Thin Blooded Novels & Stories

"We'll figure it out. The ritual, the Blood-Weavers, all of it." "You heard Starwyn," Thalen said, finally raising his head. His ice-blue eyes looked exhausted, the fierce arrogance replaced by a raw, naked vulnerability that startled Zeyric. "Twenty years ago, a student died from this. What makes you think we're special enough to beat it?" "Because she didn't have us," Zeyric said, offering a small, crooked smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. "She only had herself. We've got twice the mana pool and twice the stubbornness."

On the third night after Seraphina Vale—the academy's most envied beauty—took her own life, a blood ledger appeared out of nowhere in the abandoned chapel of St. Ophelia's Academy. Rumor had it that if you left a blood print on it, the ledger would grant your deepest wish. At first, nobody bought such a ridiculous story. Until Vivian Cross—all two hundred and twenty pounds of her—shakily made her choice: beauty. She dropped the weight overnight. Her features turned so delicate people couldn't look away. Just like that, she became the academy's new obsession. After that, no one called the blood ledger bad luck anymore. Dorian Blackwood chose his future, and the Black Council's recommendation

Chapter 1 Thirst clawed at her throat while her stilettos clicked a steady thrum against the pavement. The hunger for blood had been building within her core for days, and Cybill needed to feed on flesh more than she needed air to breathe. Her warm hazel eyes were rimmed with crimson…it was time.

Alejandro Alejandro Something closes up inside me. My throat feels immediately heavy as coldness starts spreading through me. A sudden frost I never expected to feel again after… Katerina’s gaze is unyielding. She looks closed off, the shadows under her eyes deep and final. Her arms are crossed at her chest as if she’s trying to defend herself, to keep her distance. From me?

Giselle sighs, massaging her temples. There's no other way she could survive this, so she shuts her textbook, organized her writing materials inside her pencil cases, and placed it all inside her bag. Giselle pulled her iced coffee and started sipping on it. She runs her finger on the leaked water from her cold cup. "No, I don't believe in them. We're no longer twelve," Giselle ridicules, rolling her eyes in absurdity. Her eyes trailed to her surroundings while Yvonne began to tackle more about bloodsucking demons until Giselle found something that caught her attention. Mr. Mercado placed newly made tiramisu crepe cake, the ones that she loves.

"The Bloodmoon rises in three days. You know what that means." I do. Every forty days, Vorrak's face burns brighter, and the night becomes a hunting ground for things that should stay hidden. The cursed, the moonbound, the creatures that thrive on desire and violence. It's a night when the smart stay indoors with their doors locked and their prayers whispered to Irethiel for protection. But I've never been particularly smart. "I'll be fine," I say, brushing past her toward the path that leads back into the village. "I'm always fine."

"A mixture of Thorne resilience and Blackwood pride. But it’s unstable. Without the 'Genesis' marrow to act as a stabilizer, the human heart eventually... pops." He turned his gaze toward a woman at the far end of the table—the CEO of a major tech conglomerate. She stood up and pulled back her sleeve, revealing a series of blue, glowing veins that were "vibrating" beneath her skin. She looked at Silas with a look of pure, unadulterated hunger.

Their Lord was the truest and first vampire in existence, one who had lived long before the millennium. An entity whose origin was unknown, who lived without aging; time fades, but he doesn’t. Though he has been in slumber for 1,000 years, waiting for the one they call the Holy Maiden. Butler Thomas doubted such a person even existed. Could the prophecy be mistaken? He wondered when his master would awaken from slumber. Would he wake up at all? It had been so long. Butler Thomas hoped Miss Salmon hadn’t noticed the coffin; he wouldn’t want to harm that innocent, lovely girl just to keep the secret from spreading.

It was the Introduction to the Neighborhood. ​The Day of the Open Blood ​On the surface, the "First Day of the Third Edition" was a quiet, internal revolution. Because the Genetic Scriptorium had unlocked the "History of the Blood," the old social hierarchies of the Thorne-Vane era had collapsed in an afternoon. You couldn't lie about your "Credit" when your DNA carried the holographic record of every kindness and every betrayal your ancestors had ever committed.

VALERIA The book fell from my hands and landed on the floor with a thud. The last time I was this petrified was when I was hiding, watching my parents being murdered. And I felt like because all things were pointing towards the same thing happening to me, getting killed by a werewolf that hated the existence of vampires for some reason. The feeling of someone touching my shoulder had me jerking away, triggering my instinct to fight. But it was just Marcello's concerned face that I saw when I turned. His eyebrows were furrowed as he observed me carefully, then he asked,