The Blood Catalyst

A/N

Before you even think of judging this book, read this first (insert puffing out emoji)

Yes I know after chapter one you want to say “this isn’t what I usually read” and ghost me like an emotionally unavailable love interest.

This book is different.

VERY different.

It’s not your typical "billionaire-signs-contract-with-a-sassy-virgin" or “he’s a cold billionaire CEO with a secret baby and a contract marriage” type of thing.

It’s also not “I was rejected by the alpha so now I’m mated to his evil twin who secretly rules the rogue kingdom” type of thing either.

No one made out with three alphas and now becomes the chosen Luna of the Blood Moon Pack thing either.

This is vampire romance meets teen drama meets messy characters making bad choices with their full chest. It does have high school drama, questionable friendships, and so much chaos, you’ll probably scream “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?!” at least once every chapter.

Think Twilight, but if the characters had TikTok, trauma, and more personality (actually idk, I read twillight when I was 11/12 so I've kinda forgotten most of it.)

Anywaysssss

Think Twilight, but not Twilight. You feel me?

We’re giving Twilight-core with chaos energy.

Now, before you rage quit after Chapter 1 and mutter “this ain’t it” and go back to reading about mafia daddies and rejected mates, I’m begging youuuu

Give me till Chapter 5.

Just five chapters. That’s all I ask (is that too much? ) Five lil bites of vampire drama before you decide whether to stay or block me emotionally.

If by then you still think this isn’t your jam, I’ll respectfully let you leave. No hard feelings and I won't be crying into my laptop at 3am bc it means you just have bad taste (jk, jk... Actually I'm not kidding).

But if you do stick around... welcome to the beautiful mess that is this story.

It’s dramatic, chaotic, and it’s a little bit insane but in a “you can’t stop reading” kind of way.

This book is my little chaos baby and I hope you love it even half as much as I do.

Hate you, kidding.

Love you, mean it (Yessss, Ginny and Georgia reference. Omlll guys I BAWLED MY EYES OUT this season)

Now turn the page (I'm compelling you with my vampire powers)

~ Lashes (who is currently running on three brain cells)

|•One•|

"Ethan Moreau, leading the race with at least three strides ahead!" the commentator yelled. The crowd was going crazy with cheers, but not as crazy as the Californians who loved the race going in favour of their state.

Zara watched him with a soft smile on her face. He was too good at his sport and handsome too. She glanced over at her father, who seemed so relaxed with his arms crossed while other coaches paced anxiously, shouting encouragements; hers simply watched, unshakable confidence in his stance. He knew his athlete was about to make history. The confidence he had as a coach that his athlete would win the 800m national finals was high.

"He is picking up the pace, and at 53.24 seconds, he has covered half of the journey!" the commentator called out. "And he is picking up the pace!"

The crowd went wilder with cheers. Zara's smile widened, and she clapped as well, feeling an odd sense of joy at this. She was not sure if it was her attraction to him or if she was happy that someone from her high school was winning the race.

"This looks too easy for him, he doesn't show any sign of weakness!" the commentator continued. "And—1:42.61! Ethan Moreau has shattered his own world record! Beating his previous time of 1:45.22! This is history in the making! The teenager who dethroned an Olympic champion last year has done it again! Ethan Moreau is not just an athlete. He’s a phenomenon! Definitely representing the country in the 2024 Olympic Games!"

The stadium exploded into chaos. The camera panned to Ethan as he slowed to a stop, barely winded, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as his coach rushed over to congratulate him. Reporters and cameras swarmed, officials scrambling to document the moment.

Zara exhaled, grinning. God, he was incredible. She watched as he ran his finger through his hair, moving it away from his face. He locked eyes with her, giving her a small wink, and she felt a blush creep onto her face. He never seemed particularly excited about winning the race, but Zara felt he always seemed excited to see her beside her father. As though he only cared about her presence. It sucked that their interactions after each race were nothing more than a smile and his usual wink. And other times they met at school—they barely ever conversed. It was nothing more than a nod in her direction.

He turned away from the cameras and raised his hand high, raising his brows at her. Nervously, she gave him a high five—feeling a tingling sensation travelling through her body.

"Ethan Moreau, how do you feel?" a reporter was asking, shoving a microphone in his face. Several others were doing the same, bombarding him with questions without waiting for him to answer.

Ethan hated this part of the race. He only enjoyed the experience—he barely did any work while others struggled to meet his pace. It was the only part of him that made him feel less of the monster that he was, running at an inhumanly human pace.

"I feel..." he trailed off, looking through the crowd of humans. "Very thirsty, for sure."

"Get him a water bottle," someone yelled in the crowd. His coach was handing one to him already.

"Thank you, coach," he muttered, downing the bottle in one gulp. He was thirsty, but not for water. He looked around the crowd once more, feeling a tingling sensation that was nowhere near comfortable. He wondered if he should just do it, but then, how many people did he want to compel at once?

The questions were getting louder now because he was no longer responding; rather, all his thoughts were concentrated on his bloodthirstiness. He swallowed hard and then exhaled, glancing towards the daughter of his coach once more. Her beautiful face was enough for him to stop thinking about his thirst.

But he didn't need to be attracted to anyone at the moment. It was too risky for what he was.

She caught his glance again and blushed, looking away.

+++++

The atmosphere inside the grand estate was the opposite of the stadium. Instead of the loud cheering noises of people clapping, it was tense and silent. The television screen in the lavish sitting room displayed the race’s conclusion.

Lorenzo Moreau leaned forward in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin. His expression was unreadable by anyone looking at him, but deep down he was discontent with what he was seeing on the screen of the television. The men standing behind him—trusted members of the Moreau Mafia—exchanged uneasy glances.

One of them, a sharply dressed man with slicked-back hair, cleared his throat. "Your son has just made history, sir. The world is watching."

Lorenzo's jaw tightened. "That’s exactly the problem."

"How do you feel?"

"Thirsty," came Ethan's reply. He was handed a bottle of water but looked at it with a discontentment only his father could see. Because his father knew he wasn't thirsty for water—he was thirsty for blood.

His gaze remained fixed on the screen, where Ethan was being hoisted onto the shoulders of celebrating teammates. His son had just become a global sensation. A face the world would remember.

"A face that will never age," Lorenzo murmured.

No one dared to speak.

For centuries, the Moreau family had mastered the art of blending seamlessly into human society while remaining unnoticed. They controlled businesses, influenced politics, and even dabbled in entertainment. But they never stayed in one place too long. Never let the humans get too familiar with them.

Every ten to fifteen years, they would move cities, start a new life and build their mafia in a different state, get a new identity by compelling important government officials to sign papers for them and also erasing past data, and then every hundred years, just for precautions, they would start in a different country.

And now Ethan had made that impossible.

"Do you have any idea how much of a problem this is?" Lorenzo’s voice was calm, but the underlying fury was unmistakable. "We've spent generations keeping our existence hidden. Now my son has ensured that his name and face will never be forgotten."

The man beside him hesitated before speaking. "Perhaps we could manipulate the narrative. Control the media—"

Lorenzo cut him off with a sharp look. "No. This isn't a story we can bury. The footage is everywhere. Ethan Moreau is now a legend, and legends don’t disappear. We can't compel the whole world to forget his face so easily."