Bump On Skin Filled With Blood Novels & Stories

Blood. Looking down, the skin around my wound was red and inflamed. The actual rune marks themselves looked damn near festering. It hurt like hell and I groaned. Pressing my hand against it, I let out a roar as it shook me. There was no way this was how it was supposed to be. Something was wrong with the magic.

It weakens me more. It also inflict undesired injuries and peel outer layers of my skin. It gives me first degree burns. Numerous blood also drip from it. Numerous blood pint have I lost. Blood flows and stains every nearby object. My red coloured blood heavily stains and recolours the green coloured wolfs bane coated rope. It also drip down the rope, through am arm and down my body. A huge blood pool currently forms beneath hanging me. Courtesy of my heavily dripping blood. My second skin layer is also affected.

The little guy was in shock and even on the brink of tears. His knee was bent at an unnatural angle, the skin there was already swelling and darkening. Crimson blood trickled from the deep scrape. But what sent a jolt of terror gushing through me was the way his shinbone jutted awkwardly beneath the skin, showing it was clearly broken.

Three fingers are already missing, the skin around the stumps looked like they were peeling off. What in the horror shit is this?! Julian is still--for some reason-- watching, as Enzo comes back to the middle aged man, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Blood coats every inch of his tattooed forearms and shirt-- so much blood that the shirt was literally clinging to him.

My heart sank and my breathing got stumped. My hands sweeped over it and my orbs widened in horror. Blood. It spread rapidly round the area, tainting my gown and casting a sinister hue of red upon my gown. The liquid cascaded onto the beach sands, imprinting its crimson stains upon the grains. My heartbeat accelerated with each passing moment, intensified by another wave of excruciating pain. This time, the anguish centered right above my left breast. Similar to its bloody counterpart, it surged swiftly, tainting my gown with its scarlet red stains.

As the afternoon light filters in, I finally manage to rise, my body aching as if it’s been hit by a train. I groan, rolling over to find myself face to face with Braden’s side, his ribs rising and falling with each breath, and my eyes drift to his birthmark. It an unusal mark and I have never seen it at this angle before. Up close, it looks more like… teeth marks. The color is darker red nearly purple, almost angry, and the outline is distinct, as if something once sank into his skin and left a permanent reminder. My finger traces it lightly, feeling a subtle indentation, and I swear it matches the shape of a bite.

But before I could hand it over, he was in front of me, moving faster than I expected. His hand lifted, brushing my cheek. I flinched. His eyes narrowed. His thumb swiped lightly against my skin, smudging the concealer. And there it was—the bruise. God! I should have known he would know but I didn't expect him here. “What the hell is this?” His voice dropped, dangerous. “Uhm...It’s nothing,” I said quickly, stepping back. My heart raced, my palms sweating. “I just fell, that’s all—”

The skin surrounding the bite is deeply bruised with dark purple and blue colors, and the two distinct puncture marks are fully sealed but still look incredibly sensitive to the touch. Seth unscrews the cap of the saline bottle and pours a small amount of the cold liquid onto a clean cotton pad. He presses the damp cotton directly against the bruised skin to clean away any remaining dried blood, and Beau lets out a very soft, involuntary whimper at the sudden sting of the sterile solution. Seth immediately slows his movements down, and he leans his face close to Beau's ear to speak in a deeply soothing tone while he continues to clean the area.

My feet touched the cold floor and I stood up, and that’s when I felt it. The inside of my right thigh burned. I looked down, the mark was still there. Two small punctures, perfectly aligned, just above the femoral artery. The skin around it was reddish, but not inflamed. The punctures weren’t bleeding. They had no scab. They looked… fresh. As if they had been made minutes ago, not hours. And around them, a purple luminescence so faint that I could have convinced myself it was my imagination. It wasn’t.

When the pain finally eases enough for me to breathe, I glance down. The heartbloom is there just as it was before. Perfect and alive. Blood-red petals are etched into my skin, with veins of green curling outward as if the flower is rooted in my flesh once more. The vines wrapped around my arm loosen slowly and reluctantly, before retreating back into the cracked stone like they were never there at all. The air rushes inward. The crack seals halfway. It is still visible, but no longer bleeding wind. I stare at my shoulder in horror.