Spicy Books Like From Blood And Ash Novels & Stories

Sweat slicked our bodies; every glide grew smoother, hotter. I raked my nails down his back, hard enough to leave angry red lines. He snarled, slammed in sharper, angling just right to batter that swollen spot inside me. Lightning shot up my spine. White sparks burst behind my eyelids. I screamed as my hips snapped up to meet every brutal drive. He shifted his weight and braced one thick forearm beside my head. The other hand dove between us as his fingers found my clit, he circled firmly and fast, no teasing, no mercy.

The fire in the library had long since gone out. Ash clung to the edges of the hearth like ghosts too stubborn to leave. The once-warm glow that had bathed the room in amber tones was nothing but a memory now, replaced by a brittle cold that sank into the bones. Shadows loomed in the corners—long, unmoving, like watchers in the dark. The scent of old books and aged leather lingered, but beneath it, something sharper had crept in. Metallic. Like the storm-slick scent of blood or a coming reckoning.

the guard bowed her headed for the shelf to bring the book he requested for. Blair took that moment to look around at the books and their titles, but there was none that interest her, it was all about plants, animals and more aspects which sounded and looked boring to her. The made her realize the types of books Ashier loved to read. Back in her own world, all they read was fantasy novels, romance and fictions, but there seemed to be nothing like that in this big shelf. She wondered how he finds it fun to read such boring books.

He simply sipped his coffee, his eyes fixed on the open book Ashara had abandoned—The Legacy of the Blood Born—and the journal still lying in her lap. On the other side of the call, Zev’s voice was calm but warm, laced with the effortless charm that always seemed to come naturally to him. “Hey, Ashara. I hope I’m not interrupting something important.” Ashara giggled and leaned back in the oversized chair, curling her legs beneath her. “Not at all! Just… reading some crazy vampire fiction my dad apparently collects.” Zev chuckled. “Let me guess, the ones that talk about wolves and treaties and blood feuds?”

I approached slowly, the heels of my boots clicking softly on the polished floor. Drawn like a moth to a flame, I skimmed my fingers across the titles etched on the spines. Tales of kings. Wars. Bloodlines. My gaze caught on a thick, weathered book left open on the desk. Its title was simple: Pack Histories and Blood Betrayals. A cold shiver rippled through me. I leaned over, my shadow swallowing the page, and began to read. At first, it was the usual: chronicles of battles, treaties, ascensions. But then, a word snared me, rooted me in place:

A line not meant to be crossed without bleeding for it. The snow beyond wasn’t truly snow anymore. It wore a skin of frost, yes—but underneath, something glistened wrong. Not with reflections, but refractions. The light bent through it as if what lay beneath remembered blood. Then the scent hit. Not suddenly, but slow, curling in like smoke nosing under a door. Blood. Thick, iron-rich. It clotted in the air, ripe and heavy, like it had been spilled and left to ferment. Beneath that: sulfur. Acrid and bitter. A ghost of flame that hadn’t burned clean.

D_Novel’s Book 3 will be released in the next few weeks, please check on my account incase i have already uploaded it, once released it will be uploaded daily (hopefully) so please give it a go, this book is only book 2 in a 10 book series so there is plenty more for you to read so please follow me, comment, leave a review and most of all enjoy! Much love from your friendly neighbourhood writer, J.D ;)

The not-Asher went down hard, crashing into the blood-soaked floor with a wet, heavy sound, skidding several feet through the red and leaving a dark smear in its wake. I waited for it to stay down. It didn’t. Slowly, horribly, impossibly slowly, with the casual unhurriedness of something that has no concept of being hurt, the thing reached up and began pulling the knives out of its own neck. The blood that followed was black. Thick and black and threaded with something silver, like mercury had gotten into its veins. The smell that came with it was rot. Old, deep rot. The smell of something that had never been truly alive.

🎀CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY-ONE🎀 Panic instantly ripped through the library. The quiet readers who had been scattered among the tables began to scramble in terror, their hushed whispers turning into desperate cries as the thieves took over. To assert their dominance, the men began violently flipping the heavy wooden tables upside down. They tore priceless, ancient books straight from the shelves, tossing them onto the floor and carelessly stepping on them with their muddy boots. Zayla’s eyes widened in absolute shock at the wanton destruction. She quickly whipped her head to look at Asher, expecting a sudden outburst, but he didn't have a single reaction. He stood there like a statue o

I've been restraining from initiating anything overly s*xual and it has been messing with my senses. Asher smirks, and I know what's coming before he says it. “Are you weak? Do you wanna go home and cut yourself for a little ease?” A low blow, but it makes me snicker, “at least I don't go on a killing spree for no reason” He hauls himself at me, but I counter it by kneeing him at the sensitive spot right below his rib cage. He collapses, breath escaping like a punctured balloon. Unlike me, who found another outlet back when we were sixteen, Asher decided to go on a killing spree; he murdered about thirty people before I came back.