Venus Blood Ragnarok Novels & Stories

And she was in his blood like venom. After Nate finally bowed and left, Ragnar reached for the decanter of dark spiced wine and poured until the goblet overflowed. He slumped onto the velvet-black couch near the hearth, his body heavy with restraint. The fire crackled lazily, shadows dancing against stone, but even that warm glow couldn’t thaw the ache spreading through his chest. He tipped the goblet back. The wine burned on the way down, bitter and warm, but it did nothing to dull the gnawing hunger inside him.

Today we celebrate the joining of two souls into one. The elder grabbed the chalice and splashed it towards where Nikolai and I stood. I flinched, expecting the blood to splatter us, but to my amazement, the blood swirled around us. It was odd because while I had witnessed the elder mixing the blood together you could now tell that the blood had come from two individuals. I tried to recall the times I had seen Nikolai’s blood, trying to determine if it had been different than mine, but every time I pictured it, it was the same dark red color. One swirl of blood was a deep red color with flickers of tungsten appearing throughout it. I could tell that this was Nikolai’s blood. Tungsten was a s

Her mark is fading even more quickly now. I sink my teeth even further into her neck, driving my werewolf venom from my bite into her bloodstream, and just as the venom makes contact with her, her eyes shoot open, glowing gold, and she lets out the most blood curdling scream I have ever heard. But I can’t retract. I need this to work. She CANNOT leave me yet!! I growl deeply and bring Ragnar to the surface with me and I hear gasps from Tobias, Leon and Ricardo. But I can’t focus on them.

They knew this wasn't from the Blood rogue, because why go for two random people? The next day, Astrid is brought to be killed. During the ritual that would lead up to her death, Ragnar is really uncomfortable. He hated her, but she was also the new mate the new goddess had given him. The moment it was time for Astrid to be killed, Ragnar would stand up and interrupt, just then, the full-moon gets to it's highest peak and Astrid begins to turn. Astrid wolf is a rare one and fits the exact description that the prophetess gave to Ragnar concerning the Savior.

“Who’s that?” He followed my gaze, and his face went hard, a flicker of recognition darkening his eyes. “Veyra,” he growled. “Ragnar’s sister.” My blood ran cold. Ragnar’s sister. She wasn’t just here for revenge—she was leading this. Her eyes locked onto me, and that smile widened, sending a shiver down my spine. She raised a hand, and the Bloodfangs shifted, a group peeling off to circle us, cutting us off from the pack.

'Flee, Rhea'" The sound of my father, Draven, bounced between the leafless branches. There I was, back when I was young, dashing through dark fog that slithered low on the earth. That sickness had its own way of moving, not like fever or cough, but more like something starved, draining green from trees and warmth from fur, turning wolves hollow. One after another, those I’d grown up with dropped. No wounds opened. Just bodies shrinking, cracking like brittle parchment, sight fading as though some unseen force tugged their inner fire downward into silence. Yet this time, the dream felt off. Before, terror had locked my attention straight ahead, now, without choice, my eyes lifted skyward. Up

The air inside reeks of rust, blood, and wolfsbane. Every breath burns my lungs, but I keep going, following the faint pull of the bond. The closer I get, the stronger it becomes. My chest tightens painfully. She’s here and she’s in pain. I rush through a narrow hallway, the floor creaking under my paws. Then I see an open door, light spilling through the room and into the hallway. I near it and my gaze falls on Venus. She’s in Bronze’s arms, limp and unconscious. Her clothes are torn, her skin covered in bruises and blood. There’s a gas in the middle of her chest.

To claim. Raven gasped—soundless, but felt in the arch of her back, the tightening of her fingers in Victoria’s armor. The bite was sharp, then warm, then something deeper—ancient magic stirring, blood calling to blood. Victoria drank for only a heartbeat—long enough to taste Raven’s life, her strength, her love—then pulled back. Blood welled at the twin punctures. Victoria reached down, drew Raven’s dagger from her belt—the small blade she had given her months ago—and pressed it to her own throat.

I had intended to break her, to firmly remind her who exactly she married but the moment she stood over Gerald, cold and completely unbothered about the pooling blood, something stupid snapped inside me, she looked so damn good playing the boss. And then this bitch broke my nose, I touched the bridge of my nose, wincing slightly as a fresh throb of pain shot through my face. I pulled over at the secure yard a few blocks away from the warehouse, stepping into the cool night air, I washed the blood from my face and stripped out my ruined shirt, staring into the cracked mirror of the locker room, I looked deep into my own eyes. Rowan Moretti had officially declared war, he had shot my brother,

The summer house stood hushed and torn, A grave of ash where truth was born. The rain fell softer now, subdued, As if the sky itself had rued The violence carved into the night, The cost of power, blood, and fight. Giovanni knelt upon the ground, Her hands still steady, though chaos crowned. Russell’s blood ran warm and fast, A crimson echo of the past.