Blood Work Novel Novels & Stories

My blood ran cold. It felt like a physical blow to the chest, knocking the remaining air right out of my lungs. Sophia? No. It was impossible. She was the one who had stayed up for forty-eight hours straight, her hands shaking but precise as she cleaned my wounds and stitched me back together. She had cried tears of sheer relief when I finally woke up. She had promised me we were safe. *It couldn't be her.* But as the panic threatened to swallow me whole, my mind, frantic and desperate, started connecting the dots with a terrifying, logical speed.

What I was capable of when someone took what was mine. I walked out of the room, down the stairs and into my office. I pulled off my shirt, and took a cigarette. I walked to the window, watching rain pour from the dark skies. Somewhere out there, Alexei has Irina. He was probably holding her, touching her, claiming what should have been mine. My reflection stared back at me from the glass. My eyes were cold, empty and dangerous. This was no longer about laws. Or councils. This was about blood.

I lifted my eyelids and tried to focus on Jinx shaking his head and mumbling about something not being good. "The beast infected Noah's shadow wolf's blood. It's going to alter his DNA and mind and hopefully not cause his darkness to overrun him," Dagon murmured in regret. I looked up at him and said no. My eyes closed and I must have fainted. I woke up again sometime later with an IV in my arm and gold blood flowing within it. I sat up and glanced around the pack room in my lodge that still stood. The blood was bagged and not from a living source. I yelled out and a lovely woman came in. I recalled that her name was Sara. She came in and started to remove the needle from my arm.

His blood stains my hands, my chest, and the scent of it—metallic and sharp—fills the air. “Stay with me, alright?” I mutter, my voice tight as we stumble down the hall. “You’re gonna be fine. We’ll fix this.” Zane doesn’t respond, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as more blood drips from his lips. He leans heavily against me, his body trembling, and I can feel the panic building in my chest. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Not after everything we’ve been through. We make it to Nova’s room, and I kick the door open, not bothering to knock. She’s inside, bent over a table covered in books and herbs, but she looks up immediately when we enter, her eyes going wide at the sight of

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2 "𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑..... 𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑛..... 𝐴 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘..." Katherine That organ in my body that pumps blood and keeps my whole blood warm somersaulted and I took a step back. Alexander Tyrone leaned on the door in all his glory.

I don’t know why she was being such a bitch about the situation. Yeah, maybe I was being a dick myself calling her names, but why the fuck would she try to reject me like that? I’m sure since she didn’t know how to do an official rejection, then she also probably didn’t know how much of a big deal it was. If she’d done it right, I would have felt the severance of the bond, but how much worse could it actually hurt than what it did? The fact she gave me her blood to heal me, only made my feelings stronger. I never knew blood could taste so good and now I was craving hers like a drug. It’s a real fucked up situation to crave something you can never have again. Now all I felt was anger.

I know those eyes, where do I know them from? An ache wraps around my skull, and I watch them lift me up. My neck turns on its own, I gape, the panic I had tried to stop rushing back with fevor. The severed head of my elder sister, her shining blonde hair soaked in deep red with a pool of blood surrounding her. There are other limbs next to her, her eyes are wide and empty. Something pushes up against my mouth, and I tremble. A wave of dizziness hits me, I don’t stop staring at the horror show until my lashes flutter down and darkness swallows me.

“Yes, mater. I will serve ye until my last breath.” I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I pulled my thoughts away from Jones’ past. I only knew this because I’d gone through the history books kept in the cellar, stumbling upon a journal from the time of Grace Bloodsworth. Her tone had sounded regretful as I brushed my hand over the dark red-ink, my eyes eating up the sorrowful words. I knew without a doubt that she had use her own blood to write it.

"No, it would be visible through the window, and Stephan would know that we're here." "Where are we, exactly?" "My lab. It overlooks the garden." A curious smell pervaded the room—antiseptic cleanser and something rich and metallic. Blood. Aya's stomach twinged. Of course, he worked with blood. He was the inventor of Artificial blood. And a drinker of it, too. She shuddered. But if Malcolm's artificial blood was feeding vampires, then those same vampires were no longer feeding off live people. Malcolm was saving lives in two different ways. He was still a hero.

“And I needed you unchanged a little longer.” I leaned back against the couch, exhaustion seeping into my bones. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” I admitted. “Romano. Siankovski. Moretti.” He turned fully toward me now. “You’re Bianca Moretti,” he said proudly. “The rest is context.” “That’s not how blood works.” I playfully rolled my eyes. “No,” he agreed. “But it’s how choice works.” I studied him — this man who knew how to command armies but struggled to sit with grief.