Bounty Hunter Bloods Hand Signs Novels & Stories

Someone had sent them. The real question was who. I grabbed the closest attacker by the throat and slammed him against a boulder. "Who sent you?" I asked. He just smiled, showing bloody teeth. "The old bloodlines will rise again," he whispered before biting down on something in his mouth. Poison. He was dead within seconds. "Coward," I spat, dropping his body. My Beta, Kane, limped over to me. Blood ran down his arm from a deep cut. "They had some kind of symbol on their guns. A crescent moon with a crown."

Giving him one wont be a problem to me, of course I agree to it. "Then I would begin the Oath…Give my your hand your Highness….". As he hold my right hand, he bit his index finger and draw a tribal marks and draconic words on my hand, from my fore hand down to the end of my fingers was fill with bloodied drawing.

"Because only your blood is special, and you have the power of the blood talent awakening in you, just a little blood, it is enough, if it is someone else, even if the whole body blood is depleted, it is useless." Quintas replied. "Well, you just remember to help me beat Borkana hard, or I'll stuff you into this tree too." I said to Quintas, as a reminder and a warning of sorts. If he broke his promise, I would definitely stuff him back into the tree. "Put your hand out." He said to me. I cooperated and held my hand out. A red glow floated past my hand, and a sharp pain came and blood flowed from the wound.

Scars crisscrossed his torso, each one a story of violence I wasn't sure I wanted to know. But it was the tattoo over his heart that drew my attention. Dark ink etched into his skin, forming words I couldn't quite make out. I squinted, trying to decipher the script. "Bound by blood, sealed in blood." The words sent a chill down my spine, a stark reminder of the dangerous world I had been thrust into.

The blood glowed faintly white, bright as moonlight. Malachai followed, slicing his hand in silence — his blood darker, like ink. Cassian went last, his grin never fading as his blood shimmered faint gold. They turned to me. I took the dagger, my pulse pounding. The blade was cold against my skin. I drew it across my palm, slow, steady. My blood burned — red and gold, merging into one. Our hands met over the Gate’s crater. Blood fell onto the glowing sigil. The earth trembled.

Her eyes scan the ground to where the baseball bat lies between the two of them. "Oh, I don't need a weapon. Rather, I enjoy getting my hands dirty." Hunter declares, flexing his arm as he cracks his knuckles, making the tattoo of the scythe or a Grimm Reaper's blade twist on his arm in a menacing manner. The woman takes one look at the tattoo before gulping. Hunter takes a challenging step towards her, forcing her to take a step backward. The woman stumbles once more, petrified, as tears begin to slip from her eyes.

His voice was full of a rare worry. "Ending this," Rhea said. She sliced her palm. The blood was a bright, vivid red. She pressed her hand to the white stone. "I, Rhea Mooncrest, Omega of the Silverfang, offer my blood for a treaty of peace. I bind the wolf to the vampire. I bind the moon to the night." She looked at Ash. "Sign it, Ash. Sign it or lose me forever." Ash looked at the altar. He looked at the dark shadows swirling beneath the stone. He took the dagger. He cut his hand. He pressed it next to hers. "I sign."

Or was it because of my determination? Inhale, exhale… The Blue Moon touched my skin with its cold light. It was time to summon the Goddess. I slowly lifted my hands, raising my open palms to the sky. At the command in my mind, all the candles lit up at once. With another silent command, the knife flew from the ground and landed in my hand. I grabbed it and made a deep cut across my palm. With thick drops of my blood, I drew ancient symbols—the summoning.

she nodded, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. With a deliberate motion, she extended her hand and drew a dagger across her index finger. To everyone’s surprise, her blood floated into the air, forming a single drop that shimmered in the light. “Please contribute your blood to the oath,” she instructed, handing the dagger to the nearest person.

Ava's hand trembled in mine, and I gave it a reassuring squeeze, trying to calm her nerves. The priestess held up a small, ornate dagger, its blade glinting in the flickering torchlight. With a swift motion, she pricked our thumbs, and a tiny drop of blood welled up on each. She then pressed our thumbs together, and our blood mingled, symbolizing the unbreakable bond between us.