Blown Vein Hand Novels & Stories

I knew my ability had its limits but I had to at least try. Slowly I moved my hands onto the wolf's neck. The minute I touched him I gasped, unable to breath properly. The pain barreled through me and I fought the urge to cry out, biting my lip hard. My muscles burned as I let his pain in. I watched as the color drained from my hand and up my arms, leaving my arms looking ghostly. The veins in my hands seemed to enlarge, raising my skin around it. I felt myself growing weaker, but I pressed on, seeing the wounds start to close despite the blood dripping from my nose.

Alas, he suddenly halted in shock. Originally, one of his hands had been the normal white color while the other was riddled by black veins from his last battle. They had already spread a bit, delaying the response when he told his fingers to move. Now, however, he couldn't tell anymore which hand it had been. They were both pure white. If he didn't know any better, he would think that he was never affected to begin with.

“Most of the inner walls of your veins have hardened. It isn't an illness but rather a cold energy that's freezing your veins. “I assume that you started having this condition after fighting with someone? It seems to me that he was aiming to end your journey as a fighter. How vicious!” Carl nodded in appreciation. She had been able to determine the source of his injuries very quickly, so she had really lived up to her name as the disciple of the Living Reaper. David then asked worriedly, “Dr. Lynn, is there a way to treat my father?” Naomi hesitated for a moment before saying, “A vein injury is the hardest to treat. First, we need to remove the cold energy freezing the veins… “And we can’t d

I blinked, chest still heaving, then looked at Lyra. “What did you do?” I demanded. “What happened?” No one answered. My breath caught as I dropped to my knees beside Gabriel. His chest heaved, every rise and fall like a struggle against gravity. The black cracks that spread from his wounded hand looked darker now—thicker. Like they were alive. “Gabriel,” I whispered. My hands trembled as I reached out. I didn’t even know what I was doing—just that my instincts screamed to help. But the moment my fingers hovered over the worst of the blackened veins near his shoulder, I hesitated.

it has to be. The veins in my arms were changing colour, turning darker to almost black. It was spreading further and further up to cover my entire left hand And that's when I felt the numbness to enter...my entire left arm was numb...and I couldn't feel it. What was it in his claws? Were they coated in poison or what? A normal wound or claw mark wouldn't do this. Then what was this? "Alex! Dammit! Speak!" I scream through the mindlink. Removing the mask covering my face and throwing on my way with my good hand, before it also starts turning numb.

I was now feeling pain from my head and knees, but I wouldn’t stop. Not now. Not ever. “This is for you, Cammy.” I took a deep breath, jabbing my veins with the glass—fully knowing the consequence. I might never use my hands again. Omegas hardly heal fast.

BOUND BY THE VEIN CONTENT WARNING This novel contains material intended for mature audiences only (18+). It includes themes and scenes involving: Graphic violence Blood and feeding Sexual content Obsession and psychological manipulation Power imbalance and coercive dynamics Death and dark supernatural horror elements 🚫Reader discretion is strongly advised. COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Veinweave available Target: Remy Tsatoke-Calder Severity: Compound fracture + internal bleeding Estimated time to full repair: 43 seconds Consent detected I don’t think. I just lay both hands on his chest and let the new skill tree bloom open. Veinweave isn’t red lightning or scary blood tentacles. It’s gentle. A thousand tiny threads of crimson light (no thicker than spider silk) slip from my palms, slide under his skin like they were always meant to be there. They find every torn vessel, every shredded muscle fiber, every shard of bone. And they sing. Soft, warm, Caddo lullaby notes only he and I can hear.

—like two notes of different frequencies being played simultaneously. Her fingers emerged from her pockets and touched his wrist. The tips of her fingers brushed against the skin on the inside of his wrist—the skin there was very thin, with veins faintly visible beneath. Blue veins resembled tributaries of a river. His pulse beat beneath her fingertips, each beat striking against her fingers at a faster rate than she had expected.

"Adrian, please," "That vase is worth more than your entire existence." His voice was low, controlled, which was somehow worse than screaming. He shoved me back down, hard, and my hand landed directly on a broken piece. The pain shot up my arm immediately. "Ow, Adrian!" I cried, grabbing my hand. Blood was already coming through my fingers, warm and fast. "My hand, look at my hand," "You're lucky it's only your hand. Clean every single piece of this up before I'm back." He straightened his shirt, didn't even look at my hand. "Or next time you won't be so lucky."