Blood Sign With Fingers Novels & Stories

Still thin, still translucent at the edges, the blue veins visible beneath the surface like roads on a map too small to read. But warmer. The reddish flush had faded to something closer to pink, actual baby pink, the color that meant alive and getting better instead of alive and holding on. I traced his fingers. Long and narrow and impossibly small, each one curling slightly inward, the nails barely visible. My fingers. My mother’s fingers. Nobody else’s. His chest rose and fell so quickly it still didn’t look like breathing to me. Still looked too fast. A tiny engine running at full speed.

He stepped in and shut the door behind him, locking it with a soft click before he turned to face me again. "Marcus, what the actual fuck am I doing here?" I asked. Before he could answer, my eyes flicked to his hands and I froze at the sight of blood. It was dried and crusted on his fingers and under his nails like he'd tried to scrub it off but gave up halfway. And when he saw me looking, he smiled wickedly like a kid who’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Marcus... whose blood is that?" I asked. He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t friendly. It was still calm and measured, but there was something unhinged flickering behind his eyes.

I mumbled. "Where?" He asked. I figured out what he was talking about, so I show him my wrist, his eyes turn a to complete black, he grab my wrist and bit through it, I moan in pain as his fangs keep going deep into my veins. It was painful, like being stabbed on the hand. I look at him as he devour my blood, the way his veiny arms held my tiny ones.

—like two notes of different frequencies being played simultaneously. Her fingers emerged from her pockets and touched his wrist. The tips of her fingers brushed against the skin on the inside of his wrist—the skin there was very thin, with veins faintly visible beneath. Blue veins resembled tributaries of a river. His pulse beat beneath her fingertips, each beat striking against her fingers at a faster rate than she had expected.

“You’re not hurt?” “No.” My voice came out steadier than I felt, which seemed to be the theme of the night. “Not physically.” His jaw ticked — that same tell from the car, except now I understood exactly what it meant. He was furious, and not at me. He crouched down beside Marco, who one of the medics was already working on, pressing gauze against the wound in his shoulder with quick, competent hands. “He’ll live,” the medic said without looking up. “Lucky. Missed the artery by an inch.”

No, this smelled like… He brought his hands forward, and his eyes widened at the red stains coating his fingers. “Blood,” Evren whispered in a shaky voice.

For each step she took, blood was needed. She brought her left middle finger to her teeth and bit hard on it, causing blood to flow out. She pointed her injured finger at the ground and then cautiously took a step forward as blood trickled down her finger. She felt that the pressure had greatly lessened. As more of her blood dropped to the ground, she got closer to the middle of this platform.

He says gripping my hand tighter as he draws the sharp blade to my finger. I bit into my lip harshly as the tip slowly pierce my finger and slowly drew out blood. I wince by the slight throb. Rodrick places the knife on the table and quickly pulls my bleeding finger over the beaker. The air is stiff and nerve-wracking as we all stay silent waiting for the drop of my blood to fall to the dirt. My heart leaps when finally the crimson drop falls to the earth inside the beaker, slipping in the cracks of the earth.

I winced in pain when a niddle pierced in my fore finger. A drop of blood came out from my finger. "What happened..?" Siddharth asked me while coming closer to me. He is looking at me with concern. "Nothing..niddle pirced in mh forefinger." I said while pressuring the skin on tip of my forefinger and more blood came out from it. He took my hand and looked at my finger. I gasped when he put my finger in his mouth and sucked it while looking directly into my eyes. His tounge is feeling hot and wet on my finger.

I knelt down slowly and placed the flowers at her headstone. A tight weight sat on my chest, pressing down. I didn’t know where it came from, but it didn’t belong. As I stood, a sudden pressure built behind my eyes. “Ugh,” I groaned quietly, touching my temple. The world tilted slightly. My ears rang with a loud, sharp buzz. Then,drip. Something warm landed on my palm. I looked down. Blood. Lifting my hand to my nose, I confirmed it,thick red streak across my fingers.