Spider-man: Bloodline Novels & Stories

“Your mother, Princess Anita, was the daughter of King Artemis—the true Lycan King.” A silence fell over us, heavy and full of unspoken truths. My fingers tightened around the pendant, my mind reeling. “Princess Anita… my mother?” “Yes,” Marcus said, his voice low, reverent. “She was a symbol of hope for all of us. The Red Lycan bloodline was something we believed would bring unity, peace. When she disappeared, we feared the worst. But then we heard of you, her daughter… and we knew that the bloodline still lived on.”

Jake watched a dark red slimy substance flow out from the top of the can, descending down its sides and began to slowly creep towards him, reminding him of Venom, the alien from Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man. The scary gooey substance hissed and Jake could see small bubbles pop out of it like it was boiling. At one point, some of the substance lurched out at him, landing on his left arm which began to burn like hell. It felt like hot lava, smoldering his skin. He was just about to scream when someone put a hand on his shoulder. “Excuse me, is this yours?” The burning immediately stopped as Jake turned to find a young woman with glasses standing in front of him, her hand outstretched toward him,

It was strictly forbidden by the pack rules for any werewolf to remain in their tents during the morning work hours. _But who cares? The rules were meant for others, not me._ My name is Samantha Emberwood. I was born half-werewolf, half-nymph, under a special lineage of wolf known as Purebred. Unlike others of my kind who have the ability to transform and communicate directly with their wolves, Purebreds possess the ability to separate from their inner wolf, creating a special bond that grants us control and mastery over their abilities. In the entire Dawn Runner pack, I'm the only one born with the Purebred Bloodline. Rumor has it that I inherited my abilities from my birth mother. But the

“Now.” In the living room Damian had pulled out a whiteboard. Like this was some kind of war room. “Obasi wants the company,” Damian said. “He swapped babies twenty-eight years ago. Me and… someone else.” Marcus went completely still. “DNA test tomorrow,” Damian continued. “All of us. And the baby when it’s born.” Zara’s stomach flipped. “You think—” “I think Obasi wouldn’t be this desperate unless the bloodline was wrong,” Damian said.

Dante lifted a large plastic package. “We’re calling on a Bratva boss’s grandchild, Dante. Not recruiting a child soldier.” He returned it with a long exhale. “This,” Elena said. “Magnetic construction set.” “We’re talking about the heir to the largest Bratva network on the East Coast—” “—who is six years old and cannot spell ‘Bratva’ yet.” Dante went quiet. His mouth opened. Closed. “…Fair point.” They turned toward the register. The store’s quiet shattered.

He has been down here for four hours, which is nothing, which is routine, which is what he tells himself. The blood-sense has been smoking for eleven days. Two hundred and sixty-three years he's had it. Since the night in 1762 when a woman named Elise, who turned him against his own considered wishes in a Viennese cellar during the Seven Years' War, pressed her wrist against his mouth and said, you'll understand in a moment, and he did. He understood immediately. He felt his bloodline snap into place the way you feel a map unfold — the specific geography of everyone who had ever come from Elise, and everyone who had come from them, a web of thirty-seven souls distributed across Europe like s

I carry the Godfather's bloodline. The air froze instantly. Marco's face turned a violent shade of red. The hand gripping Mia's backside tightened suddenly. She let out a muffled cry of pain but did not dare struggle. "What did you say?" The words squeezed out between Marco's teeth. His eyes locked onto my flat stomach, as if fire might erupt from them at any moment. The next second, his thick hand wrapped around my throat. "You've always been a rude little tramp. But at the very least, you shouldn't throw filth onto the Godfather."

"Then he takes ours." It was messy and completely primitive. We found the IV lines and the thick needles. Sophia sat on the edge of the bed, letting me guide the needle into her vein first, running the line directly into the port on Dante’s arm. When her face started to pale, we switched. I shoved the needle into my own forearm, watching my own dark blood travel through the clear plastic tube, disappearing into his cold body. Slowly, the deathly gray shadow on his face began to lift. A faint, natural color returned to his jawline. His chest began to rise and fall in a deep, stable rhythm. He was still deep under, unconscious and exhausted, but he was stable.

Leo immediately lifted one hand. A tiny flame danced above his fingertips. The little boy grinned proudly. "Told you." Aurora rolled her eyes. "Show-off." Leo looked deeply pleased with himself. I turned another page. The next bloodline belonged to Sol. Or rather... To Elias. To the original royal bloodline. My breath caught. Solar Bloodline Gift: Light Spectrum Control. I blinked. Then read it again. Not sunlight. Not fire. Not solar energy. The entire spectrum of light. Visible.

I flipped to the back of the book. The last chapter was titled "The Line of Lunae: Unique Manifestations of Power." I sat down on the stone bench and started reading. The Line of Lunae possessed a unique gift, separate from the standard Alpha bloodline abilities. This power, known as the Blood-Call, allowed those of Lunae descent to feel and influence the emotional landscape of those around them. Unlike empathic abilities, which are subtle and passive, the Blood-Call functions more like weather. It can be gentle or it can be a storm, depending on the wielder's emotional state.