Strike The Blood Avrora Novels & Stories

They wanted her blood. She wasn’t going to give it to them. As she stepped outside, she saw the first soldier land nearby. He froze when he saw her eyes glowing faint gold. “Drop your weapon,” she said quietly. He didn’t. So she raised her hand. The ground beneath him erupted, tossing him backward into the flames. The others shouted, scattering, firing blindly. Ava moved through the chaos like a storm, the serum in her veins guiding her, protecting her. But she wasn’t fighting to kill. She was fighting to end it.

Yet, Sara seemed not to notice as her mind was completely focused on taking out a Vampire before they could surround her. In a few breaths of time, she was at the bottom of the hill with one of the vampires staring at her. As if it recognized some form of danger, it inspired as to prepare a growl to warn the other members of its gang. Before it could though, Sara jumped horizontally and slashed at full strength toward the head of the vampire. Her claws, empowered with her "Aura", cut the vampire horizontally from its head till half its body like it was butter. The vampire was dead on the spot!

Each movement left streaks of distortion that bent the world around it, as though reality itself recoiled from its presence. Kael’s voice tore through the comm link, calm despite the chaos. “Flank right! Keep it contained!” The strike team moved with practiced precision. Liora vanished into a blur of golden light, reappearing above the creature to strike from above, while Corren charged forward, his scythe igniting with crimson runes. The ground shook beneath his swings, each blow sparking waves of raw energy. The corrupted soul roared — a sound that vibrated through Avery’s chest, setting the tether alight. Pain lanced through her ribs, sharp and searing. She staggered, clutching at her che

Brooms, buckets, and dusty rags littered the space. Without wasting a second, Ava snapped a broom in half, turning it into a rough wooden club. Rita stood there sobbing, completely lost. “Stop crying.” Ava’s voice was steady, almost gentle. “No matter what happens to me, I won’t let them touch you.” Rita only cried harder, wiping her tears with dirty sleeves. Ava pressed the broken stick into her trembling hands. “When I lure one of them in,” Ava instructed, “you hit him over the head as hard as you can.”

The snarl on his lips and hatred in his eyes as he charged me had sealed this night's fate to sit at the top ten worst nights of all time! Pulling myself up, I looked around the now-empty forest in confusion; everyone knew vampires never left their prey! So why had he jumped me and not hurt me, or was I missing something? "Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth Aurora!" Ava barked at me, lending me strength as I forced myself onto my feet, my legs wobbling under the strain of my achy body. Gasping, I looked around me; the ground was painted in vibrant flashes of red and white. If it weren't for the metallic smell of blood assaulting my nostrils, I would say there had been a paint party in

“Why should I shut up when it isn't a secret that you're having an affair with your mate’s father. Is that how desperately you want to be the Luna? That you couldn't even wait for the mantle to be passed to Argon!” I could feel the heat rising, and I knew this wasn’t going to end well. I stepped back, trying to collect myself, I knew exactly how annoying Ava can be, but her snide remarks kept hitting where it hurt. I turned away, walking toward the room Grant had set up for me, but a sudden sharp pain hit my head. I touched the spot, feeling something wet. Blood. My blood. “You're a disgrace to our kind. If not that you were my sister, I would have had you stoned to death,” Ava hissed angril

She produced a small, ceremonial knife from her robes and raised it to my palm. "What are you doing?" Derek asked, my voice laced with a mix of fear and worry. Shirer's eyes met his. "I need your blood to anchor Ava's spirit. To bring her back from the brink." With a swift, precise motion, Shirer cut a small gash in my palm. I winced, but didn't pull away. Shirer raised the knife to her lips, and I felt a jolt of surprise as she licked the blade clean. Shirer began to chant in the old religion, her voice rising and falling in a hypnotic cadence:

“No, wait—” My hand slides through my hair, finds the bone pin carved from my enemy's femur, and drives it into her neck in one swift motion. She gasps once, then nothing. Her head hits the desk softly. I lick the blood from the pin and tuck it back into my hair. The taste of her blood lingers on my tongue. “I’m sorry, Martha,” I whisper. “Aurora would’ve spared you. But I’m not Aurora.” No gore. No suffering. Just swift. The way she deserved.