Thin Blooded Novels & Stories

The chiming of a clock sounded from out in the hallway. "But what the fae hadn't realised is that a wolf's strength is dependent on their environment. My lands are dangerous; even the weaker creatures could take down a wolf. As a result, my wolf is different." He paused, swirling his drink, "for a long time, I desperately tried to hide him because my people were terrified of what we might do. On my nineteenth birthday, I woke up to find that I had slaughtered my entire court." A log cracked in the grate, and Sapphira twitched her whole body tense.

He leaned back, his long hair flowing over his shoulders like a cascade of night, seemingly unfazed by the emptiness around him. A chill ran down my spine as I noticed the small silver chain he was playing with, his fingers moving with a practiced grace that made my heart race. Summoning my courage, I walked over, the creaky floorboards beneath my boots echoing in the stillness. This was my chance to connect with someone who, like me, seemed to exist outside the norm.

Finally around 10am his phone started ringing. “Hello! What did he say?” Aiden practically yelled at his father through the phone. “Well good morning to you to son, I slept great thank you for asking.” Arthur responded sarcastically, “the doc said he has to have some werewolf blood but she might be a Half Blood. It’s very rare since most werewolves stick to their own kind, but there have been a few one night stands or even short relationships between humans and werewolves. Once in a while a half blood will be the product of that. We think your mate must have grown up as a human. Her mom may not have even known that she had slept with a werewolf let alone gave birth to one.”

Despite not choosing to be a pure-blooded vampire, I was born that way. My mother, who was a human hunter and fighter, caught the attention of a pure-blood vampire a hundred years ago due to her strength. However, since she was a human three generations before me, she has already passed away, leaving behind cells that carry a hereditary trait. These cells determine if a pure-blood vampire is born and cause my father excruciating pain, as if he were giving birth. Additionally, they manifest as tattoos on my body, initially appearing faint but becoming more prominent as I age. This is why I can walk during the day despite the intense sunlight. In contrast, servant vampires, who are only bitten

Shane got up and had not taken two steps when Cleo Lovelace said coldly behind him, “She has golden blood just like you. In this world, apart from a few people from the Lovelace family, those with golden blood are byproducts of failed experiments. You should understand the importance of people naturally born with golden blood to our Lovelace family.” Shane huffed, put his hands in his trouser pockets, and said lightly, “I know. To be honest, I really want to have a taste of the golden blood of this cousin of mine. I want to know the quality of the golden blood she has.”

He lunges, the blade slicing through the air, aimed at my chest, just above my right breast. I recoil, anticipating the agony. The knife bites deep, and I wince my vision blurring. My blood spills, warm and crimson, sliding down my torso. Denzel's eyes gleam with sadistic pleasure. With a twisted grin, he slits open his own rotting hand, revealing festering flesh. He presses his wounded hand against mine, mingling our skin. I scream as my blood blends with his skin, feeling an eerie presence invade my body. It's as if dark entities are awakening within me.

I was stabbed so many times that I lost count. Right before I blacked out, I heard my sister-in-law, Maeve Cohen, laugh manically at me. "Honestly, I'm not any worse than you in looks or education. Why did you get to marry the handsome, rich brother? He's long gone, and after you’re dead, all you have will be mine!" I died unwillingly under her triumphant laughter. Maybe fate took pity on how unfair everything was. I was given one more chance.

He knit the bone, closed the skin, and started again. He turned to drowning her in the thermal springs until her lungs burned with sulfur, then bleeding her until her heart stuttered, only to jump start her life with a jolt of raw power. A thousand nights. A thousand deaths. Each one was more inventive, more intimate, more agonizing than the last.

Elena stood alone in the hallway, her pulse hammering, the ghost of Mateo’s grip and Dante’s warning branding her skin. She had come to find a killer in a den of vipers. But she was beginning to understand: the nest wasn't just threatened by an outsider. It was already poisoning itself from within. And she, the interloper, was now trapped in the middle of a silent, vicious war she didn't yet understand, her only lifeline, a man who saw her as both a weapon and his greatest vulnerability.

This sentiment is quite understandable, as their lineage lacks werewolf genes, unlike the Valentines and the other retired families known as true-blood hunters. These true-blood hunters possess the coveted werewolf genes that set them apart. In contrast, families like The McKnights and the current hunters within the bureau fall into the category of Lesser Hunters. These Lesser Hunters were once fully human but have acquired supernatural abilities, somewhat akin to those of the true-bloods, through the use of Talismans. While they may not match the true-bloods in strength, they still manage to get the job done.