Bloodshot Dc Novels & Stories

That this flight wasn’t some nightmare too vivid to be real. This wound was real. Dreams didn’t put holes through a person’s thigh. She let her head fall back against the tree and stared up at the canopy. November’s stripped branches carved jagged silhouettes against a sky suspended between black and blue—the exact shade of someone caught at a crossroads. Her consciousness had started going cotton. Light, fraying at the edges—textbook blood loss, recalled from a first aid class she’d spent critiquing the city’s ambulance GPS routing. But enough logic remained to tell her one thing: stop moving.

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.

"Senior, will Darryl have any side effects after he exchanges blood with Dax?" Divine Farmer laughed when he knew Debra was worried about Darryl. He said, "Don't worry. Darryl has protection from the Red Lotus Fayette. Taking a little blood will not hurt him. After the transfusion, he will still be energetic. It won't ruin the plan you guys have for tonight." Chester and the disciples burst out in laughter. The way they looked at Darryl and Debra changed. Everyone knew the relationship between Darryl and Debra, but no one ever hinted at something so lustful. Furthermore, they had no idea Divine Farmer was such a witty individual.

『.*+ •ᴄʜᴀᴘ. ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ+ •*.』 SCARLETT GROWLED AS HER OCEANIC EYES WERE ENGULFED INTO BLOODSHOT FIERY RED ORBS.

--- Inside the main workshop. Twisted bodies convulsed, clinging to rafters, nails grown into hooked iron. Blood leaked from their eyes, mouths and chests. Their screams were a rasping hybrid of human and animal. Lucien extended a hand; blood energy radiated from him and formed a red shield around Evelyn. “You can’t kill these with ordinary rounds. Only fire will do.” His voice was hoarse. Evelyn nodded, drew the flame nozzle from her sidearm, and pulled the trigger. A ribbon of blue plasma swept out, devouring the creatures in a sea of fire.

Her tears soaked Darren's shoulder as he carried her away, his grip unyielding, fueled by a possessive determination. Blood had welled up from a deep gash on Stanley's cheekbone, flowing in a rivulet down the side of his face. The crimson liquid painted a stark contrast against his pale skin, creating a grotesque tableau of violence and pain. The wound oozed with an intensity that matched the anger pulsating within Darren, a testament to the ferocity with which he had struck his rival.

...Darius POV... I touched the ground around where Wynter was. I needed to figure out what had happened. I could tell from the strong scent in the air that she was here. Not only that, but she was afraid. I felt absolutely helpless. Almost as if my body was possessed, I could feel my hand go to the base of the tree. My eyes ran to the back of my head as images started to unfold in my mind. I could see Wynter running for her life. She'd been shot multiple times and had recently shifted out of her wolf form. Her perfect body was covered in blood and bullet holes. But from the looks of her injuries, these were basic bullets that she had been shot with. I could see black veins rung through her b

A thin layer of frost covered her brows and eyelashes, making her look like a sleeping ice fairy. Jack reached out, his hand trembling, unable to touch her. He could feel the chill emanating from her body, freezing the surrounding air. “Alcatel…” Jack’s voice was hoarse with extreme pain, “12 hours…we won’t even reach the center of the Pacific!” “Boss…” a weak voice came. Victor lay on another bed, Marcus treating the gunshot wound in his shoulder. “Old Scar’s” mercenaries used “Silver Core” bullets, specifically designed to deal with supernatural beings.

It takes all my strength to get the deadweight on to the makeshift bed, and I undress the Duke, exposing his pasty skin, reminding me of cold marble. The shaft still sticking out of Bryce's shoulder wasn't a problem since there was a gap between the breast and arm plate. Removing everything was a cinch, but the blood loss raises my hackles. Bryce's shirt was drenched in blood, and his skin tone is ashen. I'm not a physician, but I