Blood Drag Novels & Stories

A bag appeared out of thin air and was dropped in front of me. "What the-" "Drink up, boys. It's about time you got outta here, don't ya think? Unless you enjoy living in your own piss and shit," Drabek's deep voice sounded through the shadows, and I didn't hesitate to rip the bag open. The sweet metallic smell of blood hit me, and my fangs elongated on their own. The three blood bags would be more than enough to tie us off until we could have a proper feed.

The wind howled violently, scratching at my throat until I felt an itch that seemed to make me want to cough. "Enough talking. Choose, or I'll let them both go." At Amber's signal, the men next to us hoisted both me and Tara up. The salty sea breeze hit me in the face, and the sharp smell of ocean water churned my stomach. However, nothing compared to the screaming in my ears. Before I could even draw a breath, Ethan had already made his choice. At that moment, everything went silent. Amber instinctively turned to look at me. My vision flickered and spots of black clouded my sight, but I did not know why.

He held the dagger up to Ruben and Ruben stepped forward taking Batton’s other wrist and slashing it open as well. Kat gasped in a breath as Ruben stood side on to Batton and raised his hand, igniting Blood Reign and Batton’s blood started to glow, lifting up from the ground and, like dust particles in the sunlight, drifted up in small filaments and disappearing. Batton grimaced and a pained strangled noise escaped him as the Blood Reign started to pull the blood from his open veins, draining him completely. “You’ll kill him…” Kat breathed, watching with a morbid fascination.

It was easy to spot the entry point since it was marked by a small dot of bright red blood and hideous black spider web-like veins radiating outward from the blood spot, crawling their way through his bloodstream. I sucked, and I spat the burning silver at his bitch of a mate. I didn't actually mean to; that was just a happy accident. Suddenly, Carin's screaming stopped, and I heard Jayvon beside me. "Silver nitrate! You can't suck it out of him, you fracking idiot!" Jayvon shouts.

She navigates by instinct, her head tilted slightly, searching blindly for sound or sensation. A network of dried, dark blood streaks her features, clotting her hair and caking around her mouth and nose. More of it stained the tattered fabric of her clothes, which hung like rags from her shoulders, offering no warmth or dignity. The exposed skin of her arms and legs is a horrific sight, covered in a shocking, extensive pattern of deep, patchy, multi-colored bruises, shades of purple, green, and yellow overlapping in a terrible collage. She is not walking; she is being dragged forward by an unrelenting will, a silent testament to the pain made visible.

After another sound of water, a long thing wrapped in a bag was directly dragged out of the stove by him. As soon as that thing came out, boiling water continuously dripped down, scattering all over the ground beside the stove. "What is this?" The pangolin frowned and looked at the hook in disbelief. It was covered with a bag, so they couldn't see what it was exactly. However, the water dragged out of the bag made them stunned. It was blood-red. Moreover, the color was so deep that it was no different from the real blood. Peng! Almost at the same time, the man swung the hook with all his strength and the things on the hook were thrown directly onto the cart.

Lips pull down into frowns. Meanwhile, my stomach rolls. I feel unsettled. There’s something wrong, something fishy, but I can’t put my finger on it. Fear, worry… they try to nag at the back of mind. And I shove it away. Conversations pick up quickly. Everyone is confused about the whole ordeal. Some run to the windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of Alpha Eric and Lysandra. And soon, the whole kitchen is in an uproar, chores long forgotten. I have never met Lysandra, but rumors had it that she has Alpha blood, a Luna by birth. There were stories of her winning pack fights. And there were rumors that spoke about how cunning she was. “Snake” was the term used to describe her.

"Charles! Freddie! I don't care who was driving. Kill them both!! "Today, we need to avenge Rachel's family no matter what!" Charles stepped in front of me and turned to me with panic. "The footage didn't catch the face. What now?" He was right. Maeve had been careful; she'd even wiped fingerprints. It was obvious she'd planned this. Before I could speak, Maeve grabbed Freddie's arm. "Did you all see clearly? Is that me? Does that match my image? No wonder Lydia kept mumbling on the phone about running into some trouble. Turns out she hit someone!"

Flashback: ARACHNE’S P.O.V “Promise me!” Helena’s voice cuts through the room like a blade, ragged and desperate. She’s dying. Bleeding out, trembling, and barely holding on. I grip her hand, heart pounding loud enough for both of us to hear. “Hel, please—”

Damien’s voice cut through the air, his tone losing its usual cold edge. Before I could answer, a warm, thick rush of fluid soaked through the fabric of my clothes, spilling onto the light-colored rug. I looked down, my vision blurring as the unmistakable, deep crimson stain expanded rapidly. I was hemorrhaging. The sheer volume of blood was terrifying, pooling around me on the floor within seconds.