered things I’d never say aloud. It was bullshit, all of it. A fantasy my mind cooked up to torture me, because in reality, touching him would be like dragging an angel into hell.