Blood C Novels & Stories

She really did not want him to die! Even if she hated him, she still could not let go of him! The nurse rushed back in a hurry and told her, “He has type B blood. There isn’t enough blood in the blood bank. Do any of you have type B blood? He needs a blood donation!” “I… I don’t have type B blood,” Scarlet said instinctively. Sharon shook her head too. “I don’t either.” Riley’s expression darkened. “I have type B blood. Take my blood,” she said without a moment of hesitation.

But I can't hide things forever so, I will reveal the truth to her. "Oh you're talking about that cure? Yes there is a cure. You know what is it? It's the blood of Albino people," I heard Lucia gasped. I did not react to that but rather continue on informing her. "That's why the capital, and the King are eager to get your twins. People are calling them witches. People are out to drain their blood, Lucia. The reason why the King knows about it is because there's a book about that"

he coaxed. “Mate or not, there are just some things we will not share, Valen!” I tried to push him away, but he didn’t budge. “As my mate this is something I will force you to do each time you are hurt. My blood will heal you just as it heals me.” “No! That’s unsanitary and disgusting! I won’t drink your blood!” Ignoring my protests, he laid me back against the pillows on the bed. Before I could spit the blood out his palm engulfed the entire bottom half of my face, cutting off my protests and my breathing. I had no choice but to swallow.

I could tell they were still confused by all that so I told Darla to explain CBC to them. "A CBC is a common blood test. It is often done as part of a routine checkup, but can be done at any time." Darla said to reassure them. They both nodded. "Blood is usually taken from a vein in the arm." She started explaining while I took an tourniquet and wrapped around Nina's upper arm to apply pressure to the area and make the veins easier to see. "Sweety, can you press your fist please? It would make this easier." I smiled to Nina as I asked her. She briefly smiled and did as told.

I slid a single, crumpled business card across the battered wooden table, My fingers trembling just enough to make the red ink smear slightly. My heart thudded unexpectedly—curiosity, mixed with a strange flicker of unease. I reached out and carefully lifted the card, eyes narrowing at the bold, blood-red letters that seemed to pulse with life: Bloodmatch. Beneath the name, a smear of fresh-looking blood still glistened, as if it had just been spilled moments ago, and Shelby’s fingertips had left their mark. “What is this? I asked, voice barely above a whisper, my eyes darting from the card to Shelby’s tense face. His voice cracked, softer than I’d ever heard it, as if he was offering an ol

That this flight wasn’t some nightmare too vivid to be real. This wound was real. Dreams didn’t put holes through a person’s thigh. She let her head fall back against the tree and stared up at the canopy. November’s stripped branches carved jagged silhouettes against a sky suspended between black and blue—the exact shade of someone caught at a crossroads. Her consciousness had started going cotton. Light, fraying at the edges—textbook blood loss, recalled from a first aid class she’d spent critiquing the city’s ambulance GPS routing. But enough logic remained to tell her one thing: stop moving.

The rug still bore faint traces of blood, and I looked away quickly. "I'll clean that," Alexander said, following my gaze. "Later. First, you need to eat." "I'm not hungry." "You need blood." My heart stuttered. "What?" "Not from me—not like that. Animal blood. It's not the same as human, but it will help you recover." He rose, moving to a small refrigerator I hadn't noticed before, built into the paneling. He returned with a glass of dark red liquid. "Here. Drink." I took the glass, stared at it. It looked like wine. Smelled... coppery. Alive.

My chest feels too tight but I force myself to keep breathing normally, keep my voice steady. “That sounds really hard,” I say quietly. “You were pretty young when all that happened.” He nods, still not looking at me. I reach across and gently touch the edge of the sketchbook, not closing it, just letting him know I’m here. “Sometimes when scary things happen, our brains hold onto them,” I tell him. “Even when we don’t want them to. And sometimes drawing them out can help us understand them better.” “Does it make them go away?”

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

Chapter Seven: The Girl in My House Ivy had never seen a house this big. She stood just inside the Sterling mansion, her small bag hanging from her shoulder as her eyes wandered across the enormous living room. Everything looked expensive—the polished marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, the furniture was plush and elegant, and massive paintings adorned the walls in ornate gold frames. She felt small and out of place, like a visitor in a world that didn't belong to her.