Blood On My Hands Book Novels & Stories

For instance, there were three levels of shelves right there in the kitchen, holding up the dusty books that we did not get to clean earlier. I was going to ignore it and just go about my day, but my eyes caught something quite absurd. On the bottom shelf, just on the extreme right, there was a book about vampires. It was hard to notice at first but when I picked it up and blew off the dust, it became more obvious. On skimming through the book, it was just about the unique anatomy of vampires. But what piqued my interest was that everything in it looked handwritten and hand drawn. It was like the documentation of a person's findings on my species.

He releases one hand to help me, but in doing so, I smell something metallic and quickly realize the wetness on his hand is not water like I thought, but blood. Alarms instantly go off in my head. I use my free hand to turn on the lamp on the bedside table. Truly, it’s blood on his hands, and now on mine. I stare at our hands, then at him. Neither of us says a word even though we have much to say. I throw my legs out of the bed, and he gives me just enough space to do so, rising to his feet when I stand, and quietly following me into the bathroom as I go.

Eyes… deep crimson, the color of wine freshly spilled across marble. I didn’t just wake up in a different body. I woke up in a different world. And not just any world. One I knew far too well. I had read about this place before—in a book called Blood and Moonlight. A gothic fantasy where ancient vampire courts ruled the night from silvered palaces, where ruthless werewolf packs prowled the wild forests, and where an uneasy truce held between fangs and claws… until it inevitably shattered. It was a story of war. A story of betrayal. A story where love was as fatal as any blade.

she said, reaching for the ledger. The moment her fingers touched the cover, pain lanced through her hand. She gasped, jerking back, but it was too late. Blood welled from a tiny cut on her palm, a cut that hadn't been there before, and dripped onto the ledger's cover. The book absorbed the blood like parched earth drinking rain, then it began to glow. Silvercrest runes materialized across the cover, shifting and rearranging themselves. With a soft click, the book fell open to the first page.

Blood dripped through the man's hands, which held the book's spine, slick with his own blood. “Tell me it was worth it,” whispered this man. “There was never a version of this where it wasn’t,” Lucifer whispered. Allistair tried to shout, but his vocal chords betrayed him. The battlefield erupted around him and screaming voices and pounding wings, and reality itself began to rend. The book thrummed. Not with a vibration of power or a flash of illumination. Just a presence, an absence that filled the space. The man caught in Lucifer’s grip shook as blood dripped from his fingers, seeping into the pages before disappearing as if devoured.

Blood. So much blood. It soaked through my hands, warm and slick, spreading across the stone floor in a dark crimson pool. The metallic scent clawed at my lungs, thick and suffocating. My fingers trembled slightly but not from fear, but from the thrill of control, the raw intensity of holding life and death in my grip.

She opened her eyes and picked up the blade, holding her thumb above the open pages, she cut it, and red blood trickled down her finger. It slowly pooled into a drop and fell down his thumb, splattering on the pages of the book. The blood was slowly absorbed by the pages of the book and then it disappeared. I waited for something to happen but nothing did. And just when I was about to open my mouth, I saw the book move. The dark book of magic began trembling slowly and then it was rattling, the edges of the hardbound flapping on the pillar. Insitinctlye I took a step back as Gwen threw her hands on either side of her and threw her head back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Irina's POV I slit my throat. There was so much blood. It sprayed across the leather seats. I saw it splashed onto Alexei's newspaper. It soaked into my clothes, turning everything red. I saw the shock on Alexei's face. His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. He wasn't expecting it. "What did you..." he started to say. But I did not hear the rest. Everything was spinning. The world was tilting sideways.

* Trigger Warning, this book contains violence, dark fantasy, abuse, death, murder, and trauma* Prologue Blood was everywhere, on the ceiling, the floors, the bed. The coppery smell of the warm red liquid filled the air, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. I rubbed my blood-covered hands through my hair. The rage simmered as the adrenaline left my body. It was like I was stuck in a haze. Why was I covered in blood, and who did it belong to?

There's blood on my hands now, and it's still warm, and that makes me feel so sick I think I might throw up. I look down at my hands, and they've got these red smears all over them. My stomach feels like it's doing flips. It's like I did something really wrong just by touching him, like I wasn't supposed to. Now I've got his blood on me, and my hands won't stop shaking while I stare at them. I feel so guilty, even though I didn't do anything wrong. How did this happen? Who would do something this awful?