Bleed Marks Hair Novels & Stories

The hour seemed like an eternity. I showered the dirt and sweat off and got dressed, almost afraid to look in the mirror; but look I did. Where Lance had bitten me there was a small, white, star shaped scar. Well, sort of a scar; more like a mark as it wasn’t raised. It was small, but quite noticeable even as pale as I was it stood out in hard contrast against my skin. I fingered the silver in my hair, I didn’t really mind it much. The silver wasn’t a grey type of silver but rather a pure almost liquid color, flowing through my hair like a molten river; a mark of whatever this was between Lance and I.

My vision blurred from unshed tears when he harshly shoved the hair off my face. " SHE HAS THE MARK ", Just as he was roughly pulling the torn hoodie from my body, l heard someone say in a surprised voice. "Mark?, How is that possible?", They all walked towards me. I didn't know what they were talking about but they all seemed shocked. "It's glowing, we need to take her to the Alpha",My blood froze at that.

"Dragons don't bite like wolves. Their marks are done with their wings." My stomach churned, and my head began to spin circles. Someone had already marked my mate and I didn't know it? "What do you mean—," she asked. "They use the tip of their wings to prick your skin. It draws blood, and with that blood your mark appears. It's small, not something very noticeable, almost like a birthmark." Blaire's face drained of blood, and I knew right then, she knew where it was. "Show me," I demanded. Tears whelmed in the corner of her eyes.

When your hair stops dripping orange drops, I get a little closer and check the origin of the bleeding. It's a cut between the hair, and I'm not sure if it was done by a blow, but there is a large elevation below the slit that opened. "When did you give up trying to kill me? "I ask in such a casual way that it even seems like I don't care about that at all.

I took in his injuries, starting with the back of his bald head where dried blood had pooled. His back had long purplish marks that winded up to the sides of his ribcage. Looked like he had been beaten up with something that stretched like rubber. The marks were deep enough to leave lacerations. The blood had dried up along the lines but the damage was clearly visible.+

Kayla’s eyes widened in shock. Leon didn’t think. He just acted. He swung the clippers straight up and pressed them firmly into the center of Kayla’s perfectly styled blonde hair — right at the front of her scalp, just above her forehead. *BZZZZZZZZZZ—* The blades carved a brutal, uneven path straight down the middle of her head. A thick, wide strip of golden hair fell away instantly, fluttering to the stone tiles like dead leaves. Pale skin gleamed underneath in a shocking white line that ran from her hairline toward her crown.

It was plain and ordinary and exactly her style. She looked in the mirror. Her hair was horribly flat. Well, there was no reason why Helen couldn’t be pretty after her own fashion. She started the water running in the tub and put her head under the stream. At least she could easily give her hair volume when it was short. She towel-dried her hair and then rooted around in Mark’s medicine cabinet until she found his gel. Sure, she’d smell like him, but it was better than letting her hair dry without any product in it at all. When she was finished, it wasn’t so bad. It was just herself and she didn’t think she was ugly. She clicked open the door and came out into the hall. Mark was in the kitch

Mark added as we began the long drive back to Otterville Falls. “Are you kidding me?” I knew he was just saying that to get my goat. But I couldn’t help but remember the strange man’s office. “He had three inches of dark roots!” Mark grinned at me. “Maybe he’s looking for a new stylist.? They can be hard to find, a lot like an OB-GYN.” I snorted. “His hair was shoulder length, half of it was bleach blonde and the other half almost black. He had a life size cut out of his son who was in college and he sang while he walked.”

It’s what I see when I glance back at the bed. Clumps. Not strands. Clumps. Of my hair. Stuck to the pillowcase. Dark and wiry and definitely mine. I freeze. The air leaves my lungs like someone punched me in the chest. I touch the back of my head slowly, fingers gently combing through, then down—and I feel it. The gap. A patch near my scalp that’s thinner now. Sparse. Oh God. I cover my mouth. Stumble into the bathroom and slam the door shut behind me. My breath comes out in panicked bursts. I can’t stop shaking. I lock the door and collapse onto the closed toilet lid, phone already trembling in my hand as I unlock the screen and start typing.

I read the instructions that were on the back of the pack. Step one: pour the liquids into the given bottle. Step two: shake the bottle well to mix the liquids. Step three: bleach your hair if necessary. Step four: apply the mix and let it sit for 30 minutes. Step five: wash your hair. Voila: you have yourself new hair!