The Bloodstone Novels & Stories

I cleared my throat, looking over at Alora, her free hand finding mine. "I, Damon Bloodstone, accept this bond and the crown that follows. I will protect my people with my life and bind myself to the mothers and the mate they have gifted me." My eyes didn't leave Alora's as I felt the blade slice across my palm. The silver burned as it pierced the skin, and blood pooled in my palm. "Now, Alora, repeat after me." Melody continued.

My heels echoed against the cold marble—a surface my father adored but I loathed. Not for its beauty, but for the way it betrayed even a single drop of blood. A nightmare for the maids, though they deserved far better after all they’d seen. Soon, I would change that. Once I inherited my father’s empire, they would never have to scrub away another man's sins. Exhaling softly, I ran a manicured hand through my platinum locks, steadying myself. I was heading to my father’s office for a meeting that could alter the balance of power—one contract, one signature, one carefully calculated move. I could not afford a mistake.

Without protection, a vampire could compel any human close to me … and I could be compelled, too. Raven closed her eyes as she held my hand and extended her other hand over the stones. “Siramacha brenach bondagia compage, siramacha brenach bondagia compage, siramacha brenach bondagia compage.” She opened her eyes, clearly drained. She reached down and picked up one of the stones, placed it in my hand, then curled my fingers around it. “Make sure to carry this with you at all times.” I nodded and looked down at the stone. I could definitely see why it was called Bloodstone. It looked like blood had been splashed into a sea of green, then frozen into a stone.

The door swung open without sound. The vault inside was small and cold and contained exactly what a vault built by someone who had been accumulating supernatural objects for nine centuries would contain. Shelves. Cases. Items whose age and power I could feel from the doorway without being able to identify any of them specifically. Viviana went straight to the center case. She knew exactly where it was. The Bloodstone sat on a cushion of dark material inside a glass case that had its own separate ward architecture layered over it. Red. Smooth. About the size of my closed fist. It looked unremarkable in the way that very dangerous things sometimes looked unremar

Tharion set to work, using his knowledge of alchemy and the arcane to forge the Bloodstone Amulet. The creation of the amulet was a complex and dangerous process. Tharion began by selecting a rare mineral known as Bloodstone, which was said to have the ability to store and amplify energy. The Bloodstone was a deep, blood-red crystal, veined with streaks of black that seemed to pulse with a life of their own. It was a mineral that was difficult to find and even harder to work with, but Tharion was determined to succeed.

But there's something around Siobhan that loosens slightly, some millimeter of the performance that drops, and I file that away because information about where her walls thin is information I intend to use. The ring is in my jacket pocket. A Colombian emerald in a platinum setting — Fergus said diamonds, my mother said diamonds, the jeweler said diamonds. I said no. An emerald the precise color of my eyes. I want her to think of me every time she looks at her own hand. I want her to know, from the very beginning, that I am not a man who does conventional. We step onto the townhouse terrace a!er the third course under the pretext of air. The city sprawls below us. She stands at the railing an

This sensation stirred a passionate flame within us, a flame ignited by our boundless curiosity and a burning desire to decode the enigmas that had always connected us. As we methodically examined the myriad of ancient scrolls and painstakingly penned manuscripts that lay before us, each new piece of information caused our eyes to widen in astonishment. Words, penned many centuries prior, seemed to weave a narrative that hinted at the depth of our bond, a connection that had endured the relentless march of time and continued to draw us closer. Celeste, her voice a gentle whisper, conveyed her amazement and trepidation, her emotions a tumultuous blend of exhilaration and apprehension. Graspin

He raised his head, his eyes meeting Kaelen's with a flicker of awareness, a plea in his eyes. "Get… the Elders," Miyal's voice was little more than a whisper, strained from effort, but it bore the weight of authority. "The chains… they're not sufficient. I require the Bloodstone. Kaelen stood transfixed. The Bloodstone. That single relic that could destroy the connection between Miyal and Vosvak. A relic ancient, lost to the ages, rumored to be buried within the depths of the Citadel's repository, guarded by curse and trap that none but the boldest or most fooliswould attempt to find.

I I reach out with both hands, but before I can touch it, Finn’s hand stops mine. “Are you sure you want to do that?” I nod my head. He moves his hand away, and I pick up the Bloodstone. It warms in my hands. Like I noticed last time, it is not as warm as before, and the swirling souls inside are moving slowly. You have to watch carefully to see them shift and swirl.

Philip asked. Ludo glared at him vehemently and said, “A bloodstone was dug up in Mystic Mine Seven three years ago. The entire jade looked as if it was permeated with blood. It was red from the inside out. It was rumored that people who have seen this bloodstone have gotten into accidents one after another. They either committed suicide, were dying from illness, or went crazy. After that, Mystic Mine Seven was closed. It was only opened recently.” After waiting for a while, Philip asked anxiously, “Is that it?”