Blue Veins In Palm Of Hand Novels & Stories

He’s sitting quietly beside the bed, his eyes hollow and deeply haunted, meticulously wiping my hands with a damp, cool cloth. It’s only when I look down at my own skin that I realize my palms are bleeding, but it isn’t blood. It’s something darker and thicker than blood. Black veins, glistening unnervingly like spilled oil, crawl rapidly up my wrists from my palms. Oh no... residue of the dark magic. It must be responding to my contact with it's father, though it was in the dream world. His eyes are haunted by what he sees, but when I open my mouth to frantically try to explain, he forces a small, weak smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Lior's right hand moves to the left forearm, pressing against it, and the motion exposes the inside of the wrist for a moment before being covered again. But a moment is enough. The veins beneath the skin have darkened. Not the deep bruised color of normal vampire circulation. Something darker than that. Something that runs in thin branching lines up toward the elbow the way frost patterns run across glass, black at the center and fading to dark gray at the edges, spreading even as Lucian watches in the second before Lior covers the arm again. Lior looks up. Meets Lucian's eyes with the gold gaze that has never looked uncertain until this moment.

I put my hand on my forehead and waited for everything to stop moving. The black veins caught my eye. They were worse. So much worse. Yesterday, they had only been on my hands and wrists, creeping up my arms like dark little rivers under my skin. Now they had spread past my elbows. I could see them clearly through my nightgown, crawling up toward my shoulders. When I touched my neck, I felt the bumpy lines there too. They had reached my collarbone. I was running out of time.

The pain starts to increase but when the same blue light from the other day appears on my palm, it instantly disappears, and the wound closes like It was never there. I used to heal up quickly but with the poisons they keep getting in my body, they make my beasts weak to heal me. And now the blue light? Strange.

His beautiful blue eyes have turned a shade of red, like a crimson fire burning beneath the surface of cyan ice. “Marco?” I ask softly. His wolven ears twitch at the sound of my voice, and his gaze dives into me. My heart pounds in my chest, my breathing ragged as I take in the sight of him. His clothes have been reduced to torn rags, his shirt is utterly destroyed, and his pants are shredded. But the strangest thing is the silver line across the base of his palm. I’ve never seen anything like it before. The silver vein glows as if moonlight and steel flowed through it instead of blood, flickering and pulsing softly like a heartbeat. I watch in horror as the silver begins to spread slowly, r

I immediately retracted my hand and placed it on my thigh. I wouldn't be surprised if she'll touch my palm despite seeing how it was dangerously glowing. To her it might seem attractive due to how clumsy she is. "What happened to your hand? Why is it different from mine and strange? Why does it keep glowing? Why does it have has green lines like glowing veins?"

I gathered a little amount of water in my palms and splashed it all over my face, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling I was having right now. My heart feels heavy these days. I can't explain it, but sometimes it feels like as if something is crushing it. I looked at myself in the mirror, and when I looked closely, I saw a weird looking black mark peeking in my chest. I moved my shirt down a little and I gasped when I saw a thin black line of veins in my chest. "Why didn't I notice this? Why is this happening, I thought I still had plenty of time." I muttered, confused.

Anna asked. He didn't respond, only lifted his arm and extended it toward her. His wrist was lean and elegant, the long, well-defined bones of his fingers almost mesmerizing. But he'd had too many injections lately. The veins along his wrist stood out starkly, trailing across the back of his hand. It was a pitiful sight. Michelle glanced once, then looked away. It hurt to see. Anna pressed her fingers gently against his pulse, concentrating for a long moment before speaking again.

Any thermometer would have failed to measure what I could see what I could feel. There were black veins. Thin, unnatural lines moving beneath his skin, like living ink made of shadow itself. They pulsed, spreading with each heartbeat. I had seen similar cases, but nothing like this. They’d started at his ankles, creeping upward, pulsing with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Now they had reached his waist. If they crossed any further, spread past that point, he’d be gone. Not in the usual medical sense. Gone entirely. I pressed my fingers against his wrist again, feeling the pulse. Weak, but it was there. Just barely.

When I stepped into the bathroom, I realized that my eyes were glowing ominously. I blink my eyes repeatedly, but it doesn’t seem to change anything. The dull red color in my eyes is terrifying. I slowly raise my hand up to touch my face, that’s when I notice my hand and wrist. There are huge green veins popping out of it, as if my skin is trying to morph into something else. Is that why my body aches? A sudden knock on the bathroom door makes me jump out of my erratic thoughts. “Rhea, you’ve been in there a while. Are you okay?” Finn asks from behind the door.