Soul Of Ash And Blood Novels & Stories

God help her, she did. And love in a house built on ashes was the most dangerous fire of all.

I received a letter written in blood. "Soul-bound, 'til death do us part. I kept my promise. —Kaelen" A few drops of dried, brown blood stained the paper. Marcus stood beside me. "Should I take care of this?" he asked gently. I shook my head and placed the letter in a drawer. I heard that on the night of the full moon, he severed his connection to the Moon Goddess, letting his wolf spirit dissipate into the night sky. It is the most sacred, and most painful, way for a werewolf to die.

Asher's POV Ever since dinner ended, the urge to see blood spill before my eyes has been unshakable. It's like a pulse dancing around my veins, trapped between my skin and begging me to hurt something. Someone. Sarah had reminded me of something I'd once lost. Someone I'd lost. And that brought back fucked up memories. I’m in the white zone again and I don't want to go there again. The demons in my head scream for blood and I need to purge this before I actually hurt an innocent person.

Let everything go back to normal. Normal. The word tasted like ash. I turned the water off and stood dripping in the quiet. Steam swirled around me thick and heavy. But I didn’t want normal, all I want is her. And that scared me more than any slap Ethan could throw.

For the first time, his expression changed slightly, not into surprise, but into something more fragile, as though the name itself carried weight he had not expected to hear spoken aloud. “She used to sit very close when I spoke,” he said after a pause, “and she always brought marigolds when the weather was bad.” Aisha felt her chest tighten. “And what was her full name?” she asked gently. Arman looked toward the window for a long moment before answering. “She didn’t use it often,” he said. “Only M.” And somewhere in that single letter, Aisha finally understood that she had not been searching for a patient’s delusion. She had been tracing the outline of someone who had once tried to hold a b

Symbols carved in ash lined the stone — sigils of the Varela bloodline, old and nearly extinct. “What is this?” I asked. “A pact,” she said softly. “An original Varela code. The same one that built our cartel generations ago. Each symbol marks a bloodline promise.” She traced one with her finger, her hand trembling slightly. “But this one… it’s new.” “What does it say?” She met my eyes. “It says ‘The Daughter of Ash must burn to rebuild the crown.’” The words hung between us, sharp and cruel. “Someone wants to end the Varela line,” I said.

he blew out. Asher stretched his nail on her forehead and sliced it, blood trickled down her face. Asher slid his tongue on it and licked her raw blood. The lady let out a mousy cry as she lost her energy to protest and yell loudly, he dug his teeth in his neck and sucked out her soul and reserved their bodies for his master play.

said Xenorr coaxingly Ash's mental state is a complete chaos, he can’t seem to distinguish between reality and his past. His mind was like a raging fire aiming toward the thing he desires most, the thirst for blood and vengeance blocking his feeling of pain. The will to pay back is stronger than the flowing blood, immuning to the pain because his inside was more numb. “How can you get to them in this state?” asks Xenorr trying to calm Ash’s mind “You are weak” “I don’t care. I just want revenge, wanting to taste their blood while watching them in pain” Ash casually stated his desired action in such a nonchalant manner

His throat tightened at that. Ash. His brother, not by blood, but something deeper. Older. Bound by the kind of loyalty that didn’t come with words. The last. The last of his kind. A ghost walking in a dead man’s skin for centuries, trapped in a broken reality with no home left to return to. And now. now there’s a chance. A real one. Not just to survive. But to restore. To bring back what was lost. To fix what the fracture took.