Title: The Rivers Will Run Red
Series: House of Drǎculeşti
Author: Keira North
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 07/01/2025
Heat Level: 1 – No Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 81100
Genre: Paranormal, urban fantasy, dark, supernatural, immortal, vampires, shifters, werewolves, merfolk, MLM romance, found family, nonbinary character, Transylvania, Romania, Romanian mythology, folklore, #ownvoices: Romanian author, #ownvoices: nonbinary author
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Description
In the wake of a devastating attack by a rogue coven of vampires, hunter-turned-werewolf Ileana returns to the ruins of her family home. Believing her sister, Tamara, survived the attack, Ileana seeks the help of Liviu, the werewolf who turned her, and Evdochia, a hauntingly powerful vampire descended from Vlad Țepeș himself.
The attack is the first strike in a looming war threatening the fragile truce between humans and mythical nightwalkers. With time slipping away and danger closing in from all sides, Ileana and her allies must race to find Ravenswatch, the ancient fortress where the vampire coven is preparing to strike again.
The Rivers Will Run Red
Keira North © 2025
All Rights Reserved
There were two kinds of werewolves in this world, as far as Liviu was concerned: those who embraced who and what they were, and those who didn’t. The second kind were no better than mutts. They went through life with their tails tucked between their legs, hiding away when the moon was full and the beast blood took hold, an insult to those courageous few who were out and proud.
Well, as out and proud as it was sensible anyway. Being out-out cranked the odds of an untimely death almost all the way up. It wasn’t worth it.
Still, Liviu made the most of his nature-given endowments as man and wolf alike. He lived on the edge of Deva, where houses and alleyways melded into the thick forests and rolling hills surrounding the small town. He was on the shorter side as far as humans went, but also broad-shouldered with strong, muscular limbs and a preternatural endurance that made him especially adept at physical work. He did the odd job here and there to keep up the human appearances and roamed the wilderness when he felt the call of the wolf, which was often.
When he was in town, Liviu split his time between a select few eateries and a watering hole called the King’s Pub, where he went whenever he was in search of a mate for the night. With his chestnut-colored curls and green-bronze eyes, he didn’t have to try very hard to woo anyone so long as he didn’t talk too much. Most women found him attractive. Some men did, too, and some of those men interested him in turn. He rarely, if ever, struck out; lust carried its own scent, both sultry and sweet, so all he had to do was follow his nose.
Liviu had been out on the prowl tonight. King’s Pub had just opened its back garden for the season, and there was no better time to kick back and savor a pint in the chilly spring air. The grass was freshly cut, the earth moist and fragrant, and the more offensive smells he typically associated with the place—most of which had to do with too many patrons and too much drink—had yet to manifest. His mood was, well, not walking-on-sunshine happy, but he was feeling agreeable toward the world tonight, so he could maybe picture himself bringing someone home later, or several someones; he wasn’t picky. The folks around the bar were getting lively, and it was only eight or so. The fun crowd usually woke up around this time.
He’d have to put a pin in that, though, because his exquisitely tuned nose had just informed him that another werewolf had wandered onto his turf, the first one in…he couldn’t remember how long. Local werewolves tended to gather elsewhere, places where Liviu hadn’t been welcome in years. King’s Pub, on the other hand, was his domain, and this newcomer would have to either explain themselves or find somewhere else to drink.
He followed their scent to a small, rickety table in the back, the kind that made one hold on to their pint so it wouldn’t end up in their lap. Seated at the table was a woman of around thirty (he was being generous) wearing a faded leather jacket, jeans, and boots, and smelling of diesel fuel and the open road. Her dark hair was choppy and uneven, and her thick eyebrows were drawn together like she was trying to stare her pint into submission.
Liviu dropped into the seat across from her without bothering to ask, then said, “You’re a long way from home.”
“And you’re about five seconds away from a broken nose.” The woman looked up from her drink—her eyes were the color of weathered ink—and added, levelly, “Werewolf or not.”
So, she’d smelled him too. The corners of his lips pulled up in a smirk.
“You know what I am, so let’s cut the bullshit,” he said, letting a little growl into his voice. “You’re on my turf. I wanna know what for.”
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Keira North is a queer, nonbinary, Romanian author living in Montreal. They use storytelling as a medium to explore their heritage and identity and strive to be the change they want to see in the (literary) world. When they’re not writing, they like to make music, play video games, and read copious amounts of fanfiction and indie works.
Website | Instagram | Bluesky
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