Supernatural Cain Novels & Stories

My eyes fell now directly at the man who had introduced himself to me as El Cana. “You’re what?” I whispered, trying to get a reply. But he didn’t repeat himself. He just looked at me with those unreadable eyes. “Damon!” He called out to my Dad, who sat quietly behind him now. “Would you like to tell your pretty daughter your crime and how you’ve arranged her for your crime? Or would you rather prefer I do you the honours of telling her of how despicable her father is and her fate now as my bride, whether she likes it or not.”

“You killed someone last night. A human. You fed on him. In Carnegie Hall.” Caitlin felt her world spinning. She could hardly believe she was capable of harming anyone, yet somehow, deep down, she felt it was true. She was afraid to ask who it was. Could it have been Jonah? As if reading her mind, Caleb added, “The vocalist.” Caitlin could hardly take it all in. It felt too surreal. She felt like she had just been branded with a black mark that she could never undo. She felt awful. And out of control.

They shook hands as if a deal had been made. Seraphina giggles again, shaking her head as she turns to pay attention to what Mr. Cartwright has to say. Kieran stares at her for a long time, still smiling and feeling satisfied. Then Mr. Cartwright starts, "He is Lucien Hades, our next target. But mind you, unlike our past targets, he is a bit tricky and very cunning. He is not an ordinary person. He is one of the supernatural kind. A lycanthrope."

He looked up immediately as they entered, relief flowing through their bond at seeing Casie unharmed. "Learn anything useful?" he asked, crossing to her side with the unconscious grace his wolf had gifted him. "Seraphina has a Council ally," she replied, keeping her voice low despite the presumed security of the pack house. "Someone called 'the Arbiter.' And the ritual requires supernatural sacrifices from each major bloodline."

Caitlin flew and flew. She had no idea where she was going, but wherever the wind took her would be fine with her. She felt as if she had nowhere to go, anyway, and nothing left to live for. Her beloved Caleb had betrayed her, and the only other person she cared for in the world, her brother, Sam, had probably betrayed her, too. After all, Sam had led Samantha, had led all of those evil vampires, right to her, right to the King’s Chapel. Was there anyone left in the world she could trust? Was it her destiny that everyone who came into her life ended up betraying her?

He turned and walked out. Saxon lay there, hard, panting, furious. And leaking. — 11:55 A.M. Cain sat in the security control room, watching Saxon pace the courtyard like a caged animal. He wasn’t stupid—he knew what denial did to him. What a denied orgasm felt like for Saxon Rivera, a man used to being worshipped, touched, fucked on demand. This? This was Cain reclaiming power. And fuck, it felt good. — 14:00 P.M.

With a snarl Cain launched himself toward the feathered terror, at the same moment I reached Verity’s side; her eyes glued to the fight, never leaving Cain. Cain ripped and tore at the angel, who looked positively gleeful the entire time. His fist flying it plowed into the iridescent skin of heaven’s fallen. A tear opened up on Kokabiel’s face, blood dripping down his cheek making a slash of red. His lips curved in a smile he returned as good as he got, both of them bloody and bruised. Verity beside me shaking, but not with terror, with rage. Cain, according to the Bible, is immortal. Unable to be killed or harmed and under God’s protection, he was the only one guaranteed to leave this battl

Magic bleeds from the ground in sickening waves. Cain is ten paces ahead of me. He’s kneeling. Blood coats his hands—not his. Someone else’s. His shoulders are hunched, breath coming in harsh pulls like he’s holding himself together by will alone. “Cain,” I say. He freezes. Slowly—so slowly—he turns. His eyes widen. His face goes completely blank. “No,” he whispers. “No. I’m not doing this. I didn’t summon you.” I tilt my head. “Rude. I came all this way.”

The curse flickers around the edges of his aura, dark lightning crawling under his skin. He presses trembling fingers to his temple. “He’s waking up again,” Cain whispers. “The part of me that spoke to you.” My blood runs cold. “Can you control him?” “No.” A raw, humorless laugh. “I can’t even control me.” He looks at me like I’m both salvation and death. “If he comes out again…” His voice fractures. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to take my body back.” My throat tightens. “Cain—”

“I’ve almost isolated the source, but—” The screen flashed white, then black, then resolved into a low resolution video. The lighting was dim, flickering like candlelight. Then I saw Cain, he was on his knees, chest heaving, shirtless and marked with sigils that burned against his skin. Around him stood hooded figures chanting in an old, guttural tongue. And then, he screamed. “Isabella!” he cried, his voice breaking. “I need you—I can’t complete the ritual without you!”