Blushing Lines Novels & Stories

That last inappropriate thought struck Layla with such effect and so much embarrassment and self-loathing that her pale skin flamed scarlet, mortified heat crawling over her entire skin surface. "I’ve never seen anyone blush that deeply," Lucas confided in wonderment, watching the flush trail down her long white throat and dapple that fine skin with a warmer colour. Layla told him roundly, "You’re supposed to pretend you didn’t notice, not embarrass me further." I used to go through agonies of blushing when I was a kid. It’s the fault of my fair skin—it’s very conspicuous. "

I said. “Obviously.” “I’m not going to look at you.” “You’re looking at me right now.” “This is different.” “How?” “Because right now there aren’t NHL scouts and cameras and your entire future career between us.” “There’s three hours of highway between us and you’re still blushing.” “I’m not blushing.” “Your chest is red.” I looked down. The flush had spread from my neck across my collarbones, visible above the neckline of my oversized T-shirt. “That’s — a temperature thing.”

Her body trembles with fear and shame, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Doesn't feeling ashamed make your cheeks flush and your heart race? Are you masquerading as me to win over Blake once more? Did you have to take away his parents in such a brutal manner?" she asked, her fingers fumbling as she released the grip on her “Artemis” garment. I couldn't help but recall the image of her jittery figure as she hastily changed her attire. The substance is crimson red, indicating that it is blood. "I'm completely lost in understanding what you're saying—"

They were scattered all over her body, like a macabre map of pain, each one telling its own story of agony and torment. Some were thin, red lines that snaked their way across her flesh, while others were thicker and raised, like angry ridges on a barren landscape. And then there were the bruises - dark, angry splotches that seemed to pulse with their own inner fire, as if the pain they represented was alive and thriving.

“What is it, child?” We rarely use the bloodline link. So if I’m using it now, my mother knows it’s urgent. “I know,” I pushed back. It had started to burn— the bloodline link. “Lior, he’s been marked with a curse.” Silence slammed down, but I felt her fear. Then with sharp, controlled urgency. She said… “Describe it.” I swallowed, my eyes opening as Lior’s rash comes to mind. “It spreads when he rests. Like angry veins… red blotches...”

It was spreading, quickly, moving up my arm toward my elbow. Rian finally met my gaze. His eyes were wide. Not with coldness, but with alarm. “That is not right,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a low, panicked growl. “The stabilization should be scent only. It should not be visible.” I stared at the blue line tracing the path of my veins. It was moving faster now. It was reaching my elbow. It pulsed faintly, like a living vein of icy color. Rian reached out. His fingers brushed the blue line on my forearm. The instant his skin touched the color, the line flared. It intensified to a brilliant, terrifying cerulean blue.

l am telling you the difference between Smiling and blushing" favoue corrected. She folded her arms across her chest as she spoke. "So, what you're saying is that you weren't blushing but smiling?". Matt asked with a raised brow. "Exactly." "Oh, I see." Matt nodded and tapped his lips with his finger. "Then why are your cheeks so red, if you aren't blushing? Are your cheeks hurting?". "My cheek hurts so much that I can't even explain why". Favour replied, following his words too. "But, you've been blushing all day and it gets me wondering why your cheek doesn't seem to hurt because if it hurts I'm sure you won't keep doing it the entire time."

It was difficult to suppress, so she bit down on her lower lip, a makeshift dam against the joyous ripple threatening to spill over. Heat radiated from her cheeks, spreading to the tips of her ears. It felt like a telltale blush, a delicate bloom of roses on her fair skin. She was acutely aware of Azazel's piercing gaze on her, his amusement as palpable as the plush velvet beneath her fingertips. She prayed, oh how she prayed, that her blush wasn't as noticeable as she felt it was. A silent plea to the universe, her wishful attempt to hide the overwhelming emotions playing across her face.

“How do I know when a lady's blushing?” She looked at me, raising a surprised brow. “Why do you want to know that?” “Fine. You can ask me a question too. Answer mine.” “Well,” She placed her fingers on her smooth cheeks. “Here, right here. It goes all hot, and maybe a little pink. I don't know. My face doesn't grow pink though.” I tried my best not to let loose my laughter. Even as she spoke, her whole face looked like a tomato. She continued, “...Then, there's the neck, the ears, and probably the girl's reactions.” Even as she spoke, her eyes still never met mine.

“His jaw looks like his skull doesn’t have any skin on it. Like, all boney and shit.” “So, chiseled?” Jade asked, voice a little too excited. “Too chiseled,” I snorted. “With eyes that are too blue to be human. And muscles that practically scream steroids. Oh, and not to mention the veins in his hands that would kill him if he held a piece of paper the wrong way.” Silence greeted me from the other end. “Jade?” I asked, trying to make sure my friend wasn’t dead. “Are you there?”