BlueBlood Saga: Book one 'The Fallen Moon'
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  • Parts 15
  • Time 4h 5m
  • Reads 100
  • Votes 1
  • Parts 15
  • Time 4h 5m
Ongoing, First published Apr 06, 2020
Mature
Love can be called many things, but it can't be called lust. She was just a little girl when the end of human reign was lost. She could've never imagined that she'd never see the sun again. Humanity has fallen into the hands of beings far more brutal and unforgiving. What she could never have imagined was being in the arms of the one who's caused her kind so much pain. 

He saved her yet condemned her to suffer in silence. How can she stand by the side of an immortal ruler? The world she once knew is now merely a fragment of her memories.

 "Where's mommy?!" I cried looking up to the two men who held me still. 

The guards didn't look at me; they kept their inhuman eyes straight ahead while the doctors proceeded to inject me with vaccinations. Finally they put a chip in my left thigh, a chip that I wasn't informed of. 

"Daddy! I want Daddy! I want my Daddy please!" I pleaded eagerly wanting someone to speak as my eyes became sore. I was exhausted and the salty solution that spilled from my eyes somehow seemed to give me an ache. 

The blonde teen looked away from me for a moment taking a glass of Armand de Brignac. His eyes followed the champagne as it swirled in the glass to his will. 

"I have no intention of harming you. Your mother and father are... Gone so to speak." 

He took care of her, made her strong, so what's the catch? He's got his hands wrapped around her heart, and now around her body. Genesis Rose, her blueblood vampiric master has his own intentions of why he wanted a specific human. For what does he want her for? Surely it cannot only be out of love.  His brother's heart burns for the girl yet her's only seems to burn for Genesis, the man who has her species in chains.
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Reaping The Red Heir by eden_ari
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He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*
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Reaping The Red Heir

53 parts Ongoing Mature

He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*