Strike Of Blood Characters Novels & Stories

It was crushed with such structural, devastating violence that the white bone had actually splintered completely through the thick leather of his tactical riding trousers. It was a crippling, permanent, career-ending strike. A strike delivered by my delicate contract wife. The terrifying reality that Valeria Pierce had done this to a prime Lycan Alpha-line warrior with her own two bare hands made a freezing chill run straight down my spine. Thorne’s head was hanging low, his matted dark hair heavily soaked in a mixture of freezing sweat and grime. At the heavy sound of my combat boots echoing in the cell, his chin slowly, painfully lifted.

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 mumbled, correctly interpreting Char's stupefication. "Whose blood is on you?" Char asked, moving on to what she thought was a safer subject, I presumed. "Me. It's mine. I bled all over myself." "What? How?" As calmly as I could, I explained the night of the deal again, adding the bloodletting part, which I'd erroneously thought inconsequential. I explained how Grayson came back, the plane and my almost meeting with the grim reaper. "Okay, how exactly is that possible?! Your blood touched his and now you can't leave Estonia?" It seems even Char had difficulty accepting the blood bind thing. Thank goodness I wasn't the only one.

He’d been so gentle and loving towards me at the hospital, that I’d almost forgotten who he was. But he was Rain Blood! Rogue alpha of the most dangerous and notorious pack of rogues that had ever been – Gods of War! He didn’t show mercy. He didn’t even show emotions. He didn’t even have a heart… So if this was the punishment he saw fit for someone disobeying him, who were I to oppose him? Hell, some might call it karma. He did this because they’d hurt me first. Tortured me and humiliated me. Some might even say he did it for me and I should feel flattered…

For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade. I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power. I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory. I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning. Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith. A princess from a powerful European vampire clan. He said it was a necessary alliance. He said my blood was still precious. But when the sanctified silver tearing through the car,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished. That's when I knew. I was never his lover. I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded.

“Prove you are more than a vessel.” A circle of flame. A mirror of ice. And Seris, snarling behind bars. “Let me out,” she hissed. “If I do,” I asked, “will you ever let me back in?” She only smiled. The first attack came from above. A rain of burning arrows lit the Bloodfang stronghold. Lira’s army marched with silver spears and charmed wolves. I ran toward the fire, not away. Because the Moon wasn’t watching tonight. The Moon was bleeding, I was the only one who could make it stop.

It shrieked, a sound that was far from human, and dissolved into black smoke. So they could do that? That was how they died? By dissolving into smoke? Pretty much interesting. “Sophie, get back!” Damon’s voice reached me through the bond as he tore through two more creatures. I retreated a bit backwards, looking for some cover in the clearing, but more of them kept coming. There were just too many. Damon’s POV Anger was the motivation behind every strike that I made. These things didn’t bleed like normal enemies, they dissolved into smoke and reformed. But I was faster, stronger, and fighting for the people that I had made a vow to protect.

“Fight for him, Irwin. He’s your mate. You weren’t bound to him by accident. It’s in your blood, in your soul. Fight!” The girl’s voice echoed, growing deeper and more commanding. “You weren’t just bound by chance—you were bound by bloodlines!” Heat surged through Irwin’s body, her vision blurring as rage and despair consumed her. She fell to her knees, her hands clawing at the ground. The earth trembled beneath her fingers, cracks forming and spreading outward as raw power coursed through her veins. “Save him!” the replica roared. With a feral scream, Irwin launched herself forward, her body ablaze with energy. Flames erupted from her hands as she reached Dorian, the fire searing through th

She starts toward the mess, probably planning to clean it up, and I want to tell her not to bother, want to tell her to just leave and take her stupid concern and her circadian rhythms with her. But then she kneels down next to the broken plate and reaches for one of the larger pieces of ceramic. Her hand slips. The edge of the shard catches her palm, cutting a line across it that immediately starts to bleed. She makes a small sound, barely more than a breath, and pulls her hand back. “Leave it,” I say, my voice coming out rougher. “It’s fine. I just need to—” “I said leave it.” She looks up at me, her hand pressed against her stomach now, trying to hide the cut even though I can already see

She had stuck him with a knife, almost similar to the one used on his father. Roaring in anger, he lashed out with his paws and hit her, sending her sprawling 10 feet away. The pain from the knife was raging and boiling in his blood. It was like his blood was turning into acid. He turned to Marc, who had a small smirk on his lips at what was happening and snarled. Marc's smile froze as Kincaid bit his neck and broke the bone in half. He dumped the dead alpha on the floor and tried to walk back to the main fight.