Bloodied Hands Adelaide Forrest Novels & Stories

Hereafter, I would be somebody but still me who has successfully see things positively, with the strangers I am with until I open my blind eyes, to the path only a few of my kind have ever reach. I was the Del Heras heiress. Now, I am the Avery Maureen of Forest Survival that will stop the havoc of every haywire heart and mess mind while altering the wrecked perspectives of each untwisted truth in between of lies.

At seeing her cry over him. I wasn’t even thinking, my body just moved. They had all been so kind to me. I knelt on the other side of Brad. Once beside him I ripped away the gauze and bandages on his chest. Then I pushed my hands into his wounds. My fingers touched the bone, muscle, and organs inside him. The rushing sound got stronger and so did the pain I felt from him. I could feel his lungs fluttering against my fingers and his thick hot blood pooled around me. I felt myself pulling his blood into me. I saw it travel up my arms like veins on the outside of my skin until I had absorbed it all. Then I pushed it all back into him and as I did his lungs reinflated, the arteries closed, I fel

The heat around him woke him up, he was drenched in his sweat from fear and of course, heat. Dordin wasn't in a good state of mind, he didn't have time to figure things out because Generosasis had just released fire on her sister, the smell of burning flesh filled the air, this time, the people already knew things were about to get ugly and that was when they got scared. Really scared." Mrs Grassroots paused, sipping the bottle of water in her left hand.

The echo lingered in the air, a stark reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows of the forest. Aurina's feet hammered the forest floor as she raced through the underbrush, hurdling over fallen branches, drawn unerringly by the sound and scent of Bethany. Then I saw it—a slumped figure beneath an old oak, the bark soaked in shadows and sorrow. Bethany's clothes were torn, her body limp, yet the rise and fall of her chest offered a silent testament to her stubbornness, to life. She wasn't moving, save for her labored breaths, and her lifeblood painted the forest floor in a macabre palette of scarlet hues.

Rainn got up off the floor and looked down at himself. His hands and knees were covered in blood. He ran outside to the water trough and tried to scrub his mother's blood from his body as tears streamed down his face. His hands would never be clean again. He scrubbed them until they were almost raw. He wanted to see his father, but Ard’als men would not let him get close.

My chest heaved, and I gazed at my hands in shock before I looked back at the dead vampire. It was not possible. What had I done? What had I become? The scales on my hands and the long claws shimmering made me jump back in shock. They coated different layers of my skin and were a shimmering greenish-blue color that dazzled the eye. Whatever I was, as I stared at Hayden, I knew exactly what I had to do. Seth was being deceived and was going to be killed once Masika succeed in bringing him back to the island but I wasn't going to allow it.

Above Auckland, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds, mirroring the golden city lights below. The night pulsed with energy—alive, unapologetic, and restless. In one of the city's affluent neighborhoods, a young woman danced alone in her bedroom, music loud, spirit louder. Andra Anderson. Tomboy. Rule-breaker. Wild-hearted and free.

I lifted my bloodied face, the mix of blood and cream making for a horrifying sight. I was utterly wretched. I, Cynthia Quinn, was nearly maimed by my boyfriend on my 26th birthday. A crimson haze clouded my vision. In my fading consciousness, the last thing I heard was Xander stammering, "I'm sorry, I really am… I didn't mean to… It wasn't Natasha's fault; I just wanted to tease Cynthia a bit. I never thought—"

Several bottles of liquor littered the floor. Christopher himself was standing before a huge canvas that had an incomplete drawing on it. His white singlet was soiled with paint and sweat and he held the brush tentatively. When he heard the door open, he turned sharply. I thought he was about to yell at me, but he didn’t. he just paused, staring at me as if I was a mystery.

Down at my hands which were a deathly gray, with thin black veins running up my arm. My fingernails had grown into sharp greyish claws that looked almost devilish. And the ground below my hands... It had been green with grass before. Now, the grass was dead. Withered and rotted so completely that they were black, leaning sadly against the ground. I gasped in shock, and pulled my hands away. The grass remained dead. When I reached out a clawed finger and touched it, it crumbled to ash. "What the fuck," Barry whispered.