Bloodbath Hunger Games Novels & Stories

The sight of my father mauled by my own hands, covered in blood I had spilled. For years, I have avoided battles. Avoided hunting. Anything that could spill blood and let my men take care of shit. For even the scent of blood awakens the beast inside of me. And still, every second, every minute, the hunger gnawed at me. It was never satisfied. Blood. Always. Wanting. Blood. “Maybe—” Zechariah began, but his words were cut short as a thunderous crash shook the chamber. The heavy doors swung open violently, slamming angrily against the stone walls.

The taste of blood filled her mouth, the coppery tang fueling the primal fury that burned within her. The battlefield descended into chaos. Wolves clashed in a violent dance of teeth and claws, their growls and yelps creating a cacophony of sound that echoed through the valley. Hana fought with a ferocity that matched the rage in her heart, her movements a blur as she tore through the enemy ranks. Each time she brought one down, another took its place, but she didn’t falter. She couldn’t.

Hunger is a monster. It sinks its claws into my gut, gnawing, tearing, devouring me from the inside out. My body is shutting down, drained of strength, stripped of any ounce of power I once had. The Ascendants have made their decision. If I won’t drink blood willingly, they’ll make me suffer for it. They starve me. They drain me. Day after day, I’m strapped down, cold needles piercing my skin, pulling what little life I have left.

(Katniss) “NO! You can’t die on me, Richard! Not after what you just revealed to me! I’m not the right person you should be telling those words to!” I took my dagger and slit my palm. Blade once told me that my blood was special. It worked on him once. And I was hoping now more than ever that it was true, that it would work on Richard, too. “Please don’t die, Richard. You need to tell those words to your son. You owe it to him!” I fed him my blood while desperately searching for Blade in the crowd. When I saw him, I screamed, “Blade!”

“That day, Roamur and Renné approached the center of the field along with Mavi and Ruby, my parents, moving away from their armies to talk. No one could hear what was said from that distance, but I saw when Renné stepped closer to my father. They seemed to be speaking peacefully… until Roamur lunged at her, ripped open her belly, and crushed her skull.” I looked around as if the memories were being projected onto the trees around me. “Then, with his fur drenched in his mate’s blood, he howled to the sky, giving the signal. The armies charged, and the bloodbath began. None of mine survived, no one but me.”

It wasn't a curse delivered by an enemy; it was a biological, cellular rot born of an unquenchable, starving madness. The chronic disease flooded the original bloodlines, short-circuiting their higher intellects, burning away their speech, their strategies, and their beautiful memories until the grand creators were reduced to the mindless, zombie-like husks that the modern world now called the Blood-born. They became slaves to a baseline, ravenous instinct to feed on anything that carried a heartbeat, buried alive beneath a mountain of starving rot.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

A whisper hissed in Alice’s mind: The war starts here, weapon. A note fluttered from her pocket, unnoticed until now: Fight or fall, weapon. The courtyard seals it. The crescent moon symbol glared, and the streetlamps flickered, the rally’s distant noise fading to a drone. Alice’s scar glowed brighter, heat surging, and she froze, the cult’s plan tightening like a noose. She bolted across the courtyard, Kane’s voice calling, Liam’s plea echoing, Mira’s text burning, Rhea’s taunt biting, Elara’s touch fading. The cult’s web was closing, and she was its center.

Shattered on stone like a bomb detonating. Ceramic shrapnel exploded. One piece—razor-sharp, spinning—caught her palm. Sliced to bone. Blood poured. Rich. Red. Alive. The smell detonated in my brain. Everything human vanished. Erased. Gone. The hunger didn't rise—it consumed me. BLOOD. MINE. TAKE. NOW. I moved. Pure instinct. Pure need. No thought. No choice. Vampire speed. One second seated. The next—across the table. Hand around the maid's throat. Lifting her off the ground.

My voice echoed off the bloody walls but no one answered. The silence was deafening. No one was coming for me. "Alexei!" I screamed again, louder this time. "You coward! Face me!" Still nothing. Just the sound of my own voice bouncing back at me. Then suddenly my stomach rumbled loudly. The hunger had become unbearable. Shit! I cursed in frustration. Even if no one came to kill me, I would die of hunger and thirst. This was Alexei's plan all along. To leave me here to rot.