Bleach Sinopsis Novels & Stories

​Chapter : The First Life ​The smell was the first thing that hit me. It wasn’t salt or ozone. It was antiseptic. Bleach. The cold, sterile scent of a beginning I had spent ten lifetimes trying to outrun. ​I blinked, the violet light in my eyes flickering like a dying candle. We weren't on the beach. We weren't in the jungle. We were standing in a high-tech surgical theater, the walls a blinding, seamless white.

I was locked in. White. The walls were white. The ceiling. The sheets. The room smelled like bleach and something deeper. Like blood. Like antiseptic. Like survival. Then I felt it. My face. Wrapped. Bandaged. As if someone had tried to patch a shattered vase with gauze and hope. My skin itched under the layers, tight and raw. My chest felt wrapped in something stiff. My breathing ragged. What happened? What the hell happened? I squeezed my eyes shut. Willed my mind to rewind. Rewind. Rewind.

Stephen panicked when Callum fainted again. The mate bond was burning Blaze too inside him. It was almost morning. He linked with the pack doctor. He was actually worried while changing the cold towel on his forehead. He was burning like fire. Just then the door opened. "Stephen, what happened to him"? It was Zee. Worried to core. But before he could answer them, the door slammed open again. The Vampires were not excellent but at least in good terms with Alpha and Luna of Blaze.

Black blood sprayed, sizzling against the rug. Pelin cried out but pulled the blade free and struck again. And again. Each strike made the thing weaker, its body collapsing, melting into shadow. By the fourth stab, its form unraveled, boiling. The hissing cries turned to a low gurgle before it melted into a puddle of tar at my feet. I sat back hard, panting, my body drenched in sweat. The room fell into silence except for Pelin’s ragged breaths. She stared at the blade in her hand, still trembling, black ichor dripping from its edge.

Fatimah pulled out the dagger, relishing in the spray of blood that spurted after the dagger and spattered to the floor as he staggered back and hit the ground with a thud, his eyes fixed on her, the shock never quite dissipates. Fatimah got up, the bullets falling out as she started to heal. "That took more than a minute" she grinned as the fire started consuming him and his scream of agony filled the whole bathroom. "I am sorry Silver but Massimo won't be getting a Head today, and maybe next time, just do your job without talking too much or listening to dumb shit. Did I say I was sorry? Oops, slip of tongue," She smiled and watched as he disintegrated and crumbled to ashes.

I watched him as he walked out of my penthouse with determination and urgency in his steps and knew that he was going to make everything go smoothly as he usually does. I rest back against the couch I was seated on, closed my eyes, and smiled. If she thinks that she could just escape my clutches like that, then she’s got to think twice about that. But then the next minute, a frown replaced the smile on my face, as my thought drifted to the dangers that she was about to face soon. From past histories, the previous Blue Bloods weren’t able to overcome all the challenges they faced from the moment they were discovered before they were eventually killed.

Now I wasn't feeling guilty about what I did to them. "What happened here?!" A middle-aged woman exclaimed as she saw the event that happened in her absence. Everyone looked in my direction, expecting me to reply to the woman. Of course, after all, I was the culprit. "That's our teacher," Seb whispered. "Oh, I see. This would be fun." I said to him, rubbing my hands together. "Ma?" I asked in a meek voice. "Yes, you're the new student, Deborah Waters. So, what happened here, care to tell?"

he keeps mumbling as I struggle. The tidal wave of reality washes over me. I look down. My dress is all red as if I bathed in blood. A dry coating covers the skin of my cleavage. But the worst part of all is the sudden realization that this is the moment in which my heart should be racing. No. It's still. Too still for comfort. "Please allow me to explain." His hands have retreated, and I'm free again, gasping. His stunning sky-blue eyes reveal no animosity or ill-will.

but Rowan didn’t hear, didn’t stop, until Patrick’s eyes rolled back and his body went limp, a bloody, battered mess barely breathing among the wreckage. Rowan rose slowly, chest heaving, knuckles raw and throbbing, but the fire inside him only burned hotter, like the violence had stoked it even more. He glanced back into the bedroom where Alex and Carlisle lay in their own pools of blood, groaning softly, their faces swollen masks of purple and red, bodies twisted at unnatural angles on the carpet. The three of them, these sick excuses for human beings, sprawled like trash, nearly unconscious and completely broken. It should’ve brought some peace, some release, but all Rowan felt was a holl

He only brought it up as a bluff, a threat. Helen stepped into the room only to see Nathaniel's pallor. "You look terrible. Is something wrong?" The rims of Nathaniel's eyes were tinged with redness, and he looked at Helen. She shared my resemblance, but that was where the similarities came to an end. The loving relationship he had, he had it with me. Our relationship was irreplaceable, or it was supposed to be. His hands tightened around the divorce papers. 'Why'd I mistake her for Ginny? That one-night-stand was an accident, but everything after that was…'