Blue Veins Under My Tongue Novels & Stories

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.

His palm tore away from the stone, leaving a bloodstain that was slowly absorbed by the black rock, as if the stone were licking it clean. "Damn it! You were out for three minutes!" Stefan shouted, his face frantic. Siron coughed, his head throbbing with pain. But inside him, something was different. The weave in his veins, his golden threads, were now adorned with two new, thin strands: one pale blue, one light pink. They were fragile, almost transparent, but they were THERE. "Can you see them?" Siron hissed, showing his veins to Stefan. Stefan narrowed his eyes, then gave a slow nod. "There are... other colors. Very faint. You did it?"

There's one protruding vein that starts on the under side and runs around the top, and it calls to me like a siren. Without thinking, I drop to my knees, coming eye level with his package, a gift to me, right there ready for consuming. I don't wait for an invitation or even permission. I seize the base in my hand and the head with my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip before consuming all of him in one slow motion until my lips meet my fingers.

There were dark lines crawling under his flesh, veins gone black like ink spilled through water. “Started this morning,” he said quietly. “I thought it was nothing. Stress. But…” He trailed off. His voice shook. Luca’s face drained of color. He pulled back his own cuff. Same thing. Black veins spiderwebbing beneath pale skin. The air left my lungs. “No,” I whispered. “That’s not possible.” But when I looked down at my own hands, at the faint shadows starting to bloom beneath the surface, I knew it was real. The silence that followed was deafening.

He is comparing data points. He pushes my t-shirt up. "Ciro, don't." "Hush." He exposes my chest to the cool air. He looks at me. In the moonlight, the veins beneath my skin are visible. Blue rivers mapping a new landscape. They are darker than usual. More prominent. He traces one with his finger. A cool, rough line of sensation. "You feel... different," he whispers. He looks at the nipple. It is darker. Larger. He brushes it with his thumb.

I reached down and yanked the fabric out of the way. He swelled instantly in the cool air of the room, the thick blue veins along the shaft pulsing with every thud of his heart. I leaned down until my nose almost touched the head. I blew on it. The muscle jumped. I flicked the tip with the very end of my tongue, tasting the sharp, bitter drop of pre-come. Adriel groaned, a deep, rattling sound that came from his chest. I let my tongue slide down the underside, tracing the thick vein until I hit his balls. They were tight, heavy, and hot against my skin. I cupped them in my palm, feeling the weight of him, memorising the exact shape of his body under my hands.

The only person allowed to be more upset than me is her and the kids at this very moment. Nodding at my father's awfully angry face, especially given the circumstances, I look back down at my sleeping beauty. Now, as what usually happens minutes after giving a human venom of a vampire- hybrid in this case which only makes it that much better- I can see the once lightly coloured blue veins running down her neck now rotting black, indicating that it's working.

"Check your chest. Now." My hand flew to my sternum before I was even fully awake. I sucked in a breath. It rattled like a bag of dry gravel. The brand—the jagged 'X'—didn't just glow anymore. The skin around it had turned a sick, necrotic purple. Black veins branched out from the center, crawling toward my collarbone like ink dropped in water. It pulsed. A low, wet throb that made my vision swim with static.

Retreating into shadow. Click. A faint sound. Barely audible. The blood vessel along the side of his neck finally ruptured. Dark blood slid downward. And beneath his collar— something began growing. Golden-black vines. Twisting. Spreading. Crawling upward across his throat. Toward a face already consumed by murderous intent.

“Longer, but worse since yesterday.” “Take her wrist,” Jorin tells King Ardon. “Hold it, not tight.” He rolls back my sleeve. His fingers find the tendons along my forearm. He presses along the veins like he’s reading a list under the skin. He lifts my eyelid and checks the whites and then he puts two fingers against the side of my throat and counts under his breath. “Tongue,” he says. I open my mouth. He peers in and nods once, then unscrews a small bottle from his kit. The smell of mint and bitter root lifts off it. He places a few drops under my tongue and holds my jaw shut with careful pressure.