Attire Bloodborne Novels & Stories

His shirt tore easily under his new claws, the fabric sticking to the blood slicking his skin. Another crack—this time his ribs. His scream split the night. Every sound in the forest stopped. The crickets. The owls. Even the wind. It was as if the entire world was listening. Atticus gasped raggedly, his body trembling. The smell of iron filled the air—his blood, sharp and metallic. His vision swam. The moon above him blurred into a silver smear as his eyes began to glow faintly, light bleeding into the edges of his vision.

His thoughts went straight from murder, to regret, to anxiety, and then finally he went limp and fell straight down on top of me, pinning me below his lifeless body. So much for not getting blood on my dress… I thought, as I pushed him off me and pulled my knife from his chest. I had to get cleaned up, this was bound to be discovered soon, and I did not want to be here when it did. I went into the bathroom that was attached to this room and attempted to get the blood off my dress. It wasn’t working well, but I realized that the dress, when wet, turned a dark blood red, covering up the actual blood stains on it. I knew I couldn’t just walk around covered in blood though, even if it was hidden

Your brother can check and see if the clothes you saw me wearing during the funeral are still in my sister-in-law's room. Maeve had picked a showy dress that day—she expected me dead and probably planned to claim my things as her own. Maeve cried out, "No! Don't—" Before she finished, the group rushed inside and rifled through her wardrobe. Laid out among the pile was a pink tweed dress, the one Maeve had worn to the funeral.

he said as he used an athame to cut Rhett’s skin, capturing a sample of blood on the blade and scraping it into a jar as Talen licked the wound shut. “How generous,” Heath said dryly. “May I borrow that?” Talen held out his hand for the athame. “Let me sterilize it first,” Leighton replied gathering up his jars and making his way out into the main room. After a moment he returned still wiping the athame with an alcohol soaked rag. “We do not know vampire’s tolerances to the infection, so it is best to be wary,” Leighton explained as he passed the blade handle to Talen who used the point to slice down his neck before handing it back.

The dark hallway swallowed the tiny woman before Sapphira could say anything more. Dark bodies filled the main hall, swaying to the sultry rock music. A few of them were Alphas' of nearby packs, standing out with their massive bodies and powerful scents. But most of the crowd were her school year, the majority of the girls in tight skimpy dresses and the boys in suits. It was odd to see them all in one place and so dressed up. As she was pouring herself a pink lemonade, El appeared at her shoulder, grimacing. "What's wrong?"

“You’ll do so well tonight” I wanted to bristle, to snap back at his arrogance, but the weight of his gaze rooted me to the floor. My pulse betrayed me, racing under his scrutiny, and I hated that a part of me craved his approval even as another part rebelled. He offered his arm. “We’re late.” ***** The Moretti mansion was a palace dipped in gold. Chandeliers glittered overhead, their light scattering across crystal glasses and polished silverware. The air smelled of expensive perfume and something darker underneath—power, violence, old blood.

He stepped forward, his massive frame towering over the vampire as he looked down into the folds of the cloak. The Alpha's dark eyes instantly narrowed as he caught the visual markers of the crisis. Brynn’s face was pale, her soft jasmine scent heavily laced with the metallic, intoxicating tang of primordial vampire blood. But what Garick saw first—what caused his wolf instincts to flare with a protective panic—were the thin, smoky purple-and-black tracks of the Blood-born venom still faintly webbing across her collarbone. They were visibly fading, dissolving into her sun-kissed skin as Riheirk’s ancient, healing blood aggressively incinerated the last remnants of the poison from her system.

“Fight for him, Irwin. He’s your mate. You weren’t bound to him by accident. It’s in your blood, in your soul. Fight!” The girl’s voice echoed, growing deeper and more commanding. “You weren’t just bound by chance—you were bound by bloodlines!” Heat surged through Irwin’s body, her vision blurring as rage and despair consumed her. She fell to her knees, her hands clawing at the ground. The earth trembled beneath her fingers, cracks forming and spreading outward as raw power coursed through her veins. “Save him!” the replica roared. With a feral scream, Irwin launched herself forward, her body ablaze with energy. Flames erupted from her hands as she reached Dorian, the fire searing through th

Advanced Sanguimancy. The mirror-sheen surface of the basin violently rippled. Six long, liquid tendrils of dark blood rose from the pool, hovering in the air like coiling vipers before rushing toward Carmilla. They didn't strike to wound; they wrapped around Carmilla’s wrists, her throat, and her temple, their cool, liquid mass sinking straight through her porcelain skin, embedding themselves directly into her immortal bloodstream. Carmilla’s system suffered an instantaneous, blinding shock.

68. ATTA GIRL The vigil was a beautifully resplendent, and a truly elaborate ceremony. Well as beautiful as a funeral ceremony could be anyway. The entire pack was up between the wee hours of dawn and midnight old and young alike, dressed in formal attires of midnight black with no trace of any other colour... just as werewolf culture demanded.