The Brooklyn Vampire Novels & Stories

After all, it's not like I'm going to be the only vampire searching the city. B-negative. All I needed was some B-negative. All Khloe needed was some B-Negative. And if my own pet needed it to ensure her survival, then I was going to get it for her. It's not like I was going to kill anyone. Scaring them was unavoidable at this point... I licked my fangs as I reached the window. ...But I had a pet to take care of.

EPISODE 1 💮 I am a vampire, and that is the truth. But the modern meaning of the word vampire, the stories that have been told about creatures such as I, are not precisely true. I do not turn to ash in the sun, nor do I cringe when I see a crucifix. I wear a tiny gold cross now around my neck, but only because I like it. I cannot command a pack of wolves to attack or fly through the air. Nor can I make another of my kind simply by having him drink my blood. Wolves do like me, though, as do most predators, and I can jump so high that one might imagine I can fly. As to blood--ah, blood, the whole subject fascinates me. I do like that as well, warm and dripping, when I am thirsty. And I am oft

**Chapter 94 – Thames of Blood** **March 21, 2031 – New York to London Swarm Nest** I’m still in New York when the call comes. The crater in Central Park is still steaming—black ichor boiling away under the rising sun. Julian’s vampires are feeding the last stragglers to the flames, SEALs and Marines securing the perimeter, survivors emerging from subways with wide eyes and cheers. My crown hums hot, blood-lightning crackling faint—afterglow of the fight.

His limbs were ripped from their sockets, torn apart piece by piece. “Ah,” I let out a sharp gasp watching the gruesome sight and then realizing it was no different from what Rowan wanted to do. This scene would be a ghastly feast for any vampire, a sight that was capable of satisfying their darkest and most depraved desires - blood. And yet, this was exactly the kind of slaughter that Rowan had been craving. “Are you alright?” Alpha Axel asked me suddenly, his eyes scanning my face. “Y-yes. I am,” came my reply, with an affirmative nod.

“If no one wants the labor, there is always the blood.” My stomach dropped at his words. The vampires around me immediately became interested again. The auctioneer continued, “And you know the quality we provide. Freshly collected, properly stored, and never kept longer than necessary. We make sure every bottle reaches you at its best.” The vampires began shouting again, trying to raise their voices over one another, but all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. So this was how humans lived here. This was what Mavros had refused to let me see.

She has no idea what trouble she’s in tasting so good. * * * The Travors Bloodline August 5th, 1716 Transcriber: Fredrick Yearn Maxwell George Barnett is born within the Freemore bloodline. Vampire Cornelius Herrington is the possessor of all individuals who belong within the stated bloodline. At the moment Maxwell is one of eight persons alive who can nourish their owner. Thankfully, vampire rules state that blood lettings cannot happen until the individual is no longer a child. March 17th, 1736

The notion stirred a quiet joy within me. Surrounded by our men, the Vampire stood in custody, his hands bound by cuffs that I knew were useless; he could simply transform into a bat and escape. I commanded my men to uncuff him, then reached out to Brock with a mental message: "Brock, a Vampire seeks Sanctuary. I'll meet you in your office—Is the team collecting the dead?"

This pull is strange, scary but amazing. The problem now is, how do I keep the most stubborn Vampire to ever exist safe without having a fight with her?

I accused, my voice trembling with hurt and betrayal. Drake's anguished cry pierced the air. "No, Yvonne, I would never betray you like that. I swear it," he pleaded, desperation evident in his voice. I stared at him, disbelief mingling with the pain in my heart. "Then how? How do you know about werewolves and vampires?" I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper. With a heavy heart, Drake approached me, his expression filled with sorrow. "I know who you are, Yvonne Brooks. The daughter of Arthur and Catherine Brooks, the heiress of the Moonlight Pack. I know that you're a werewolf," he confessed softly.

The first figure materialized out of a swirl of brimstone—tall, pale, and haunting. Aron, the vampire, moved with impossible silence, his eyes latched onto Eve's throat, his lips drawing back to reveal fangs. "You're not from here, pretty pet," he murmured, circling her like a vulture. Alexander, the incubus prince, descended from the sky like a dark feather, his eyes smoldering as he inhaled her scent. "But you will be," he added. Alexander brushed the back of his fingers over the breast of her dress, her nipple hardening as it reacted to his hand.