Youngblood Chronicles Novels & Stories

Kian pried her mouth open and poured a vial of wolfsbane-infused water down her throat. Then he handed one to their father, their mother, and finally, to himself. Afterward, he grabbed the canister of gasoline by the door and spilled it across the room as Leila began to scream. Kian pressed the lighter, and flames ignited instantly. “You’re insane! All of you! Let me out! I don’t want to die!” Kian sat quietly, letting the fire consume his body. He stared at her struggling form and asked calmly, “The four of us together, forever. Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

“Hey, Cali.” I turned in my seat, eyeing the young man who had sidled up to my side. “Hey, YB.” I gave him a smile. “You doing ok?” His eyebrows shot up as he chuckled. “Hey, that was going to be my line.” “Sorry.” I gave a small shrug. YB was young. Younger than me by several years and from what Truth had told me, been hanging around the club since he was fourteen. Desperate to patch in. Which he had done only a year ago. The youngest patched member they had. Hence the name Young Blood.

All he could do now was to wait for blood. In a minute, Olivia appeared with two red packets. Sitting beside Beau, she opened and brought the packet near his mouth. Though he hesitated for a few seconds, he staring gulping the blood hastily in the next second. [How was I able to control my thirst near the open and fresh wound? 100-years old Albert wasn't able to, how could I? What was the illusion that I had?] Thinking of every moment he saw in the deja-vu, he completed the whole packet. Every sip, he had bulged out his body, indicating satisfaction from each body part. The black lines that surrounded the body vanished gradually. Completing the packet, he tried to stand up but failed.

Dad's fingers trembled as he tried to open it, but he kept missing the button. Finally, Uncle Arnold reached over with a shaky hand and tapped it for him. The image was taken under the harsh light of a flashlight. The background was a stark landscape of white snow and black rock. Curled up in the snowdrift was a livid, purple-blue figure. His thin windbreaker was torn to shreds, exposing a gaunt, bony back beneath. The person's face was buried in the snow, his expression impossible to make out. But his hand—raised high, frozen mid-air—was clenched around a half sheet of blood-stained paper in a death grip.

So you had said about late winter over there. The doctor looked up at him. Yes, in the hall, said Marcus. “I didn’t mean to listen in. It just caught my attention.” The physician was indecisive, and he nodded. “Yes. It was late winter, which would be in line with what we are seeing.” Marcus’s throat went dry. “Late winter as in… February?” “Roughly,” the doctor said. “At the end of January or the beginning of February, more or less.”

As a result, the magical potion could tell if they were descended from the witch lineage or the dark sorcerer bloodline. The Wheel of Time signifies the constant spinning of time and reflects nature's cycles of death and rebirth. The celebrations begin on the longest night of the year and culminate in the celebration of the lengthening days and the return of the light at the end of the festivity. The gatherings lasted twelve days, during which time the twenty young witches feasted, burned Yule logs, and congregated at the secret sanctuary.

I said and she smirked. “Then you should ask about her to me,” she said. “Wait. How the hell did you gather her information in such a small time???” “I have my ways,” she said and handed me a paper. “Look!!!” I took a look. “Evelyn Frost, age 17, a bitch, always clings to rich guys and leaves them when she'd had enough" "Wait. That's exactly what I wanted to read, because, I knew she isn't right, but, where did you get this information?"

Sighing, I lower myself under the umbrella, and onto the chair, getting comfortable. “I’m going to get us some drinks, be right back.” He looks around as if expecting someone to pop up and then quickly disappears. I wring my hands nervously and stare at the scene in front of me. Everyone seemed so comfortable around each other, laughing and talking animatedly about things I could possibly never understand. The night was young I guess, as boys flipped into the pools, the loud music also overbearing. I hope someone calls the cops. Why do high school students even host parties? What’s the point?

The men nodded and a few women blushed. "Alpha, I want to be turned. Can I do that today?" Jane spoke up. She had been obsessed with turning. He looked at her curiously. "How old are you?" "I am 17," she replied. "Sorry kid, you are underage. Just wait for a year, by then you will either find your mate and be turned by him. If not, I will command someone to turn you." Jane looked disappointed. "And you will go back to the packhouse with the rest of the juveniles after the barbecue. You are too young to be part of the pack run." He added.

So we walked across the dimly lit room, filled with half-naked girls and horny, money-grubbing men, and sat down at one of the tables, where one of the waiters soon came over to serve me a whiskey and her a martini. A lot of things were happening in Juliane's life. She had finally managed to save enough money to buy her own house and she seemed very excited about it, although I couldn't concentrate on even half of what she said. My mind insisted on taking me back to Ravena. I could clearly visualize her lying on that bed, half-naked, beautiful, full of desire. It was definitely in her arms that I wanted to be, but I shouldn't. I needed to do the right thing, which was to stay away from her,