Vampire Diary Cover Novels & Stories

he pulls off his shirt and his shorts, before laying himself next to me again. --------------- Dear Diary… Waking up to be told you are not in fact dying and that you are in heat was not what I thought I would be discovering today! Being a werewolf is messed up! Why do they have to make things so complicated?! This heat idea is fucked up. There is no other words for it. It is beyond uncomfortable. Painful. I just want to get it done with now.

It would be almost impossible to stop the vampires from advancing. I knew that it was more than just a fear of being sucked dry. It was more than just a fear of the vampires themselves. She was partly afraid of herself too. She was worried that the secret of her blood would be discovered. I couldn't promise her that it wouldn't be, but I would do everything I could to ensure that she was safe. I took the napkin that covered her hand and began to press hard down on the wound. I hoped that the pressure would staunch the blood seeping out of her hand. It wasn't that much blood. Hopefully, this simple amount of pressure would help. ###

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?

He reached the library and closed the door behind him. There, alone among the books, he allowed himself to breathe. The scotch decanter was still where he remembered it. He poured a finger's worth, didn't drink it. Instead, he opened the manila folder on the desk. Inside were recent surveillance photos. His men had taken them over the last few days. One showed the vampire near the paddocks. Female. Blonde. Pale enough to blend with the mist. Her eyes were ringed in red when the infrared filter was applied.

Victoria slid in beside her—careful, giving space, but close enough that Raven could feel the faint chill radiating from her skin. For a long time neither moved. Then Victoria reached out—slowly—and laced her small fingers through Raven’s. Cool palm against warm. Raven tensed, breath catching. Victoria wrote on the open diary page she’d left on the bedside table: *I won’t bite.* *Promise.* Raven read it. Exhaled. Slowly, she turned onto her side, facing Victoria. The vampire princess mirrored her—ruby eyes soft in the dim light. Raven wrote one last line before setting the diary aside:

I said as Cassian grabbed the journal once again. "Everything about vampires revolves around blood," Cassian continued. "So if Mother wants to tell us something in her diary, then our blood should activate it!" While Sylver stared between Cassian and me—still trying to understand what we were talking about, Cassian cut himself without blinking. Then he pressed his bleeding palm over the first empty page of the journal. We all held our breaths, watching as the first drops descended over the old pages. A bright light suddenly erupted through the journal like a silent fire had been set up.

Diana commented, raising her hand which was covered in black liquid. "Black...? Vampire...?" she said as she saw this man's injured arm which continued to emit a jet black liquid. “I think it's blood, and I think it's the color of blood that vampires have. There's no mistaking this... This is Raltz's territory, a part of the vampire world. But—” Diana paused her thoughts for a moment. “—I just found out vampires have blood too. I don't think they have it," thought Diana as she tore off her coat to make it into a bandage.

I place it on the table beside me and reach for the next. ‘Vampyres or Vampires? – An encyclopaedia of fact, fiction and food sources.’ The irony of the blood red lettering and dry humour of the title make me chuckle in spite of the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I move to place the heavy book on top of it’s witchy companion and my fingers tingle as they brush something on the back. “What have we here?” yes, I talk to myself on occasion.

I decided to finish it with a pair of blue tinted Bulgari sunglasses. As a vampire I needed no makeup but liked the look of glazed lips so I applied a deep burgundy gloss. I pulled back my golden brown natural that upon dying had twirled into coils that people spent hours trying to duplicate. I twisted it into a bun and then took a step back to admire myself.

MY DIARY, MY INFERNO. That was the title of what he was holding. And it was clear to her that it was not the diary of Dark Coll or any other prominent writer of literature. That diary, the one in leopard print, the one that had the same description that his teacher had told them a few days before and that he himself had held in his hands, Melia's diary. He couldn't help but keep his feline gaze on that diary. He wanted it, he wanted to be able to read it.