Blood Sweat And Terrors Novels & Stories

Celeste’s POV I gasped for breath, my chest heaving as I sat up straight. My hands grabbed at the sheets, soaked with sweat; my pulse thumped so hard it vibrated in my skull. Darkness surrounded me, it was close and suffocating. Quickly, I turned on the lamp by my bedside. Something was wrong with me. Every night I woke up sweating with blood on my palm sometimes. I never remembered what I did and was scared I had hurt someone.

Chapter Thirty-One Rhea shot up from her bed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she gasped for breath. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her eyes were wide with fear as if she had seen a ghost. Her hands trembled as they clutched the sheets, her heart pounding in her ears. The pain in her head still lingered, sharp and unforgiving, like the last sting of a nightmare refusing to leave her alone.

Gowthami woke up suddenly, her heart racing and her body covered in a sheen of sweat. Her breath came in quick, shallow gasps as the remnants of her nightmare clung to her consciousness. She sat up in bed, her eyes wide with fear, her mind struggling to distinguish between dream and reality. Her dark hair clung to her damp forehead, and her usually luminous brown eyes were clouded with residual terror.

The beast closed in on me, its claw inches from touching my shoulder, but I slipped inside a room that hadn't been shut from the inside. I felt my life was about to end at that point, but luck was on my side, allowing me a temporary reprieve. I struggled for oxygen as I leaned against the door, my body shaking with terror and my clothes wet with sweat. My skin was covered in goosebumps, a physical reflection of my terror.

The suddenness of his reaction sent a shiver down my spine, filling me with a sense of fear. Desperate to snap him out of his nightmare, I called out his name repeatedly, but he remained trapped under his subconscious. His body trembled with the intensity of his emotions, and I could see the trace of sweat glistening on his brow. It was clear that whatever he was experiencing in his dream was causing him great distress.

it felt exactly like Malachi trying to tear my clothes off in the woods. A cold, primal terror gripped my entire body. I began to tremble uncontrollably, my muscles locking up, my breath hitching in dry, panicked gasps. But I forced my hands to stay flat against the furs. I didn't fight. I couldn't escape—this was the transaction I had chosen. Fenris was practically weeping, begging to possess him.

His movements were slowing, his fingers twitching in an involuntary tremor. The draining light pulsed with a rhythmic, sickening thrum. I looked at my hands. They were covered in cold sweat. I wanted to scream, but my throat was a desert. I was watching my life die to power my own nightmare. I was the freak. I was the monster. Both truths screamed in my skull. The machine raised the claw higher, preparing to finish the extraction.

The green glow from the bowl lifted in a mist, swirling around Kael’s body before sinking into his skin. And still, his body shuddered, fighting, breaking, clinging. The chamber shook with the force of Kael’s convulsions. His body arched again, higher, harder, his ribs trembling against skin that looked too fragile to contain the storm raging inside. A choked gasp ripped from Silas. His eyes went wide, and before anyone else saw it, he leaned in closer, his voice breaking. “He’s—he’s sweating blood.” And he was. Thin streams trickled from Kael’s pores like crimson beads, running down his temples, sliding into his hair. Each drop stained the sheet beneath him like the boy’s very life was seep

It was a lifetime defined not by grief or trauma, but by an unbroken, radiant joy. Until the sky turned to ash. Without warning, the golden light shattered like cheap glass. The dream fractured into a terrifying, chaotic whiplash of agonizing images. Rebecca felt a sudden, suffocating cold lock into her lungs—a violent, hacking cough that tore through her chest, leaving the metallic taste of blood on her lips. She was lying in a wooden bed, her flesh burning with a wasting mortal fever, her vision fading into a gray, terrifying dark.

Sweat poured down his face, soaking through his shirt, his body shaking uncontrollably. "Henry!" I shouted, my voice breaking, as I stumbled toward him, my legs weak beneath me. I gripped the table to steady myself, terror flooding my senses. "Help!" I screamed toward the hallway, my voice trembling. "Somebody help!" I dropped to my knees beside him as his breath came in ragged gasps. His skin was clammy and pale, his shirt plastered to his chest from the sweat. His entire body seemed to be shutting down before my eyes.