Blue Veins Showing In Arms Novels & Stories

The veins along his forearms pulsed with a subtle, faint golden light beneath his skin—so faint I thought my exhausted eyes were playing tricks on me. He slid his palm slowly across the surface of the coarse fabric. Before my very eyes, the impossible happened. Where his skin touched the rough, stiff fibers, the harsh, uneven muddy beige began to bleed away. A rich, deep, iridescent midnight-blue spread through the threads like liquid ink soaking into dry paper, radiating outward in soft, shimmering waves. But it wasn't just the color.

his voice rang out in the room, and nanoseconds later, the darkness was flooded with a flurry of light. “How do you feel, Princesa?” I blinked again, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light, and that was when I saw him moving towards me, his face a mask of concern. “Lazaro,” I mumbled, trying to lift myself on my elbows, but he quickly strode over, gently nudging me back on the bed. “Don’t try to get up,” he ordered, his tone gruff. “You need maximum rest.” “But,” I licked my lips, blinking again, “w-what happened? Why am I here?” I looked around, at the fluid that was being passed through my veins, at the heavily-antiseptic smelling room.

It glances off his chest with a hard thump. Instead of falling over, he pauses, then looks at me with murder in his eyes. Ares is in awful shape, but his anger is beyond feeling mortal pain. I try to secure my sword with both hands, but it’s impossible. My bad arm feels numb, but not numb like I would expect it to with a severe shoulder injury. I look down at my arm. Black veins are spreading down to my fingers. I crane my neck to see my shoulder. The edges of the wound are black and peeling away from my body.

My vision flickered and spots of black clouded my sight, but I did not know why. It could not be grief, could it? That would be too humiliating. 'Lana Branch, you really misjudged him, didn't you?'

The black veins that used to run down his chest and stomach had receded and now only crawl up his neck and down his right arm. Luz’s own eyes followed her gaze down his chest, where the black veins that once covered his chest now seemed to have retreated significantly. The pulsing black veins still visible along his right arm and creeping up his throat, but the majority of his torse was free of the marks. “What are looking at?” he asked gruffly, though his tone lacked its usual edge. His fingers tightening slightly on her thigh watched her trace the new boundaries of the black veins. “It… it is like it is afraid of you,” he observed quietly, his voice carrying that older, more vulnerable ton

So why am I feeling so drained, and why does my arm throb? I pull up the soaked sleeve to inspect the area that is giving me issues and gasp out loud when I see not just a mass of dark bruising, but my veins are a deep hue of purple and angry looking. My throat goes dry when I see a small hole, no bigger than a needle, but bright red, sitting in the center of the bruising and discolored veins. What did they do to me? It’s the logical question, the only one that comes to mind. They, whoever it was that attacked me, must have caused this.

Black spots danced in and out like they were testing how far they could go before I dropped. I waited it out, counting sheeps slowly in my head until the spinning eased enough for me to stand. Each step toward the mirror felt heavier than it should have. And when I finally looked? I went completely still. The veins had changed though they appear faint and one will miss if you weren’t looking for them. But they were darker now and it wasn’t just around the mark. They’d spread slightly witj thin lines branching just beneath the skin creeping downward toward my chest like cracks in glass.

Almost gently. * * * Caelan was at his desk. Not working — papers pushed aside. Sitting with his face in his hands, shirt open at the collar, the way a shirt opened when a man had stopped thinking about what he looked like. So I saw them. The veins. Black, fine as thread, spreading in a branching pattern from the centre of his chest — not like bruising, like something drawn with intention. They crossed his sternum, reached toward his ribs, and one branch climbed the left side of his throat and stopped, for now, at his collarbone.

Nicole hesitated, then nodded and slipped out. I stood on shaky legs and walked to the mirror. What I saw made my hands tremble more. My wrist curled into a fist. A black vein. It was thin as a spider's thread and crept up from my collarbone toward my neck. What is that? I touched it, expecting heat, but it was cold. I didn't know what it was. I couldn't understand it. But fear crawled up my spine as I stared. I need to hide this. This is too strange.

she asked, sitting up and looking at him intently. "I know," he replied assuredly. Her expression was enough to tell him that his response was not adequate. With a deep sigh, he flipped his right arm over so she could see the injection sight. Cadence gasped in horror. The veins in his arm were a dark green color, almost black, starting where he had inserted the needle near his elbow and running up his arm toward his bicep. The flesh was a lighter shade of green, and she could see it was spreading the other direction as well. "Why is it green?"