Universal Monsters: Eternal Bloodlines Novels & Stories

Steele immediately turned toward him. "Don't." Lucian ignored him. "Your mother carried a bloodline that had been thought extinct." I frowned. "What bloodline?" "The bloodline of the First Wolf." I stared at him. "The what?" Elena gasped. Steele looked at her. "Elena." She lowered her gaze. Lucian continued. "Long before our clans had names, there were creatures who could cross the boundaries between species. They could heal like wolves, move like vampires, and possess abilities neither side could understand."

"The World Serpent. They are older than your throne. Older than mine." "Legend says they were alchemists. Sorcerers. They sought the 'Blood of the Earth' to live forever." "They aren't legends," Jackson said grimly. "My uncle Arthur is one of them. And he is mutated." "Listen to me, Sterling," Frederick looked Jackson in the eye with unexpected seriousness. "You Americans fight with money and guns. The Ouroboros fights with shadows and blood magic. You cannot kill them with bullets." "How do I kill them?" Jackson asked.

"Mary Hart, my bloodline has been watching you since your wolf awakened. We debated whether to reveal ourselves or stay hidden. But seeing what you have accomplished, seeing how you fight for people even at the cost of yourself, we decided it was time to stop hiding. The Crescent Moon Bloodline stands with you against Dr. Torres and anyone else who threatens the future you are building." She left before I could respond, and I sat alone in my office processing the fact that two supposedly extinct bloodlines had emerged in the past two months. How many others were out there? How many royal bloodlines had survived The Covenant's purges by hiding so deep that even ancient enemies thought them de

“You don’t even know me.” “You keep saving me ,” I say. “That’s enough for tonight .” The stained-glass windows explode inward . Omaras (face shredded from my claws, still bleeding) and Sorrel drop through, followed by twenty elite vampires in black armor. “Found you,” Omaras growls, touching his ruined cheek. “This face is permanent, hybrid. I’m going to wear yours next.” Adrian steps in front of me, blade out . “Over my dead body .”

He has been down here for four hours, which is nothing, which is routine, which is what he tells himself. The blood-sense has been smoking for eleven days. Two hundred and sixty-three years he's had it. Since the night in 1762 when a woman named Elise, who turned him against his own considered wishes in a Viennese cellar during the Seven Years' War, pressed her wrist against his mouth and said, you'll understand in a moment, and he did. He understood immediately. He felt his bloodline snap into place the way you feel a map unfold — the specific geography of everyone who had ever come from Elise, and everyone who had come from them, a web of thirty-seven souls distributed across Europe like s

The only thing they don’t know for sure is how many individuals they have harmed. Their foes, the red-eyed werewolves, are more than evil creatures. They were exclusively interested in human blood. They’ve been at odds with them for thousands of years. Every generation grows in strength, and there are more and more of them. “We need to be extremely cautious, dad,” Lawrence stated. “The mountains in this area are their only option for living.” Not that I don’t trust you, son, but I didn’t make the mistake of spying on William at your school,” Greco said after a moment’s contemplation.

Red ran down to another part of Central and hid them in a cave. He is going to use them to fulfil all his purpose someday. Which is; power, kingdoms. The monkeys scavenge their says through the camp to the city and start attacking Central. The witches and wolves blamed the vampire for their creatures. Because the monkey seems to develop wings like a bat, red eyes and long canine. The wolves and the vampires ganged up and started a Battle with the vampires. The battles last for longer months as 70 Percent of Central was almost destroyed with countless people dead.

And not just any magic—bloodline magic, the kind that left a mark in the air long after the fire died. Only one clan had ever carried that kind of power. The White Wolves. The Rosewood Clan. Darian Rhadamanthys Draven—Alpha King, ruler of the Obsidian Moon Pack—stood atop the cliffs of the ancient stone circle, overlooking the ruins his ancestors had once sworn to protect. His hands were clenched behind his back, but tension rolled off his shoulders like heat. Someone had invoked old power. Without his permission. Without his knowledge. And worse? They’d done it under his nose.

"Stories my father told me when I was a little boy. About a special kind of blood. A bloodline that was closer to the Moon Goddess than any Alpha." He stopped at a corner that was covered in spiderwebs. He pulled out a very thin, very old book. It didn't have a title on the front. He laid it down on a wooden table and beckoned me over. "Look," he said. I leaned in. The pages were yellow and crumbly. There were drawings of wolves with silver fur and eyes that looked like stars. The writing was in a language I didn't know, but the pictures told a story. They showed these special wolves protecting the world from dark things. They were called the Lunar Bloodline.

Then, softer, almost unwillingly, “But history has been wrong before.” She paced once, restless. “There were whispers. Bloodlines thought extinguished. Children born outside the pack. Hidden in plain sight. Marked but unclaimed.” She stopped in front of me. “If this were a mistake,” she said, her voice darkening, “the power would have rejected you. It would have torn you apart.” My chest tightened. Fear crawled up my spine. “I’m scared.” Mira’s eyes locked onto mine. “The wolves you saw,” she said slowly, “silver, gold, red, black… those are not pack wolves. Those are ancient aspects. Guardians of bloodlines long buried.”