Wolfenstein Old Blood Chapters Novels & Stories

The city lights flickered in the distance, a deceptive beauty that mocked the darkness within me. As the alcohol slid down my throat, bitter and sharp, my mind drifted—no, it was yanked—back to that night. The night that shattered everything. The house had been eerily silent when I returned, an unnatural stillness that made my wolf stir uneasily. The scent of blood hit me first—thick, metallic, suffocating. I remember how my steps faltered, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed the door open. They were everywhere. My family. My brothers. My mother. My father. Their bodies lay sprawled across the grand hall, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. Blood pooled beneath them, painting the m

***TRIGGER WARNING: Up until now, this story has been fairly tame. From this point forward, Wolfblood takes a dark turn. For those who read the first book of the series, Wolfbane, this book is much darker and deals with more serious, real-world issues. If you prefer light-hearted romances without violence, I advise you not to continue. If, however, you enjoy thrilling werewolf romance novels, please continue with Wolfblood! I promise it's worth the ride.***

“Because I know what it’s like to be watched by everyone.” The words cracked something in me. The arrogance was gone for that heartbeat, stripped bare to something raw. I didn’t push. I just turned back to the shelves. And then I saw it. A yellowed page was tucked between the heavy books, its faded ink still clear enough to read. My hand shook as I pulled it free. The title was scrawled at the top in jagged letters: First Blood. My eyes scanned the words, fragments only. Before wolves, before oaths, there was the First. Blood that commands, blood that binds. Not beast, not man, but both. The source. The curse.

If this was what he went through to get information, then I quit. I couldn’t keep up. I shoved the remaining books away, ready to give up. “I’d just let him do it himself then—” My words halted as my eyes landed on an older book. I hadn’t even noticed it until now. Slowly, I pulled it closer and flipped through the pages until I reached the section I cared about. “…Capturing a vampire… capable of hurting a daywalker… the pure woods…” My wolf leapt inside me as the words echoed in my head.

asked Leora later. Eleanor then began to tell the history of their family who inherited the holy blood for generations. This sacred blood is the blood indispensable to the vampire family. They need this holy blood for the survival of their offspring. There aren't many vampire families left, but they definitely exist and are always looking for Leora's whereabouts. Because only a handful of people still have this sacred bloodline. Although it is heavy and difficult to understand, but Leora tries to understand what her grandmother is telling her. She nodded and listened to what Eleanor said.

"Father, look at him! He’s going to give her the robes from the old chests!" "Silence!" Bram roared, and this time the whole hall went completely dead. A boy dropped a jug by the door, the metal rolling across the stone before anyone dared to move. My father’s eyes went small and dark, until he looked like the old wolf that took the high seat during the Great Frost. "You talk about the bloodline like you built these walls yourself, boy. You have nothing but what I leave on the bench when my knees go stiff."

Every step sank into damp, rotting earth that smelled of decay and old blood. My wolf paced frantically inside me, her warnings growing louder. She’s there. Closer. Waiting. I pushed on, vines brushing my skin like warm, living flesh. I had to find her—the memory-tampering witch. Ancient werewolf histories spoke of forbidden chapels where dark witches hid. I remembered the stories. I had no choice. The trees finally parted. An old, crumbling chapel rose ahead like a broken tombstone. Stone walls were cracked and blackened. Moonlight poured through shattered stained-glass windows, casting twisted images of howling wolves in agony across the ground. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me.

Meanwhile, Chloe gave birth to a pup with pure golden fur, and suddenly her home was overflowing with admirers praising her husband’s powerful bloodline. Humiliated, Damian turned vicious. He berated me constantly, furious that he hadn’t chosen Chloe instead. In the Alliance, werewolf bloodlines fell into four ranks: Omega Black Werewolves, Beta Gray Werewolves, Alpha Silver Werewolves, and Golden Lycans. Each rank was divided further into low, average, and high categories.

I will never know if he abandoned us or my mother abandoned him. And... I will never get a chance to see that beautiful darkness in his eyes again. In that moment, I suddenly felt a strange thing all over my body. I could feel the heat inside, it felt as though I was burning. It felt strange yet somehow very familiar. Warmth from that burning feeling. Warmth from fire. Then I opened my eyes. My oppressor was couple of meters away, wild and ready to attack. But what surprised me was the reflection I saw in the werewolf's eyes.