Venus Blood Ragnarok Novels & Stories

Not one strike. Dozens. The serpents vaporized in flashes of white fire, the forest erupting in cascading blasts. The shockwave hurled Ragnar backward, slamming him into the dirt. His vision blurred. His ears rang. Smoke choked the air. “Ragnar!” Raven’s voice sliced through the chaos. She dropped from the sky beside him, kneeling fast, her hands glowing as fire pressed into his chest, sealing burns, closing torn skin. Her face was pale beneath the silver light.

His chest ached for Ian. However, June felt like he was bringing light in those dark eyes only to take them away. "Venus, is there a way to heal this body from it's sickness?" June asked. [No, host. It is against the protocol of Hades Inc. Dead is decided and the body you are hosting is meant to die by the end of this year.] June covered his face and started crying. He felt the same complicated feeling claw him the last time he had took this mission. The body was going to die anyway, what's the point of making them fall in love?

I say. "For what she expended." Maret chooses her words carefully. Sets them down like objects she is placing on a surface she isn't sure will hold them. "What she carries, what was revealed tonight, it isn't something we have a reference for. Not in living memory. The Moonblood hasn't manifested fully in generations." She pauses. "She used a significant portion of it in a very short time. The shift. The fight. And then what she did for you." She says that last part without inflection.

This is the first time Ragnar speaks of a mate after Anabella's death. "I want you and Remus to be aware that it is difficult for her to survive. She urgently needs a transfusion, and as a hybrid, I must perform several tests before administering anything. However, I don't believe she has time for that entire protocol," Moreira says after clearing his throat. He knows that for an alpha like Ragnar and a grumpy wolf like Remus, hearing that is difficult, almost unacceptable, especially considering it's their second mate given by the moon goddess. They don't often have the fortune of being blessed a second time. "I will give her my blood," Ragnar says, lying down beside her and offering his ar

He is so happy because he will finally be able to escape this chaotic world and they will be able to fulfill the simple dream of Akira and his as a normal couple. When he arrived at the condo, he immediately took a shower first to be able to clean and to make sure if he hadn't been scratched before. As the water flows through his body you can see the blood of his victims clinging to him gradually flowing into the sink. Azrael’s body is full of scars from his wounds from his previous missions and on his back is a large tattoo— “Deus Mortis” which in Latin means “God of death” is what the organization called him because of the number of impossible missions he has accomplished.

I had watched him kill traitors and humans with a single slap, snapping their necks like twigs. Veyron leaned in. I met his eyes, and his frown deepened. "Close your eyes." I obeyed, shutting them tight, surrendering to the darkness. His lips met mine. The kiss was soft at first, then came his tongue and something metallic that tasted of vanilla and copper. I knew it instantly. Veyron's blood. He never bled unless he chose to. His blood was currency in our pack, harvested by scientists for healing syrups and pills that cured everything from infections to cancer. Taken directly, it granted rapid healing, surging energy, vitality that made the recipient feel reborn.

The curse was blocking their connection, feeding him false emotions. She was alone. "Obsidian wants me alive," Marina said, buying time. "You can't kill me." "True." Ragnar's smile widened. "But I can hurt you. Can make you wish you'd never broken our bond, never chosen that Bloodfang brute over me." He lunged. Marina dodged, her hybrid speed saving her from teeth that would have crushed her throat. She struck back, claws raking across Ragnar's shoulder, drawing first blood. The rogues surged forward, but Ragnar snarled them back.

He raised his right hand, curled his fingers into a rigid claw, and violently plunged it directly into his own chest. He bypassed his cybernetic enhancements, reaching deep into the ancient, biological core of his Sanguine heritage. With a agonizing gasp, Valerius ripped out a concentrated, pulsing sphere of pure, unadulterated Royal Vampire Blood. It glowed with a dark, suffocating crimson light. "Weaver!" Valerius roared, his voice carrying an ancient, terrifying resonance that pierced through the noise of the collapsing reality. "Access the hard drive!"

He bared his fangs, blood dripping from his shoulder as he forced his legs back under him, ready to spring again. "Rohan, don't move!" I screamed, my voice raw. I didn't have my full core back, but I had enough. I reached out, grabbing a heavy, broken chunk of the oak wardrobe from the floor. Forcing the sluggish, slow current of my witch blood into the wood, I threw it straight at her head. The magic didn't make it float; it just gave it a violent, unnatural velocity. Ravena flinched as the heavy wood clipped her cheek, tearing a thin line across her pale skin. The blood that leaked out wasn't red—it was a dark, shimmering violet.

what they are talking about isn't some normal capitalist bullshit. My eyes lock onto the document as they sign and toast to whatever selfish and inhumane cause they were all supporting. Anger skitters beneath my skin, my heart pounding in my ears. Dante Romano killed my father and traffics girls. How could I let myself forget? He's the reason I'm here in the first place. I'm here to ruin him. To kill him and to free all those girls. "We'll be leaving now." I flinch at Dante's arm snaking behind my waist. His lips graze my ear as he pulls me along.