Bloodstained Best Familiar Novels & Stories

" what is the worst thing than bathing in your own mate's blood ? His wolf ryder aksd him suddenly which made him frozen as he looked at the blood marks on his body .His heart ached as he looked at the wet but still dry blood ." He took his finger and took a glimpse of her blood on his finger and looked at it, He smelt it, pleasure ran through his body as he smelt it, " That why you are scent is so addictive cara , he murmured and he then did the worst , he licked her blood "

And then we used the rope to climb down to our parents’ room and entered the room unaware of the fact that, it was actually a theatre of real life R-rated film. Madarashi entered there first followed by me. When I entered I saw, because of some reason Madarashi froze there. And soon, I found out a horrible scene! I saw my father was standing there with two daggers in his hand and our mother was lying on the ground covered in blood, cuts and bruises. This scene had two different reactions in me and Madarashi . He started to scream out loud like he had gone berserk and for me, I couldn’t even move, my senses went numb. Because of his scream, father knew that we were there. He, with a daring fa

he screamed frustration and nerves piling in on him "She...she....boss, sir Raymond called me this morning. He says his father has her locked up in the dungeon." By the time they were done with her, Julia couldn't feel her feet. She still refused to talk, and Richard just but stared at her battered up frame. She looked pale and weary, blood soaking the most of her feet. The cleaners uniform she wore was now red and blue, the white part having disappeared into the blood. Her nose oozed blood and her vision was beginning to blur out. She was a bloody mess

Damien’s voice cut through the air, his tone losing its usual cold edge. Before I could answer, a warm, thick rush of fluid soaked through the fabric of my clothes, spilling onto the light-colored rug. I looked down, my vision blurring as the unmistakable, deep crimson stain expanded rapidly. I was hemorrhaging. The sheer volume of blood was terrifying, pooling around me on the floor within seconds.

he sighed, a sound of genuine, disappointed resignation. He pressed down. The blade tore into the flesh of my left forearm. A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from my throat, my body violently jerking against the heavy metal chair. The thick leather straps bit mercilessly into my wrists and chest, holding me pinned, offering no escape from the searing heat of the blade. Hot, crimson blood began to well up from the deep, clean line he had drawn, spilling over my skin and dripping slowly, rhythmically, onto the pristine white tile floor. In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black.

Into his trust. “Do we have an understanding, Lia?” he asked, emphasizing the false name. “Yes,” she forced out, the word tasting like surrender. “Start tomorrow. Be here at eight.” He turned his back, a dismissal. As she reached the door, his voice stopped her again. “And Lia? Clean your knuckles. The blood under your fingernails is too careful. Too clean. Real blood stays for days.”

That memory haunted him and it always would. A lot of shit haunted Gage. Dead bodies didn’t bother him anymore since the first one he saw had been his mother’s. One day she’d been reading him a story and tucking him into bed after Hunter had already gone to sleep and the next day she was in her bathtub, bleeding out as he watched her. ** “Gage … I’m sorry,” she mumbled. Gage stood next to the bathtub and stroked her hair. The blood ran down her arms and mingled with the water. Her nightdress was soaked through and her breathing was shallow. Gage looked into her eyes and kissed her forehead softly.

Blood drips from my chin, my palms, my ribs. The fifth step glows sickly green. I snarl and slam my torn hand down on it, shoving raw blood and fury into the crack—the stone screeches—a sound like a throat-ripping apart under too much strain. The runes burst. The teeth crack, spitting bone shards across the walls. The entire stairwell heaves—convulsing like a dying animal trying to puke up its own heart. Kael grabs my arm and yanks me upright with bruising force—no comfort, no apology.