Blood Awakening Mhr Novels & Stories

Marcus’s chest heaved as the bitter liquid clawed him back to life, every nerve in his body sparking awake like fire running through his veins. His throat burned, his jaw clenched, and his wolf thrashed under his skin—half-awake, half-feral. He coughed hard, tasting iron and herbs, before his vision cleared enough to see Howard’s face hovering over him. His best friend’s hand pressed firm to his shoulder, steady, grounding him in reality.

I shift uncomfortably in my seat, the spiralling thoughts beginning to overwhelm me. Before I can decent further into despair, the rhythm of the heart rate monitor beside Zahra’s bed quickens, signalling a change. Her breathing becomes erratic. "I think she’s waking up," I murmur, breaking the quiet. Eliot and Oscar, who had been lost in their own conversation, snap their attention to Zahra as I speak.

They want to know if I'm a threat to their perfect little machine. Marcus walked slowly toward the hovering bed. He sat down heavily on the edge of the mattress. He closed his eyes, drawing on years of intense, grueling boxing conditioning. He consciously forced his heart rate to drop. Sixty beats per minute. Fifty. Forty. He slowed his breathing until it was a shallow, rhythmic whisper. He let his core body temperature drop slightly, feigning the biological markers of deep, REM sleep. In the ceiling, the AI node registered the data. A tiny, invisible green light pulsed. Target Pacified. Sleep State Confirmed.

The grey wolf closed his eyes. Dorian rose from his chair, pocketing the handheld terminal, the heartbeat curve still glowing. His hand brushed against the small silver metal box in his pocket, the edges of the lid slipping over his fingerprints. "Heart rate sixty-six. Four beats higher than when you were sleeping. Normal. Because you're awake."

We do not understand why you keep it. “Because it’s part of us,” Sophia said gently. “You can’t erase it. You have to feel it.” There was a long pause. Then the light dimmed to a deep gold. Teach us. Sophia exhaled. “Then listen to how we heal.” --- Ottawa — The Wakeful Ones Not everyone slept. Raven stood in the observation hall, watching the monitors as brainwave maps danced like auroras across the screens. Every sleeping person on Earth pulsed in unison — alpha and theta rhythms weaving into one great waveform.

I whispered, the word tasting like ash. "No. I graduated. I’m a Master’s student. I’m the Best School Master's Graduand... the Rector, he handed me the glass... Lurii, you were there. You were wearing yellow." "Ashley," the doctor said, stepping closer and shining a penlight into my eyes. I squinted, the light feeling like a needle in my brain. "You’re eighteen. You’re a freshman. I think you’re experiencing some post-syncopal confusion. It’s common with the kind of physical trauma your body just went through. Your blood sugar was dangerously low, and your cortisol levels were through the roof."

Blood Awakening Chapter 14: Sweet spot Morning came in just a snap of fingers. Maridelle woke up with a pair of warm arms around her waist. She checked who it was just to find Lachlan cuddling her. Immediately, she checked if he got some clothes on. Maridelle cannot bear the thought of him sleeping beside her naked. For a moment, hot blood pooled on her cheeks. Slowly, with courage, she took peek under the blanket. It's a relief to see that he is wearing clothes. The landlady must have left it outside their room for him.

I crawled at the rope with bound my hands, fought against the burning in chest and when the black spots started to appear in my vision, I knew I had no more fight left. Vibrant reds, blush pinks with soft purple undertones and calm light blues all gathered together to bask in the sun's golden glory. The sheer beauty of it brought tears to my eyes, it was the most beautiful sun rise I'd ever seen. The glorious dawn that chased away the night's shadows. The last sunrise of my life. Not a bad view at all!

*** Mia woke up to soft sunlight creeping into the room, filling the room with a faint warmth. She groaned loudly like an animal dying as she turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “I feel like death,” she grumbled to the ceiling. “Why do I keep drinking when I know I'll always want to die later?” The ceiling didn't answer, just looked back down at her as if saying, ‘Deal with your shit.’ She sighed. “Right.” She needed coffee. A cup of coffee so strong, it’ll make her want to black out. She sat up, stretching her limbs, and groaning even more loudly as her head pounded. Ah, she needed that coffee more than she needed to breathe.

But the mess of it—the wetness of his tears against my cold quartz, the smell of milk and fear—did not compute. "Emotive outbursts are an inefficient use of oxygen," I stated. The gold runes on my chest pulsed with a dull indigo light, a warning of the friction building in the bedrock. "Your heart rate is currently ninety-two beats per minute. This level of cardiac stress is detrimental to your function as the system trigger. Calibrate your respiration immediately." "Aria, stop!"