Soul King Bleach Novels & Stories

I asked. "Yes, Sir Christopher," he said and walked away. "Wait, what?" Layla asked. "Sir Christopher? The fuck is going on?" Tini asked. "They call you Sir Christopher?" she repeated. "It's Kerion. He's just very theatrical," I explained, but they were not buying it. "Sure, Sir Christopher," Tate retorted, and they all burst out laughing. "Sunshine, come here for a second," Dante called me from inside his office. "Sunshine?" Tate asked.

“Don’t worry, she’ll be fine. What do you want to eat?” Maria giggled, her fingers stroking his arm as she murmurs something into his ear. Tears threaten to spill, but I refused to let them see me break. I push through the doors, my heels clicking against the marbled floor as I went to the restroom. Inside, I collapse against the sink, sobbing silently. Until a deep, unfamiliar voice broke through my pain. “Hi, I’m Stefan—” I looked up with clouded eyes. “Stefan Andres?!!! CEO of The Wealth Club?!”. I widened my eyes in shock, with my lips parted and looking lost at him.

I shouted, desperation creeping into my voice. "Stay with me, Serenity!" Tay urged, his grip on my hand tightening. Just when it seemed like we were about to be overwhelmed, a blinding flash of light filled the corridor. Jalen recoiled, his dark energy faltering. Through the light, a figure emerged, radiating power and authority. "Elder Jalen, your time is up," the newcomer declared, their voice resonating with undeniable strength. Jalen snarled, his eyes narrowing. "You!"

I blinked, Cazz’s hoarse growl from the night before coming back to me. I am King, Jesse. King of your heart, mind, and body. King of your soul… You are my mate, my Queen. The holder of my soul. And so I Claim you, you lucky bitch. You are mine, Jesse. Forever. “The holder of my soul…” I breathed. Rake’s head jerked back. “He said that? About you?” I nodded, watching him. “Why do you look like that? He said he was King of my soul, so isn’t that the same thing?”

“Is that all you wanna fucking remember? What about me telling you to stay the fuck away from me? That didn’t stick?” Her face puffed up. I could see her all so familiar rage returning and I knew she would have hit me with that stupid bat of hers if she could. “Why the fuck was someone like you even around me when I was five?!” Jesus fucking Christ. “Someone like me?” “You are called the Reaper King, so you’re not a fucking saint either,” She yelled. “What? You think being in this club changes all the terrible things you’ve done? Or taking care of the president’s orphaned daughter abstains you? You’re a fucking hypocrite. The fact that I’m such a raging bitch is because you’re a—”

I sat in my room for three days. Not dramatically. I attended to my duties — the morning cleaning rotation, the evening meal service, the geomun'go practice that Mistress Hana insisted upon regardless of scheduling or emotional state. I did these things. I did them correctly. I did them without letting anything show on my face, which was not difficult because I had been trained since childhood to perform tasks without letting things show on my face. Between duties, she sat on my sleeping mat and thought. Soul Sight activates upon soulbound recognition, I had read, in the texts. The connection, once formed, cannot be unformed. The soul recognizes what it has always been bound to.

And something inside him… shattered. "Alexei…" I said quietly, watching him closely. "Are you sure?" "No," he admitted. "But I need her." "Just don’t wake her up." "I can’t promise that, Pavel." Then he kissed her. And when his lips met hers, her light touched him. It didn’t just wrap around him—it pierced through him. Tore him open. And what spilled out wasn’t tenderness… it was darkness. The rawest part of him, the one he always tried to hide even from me, but that I had always known. His soul recognized her. His body claimed her. There was no logic. No restraint.

"Where the hell are your clothes?” Thrakos's laughter echoed off cathedral walls as he stared down at me. “You spill blood, open the veil, and expect me to show up clothed?” he sneered, his head shaking. "Mortals. Always worried about decency." I relaxed my hands back down a little, my eyes dropping to the floor. "I… didn't think I could call you," I said, softly to myself rather than him. "I didn't expect it to work." The Demon King cocked his brow. "And yet here I am."

So close. Then a sudden pulse, sharp and violent, shot through the sigil, throwing Avery backward. The soul flickered—and disappeared. “No!” Avery screamed, lunging forward, but it was too late. The Wraith’s head tilted, jaws snapping. The lost soul’s faint light extinguished, sucked into the shadows. The Veil itself groaned. Kael’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough!” The reaper leapt forward, scythe spinning in a graceful arc. The Wraith shrieked as the weapon tore into it, cutting deep. The beast recoiled and vanished with a final, echoing scream. Avery collapsed to their knees, chest heaving, eyes wide.