A Blood Story Novels & Stories

Don’t ever say that! I anxiously gazed at the messy blood and dirty white stain in a white bedsheet. Blood… Shit. “You’re not a V I R G I N anymore.” @DeathWish If you are interested the read TAMING THE DANGEROUS CEO, you may search it in the search bar. Available in two language, Tagalog and Englis. Thank you so much!

she spat. The family wouldn't let her leave, but she had bodyguards, so she just walked out. By then, the family had had enough and stormed my in-laws' house. When I got home, they wouldn't hear any of my explanations and stabbed me dozens of times. I collapsed into a pool of blood, every inch of me cut. My father was devastated when he heard about it. He couldn't believe I would do something like that, so he launched his own investigation. Maeve found a team to make the story blow up online.

Not only spoiling fawaz but many kids too, she loves children. She thought maybe when she is nice to them she will get her own bundle of joy running around the house. She served herself and Khadija in the same plate, sipping the cold drink. She thought about her mother. She missed her so much, her mother died due to anaemia and since then nafisa has been researching on the disease . "Hey, you seem out"Khadija said acknowledging her cousin's mood. Nafisa shrugged it off with a nothing which came out barely as a whisper. They ate the food in silence.

“You believe you lose your blood because you have money?” His jaw tightened slightly. “My parents died, and it is people like you who made my voice shake,” I said. “People who determine that others are irrelevant.” The guards came nearer, and they caught my arms. "Take her," Dino said. Trying to turn my head back to look at him, I was pulled by them towards the door. “It is no use killing me and washing your blood,” I said. Dino hesitated, the first time in a long time. "Wait," he said suddenly.

I barely knew how she did what she did myself, but something told me it had something to do with the copious amounts of her blood I could smell on her. "That wasn't natural, Sol," Serin said softly. I knew he was trying not to anger me. He didn't want to insult Mia, but his confusion was understandable. "Don't you remember the old stories?" "The old stories?" Sarah asked as she looked up at both of us. "Fictional stories," I stressed to both of them. "Bedtime stories our mothers would tell us." "They were cautionary tales, Sol, of half-bloods who could wipe out entire villages and kingdoms if they chose to."

“When I was younger, I was in a car accident with my parents. It was your mother who saved me, but she didn’t get there in time to save my parents. Her blood brought me from the brink of death, and all it took was a small drop. She had told me what her blood meant when she gave it to me, but I didn’t remember until the day that I felt her calling for help.” “What did it mean for her to give you her blood?” I leaned forward, placing my glass down, as I became intrigued with the story. “I don’t know all the details, but her blood healed me. Afterward, I owed her a blood debt that would connect me to her until the day I repaid it.” Axton continued. Without realizing I had done it, I wrapped my

She motioned between us at the invisible but very real, thick, tangy power. “How did he do it?” I asked. “How was it supposed to be done?” I added, unsure if those questions were the same or not. “You open it with blood,” she responded. “Why does it always have to be blood?” I knew I sounded annoyed. She laughed, it was deep and rich and as beautiful and warm as she was. “Blood is powerful,” she stated. “It tells the story of those that came before us, it is filled with love and loss and history.”

“I didn’t want to ask him outright about Veronica, so I pretended that I was studying Media and Trauma, and needed to ask him some questions about the hospital. I said he’d taken care of my Gran – I was worried that he’d ask me more about who I was, or how I knew who he was, and I needed a cover story – but he was so, well, so distraught, that he just nodded and said I could ask him whatever I liked. “I described the paper I was supposedly writing – one about mysterious incidents in hospitals, things that couldn’t be explained. He said that one day, a little while ago, now, there was a day where there were no admissions. None whatsoever, in a busy hospital that caters to lots of surrounding

I sipped the drink, watching Joel over the rim of the glass. “Hell no!” Joel knocked back his drink. “Maxwell got his blood delivered from the blood bank.” He chuckled. “He compelled a doctor to diagnose him with some rare blood disease.” “Did he ever drink animal blood?” Asking for a friend. I almost found it amusing. It must be the effect of the whiskey. It warmed my cold, dead insides.

I should say something. I should tell her I understand or that I’m sorry or literally anything. But the words stick in my throat because all I can think is that my brother did this. My brother is the reason her son is drowning. The reason she’s sitting here in this expensive café, desperate enough to hire a stranger. She opens her bag. Pulls out a thick folder and sets it on the table between us. “This is the contract,” she says. “I want to walk you through it so there are no surprises.”