Drawn To The Bitter Novels & Stories

Is cocktail drink always this unpleasant? This tasted so bitter! I guessed Chris understood the oblivious side of me as his face was beamed with a wicked smirk. “Hot down the throat, right?” He asked before emptying another content into my glass. Damn it! I’ve always thought these darn alcoholic drinks would have a sweet taste to them but no! It's just a fucking bitter crap. “How do you guys manage having this like it’s some sort of water? It’s damn bitter” I murmured, squeezing my face in disgust as its taste lingered on my throat.

Not now. Taking a deep breath, I lifted the thermos to my lips and took a large, bitter swig. The liquid was thick, like sludge, and the taste was worse than I imagined - sharp, sour, and unnatural. I drank it as quickly as I could, forcing it down despite my wolf scratching at the surface of my consciousness, desperate to stop me. But I didn’t let her. I couldn’t let her.

Later That Night – Ariella’s Quarters She fished the battered flask from her pack and knocked back a mouthful. Damn, that stuff was brutal. Felt like swallowing a confession. Or maybe just regret. Drew hadn’t tried anything. Didn’t even shoot her that post-battle, hungry look men usually did—sweaty, wild-eyed, half hoping for a kiss or a fight. Nope. He looked straight through her, like he saw all the ugly parts… and didn’t mind. Hell, maybe he even liked it.

It smells as if it will be bitter. A note rests beside it, and it reads: Wouldn’t want mini versions of you running around the palace. Shame burns across my face. My stomach churns, and my skin prickles as the unwanted memory claws its way back. Without hesitation, I pluck the capsule from its bed of cloth and pop it into my lips, swallowing it dry. The bitter taste coats my tongue, but I force it down. Jade winces. “You should’ve taken it with water, my lady.”

I fucking love that girl! I take the bottle of my whiskey and swig it. I turn up all the volume of the music playing on TV. I am playing instrumental music that helps me think and right now Bitter Sweet Symphony by David Garrett is playing. I am sitting in the middle of the stairway, drowning in my problems.

I swallowed. The reaction was immediate. My body convulsed. A searing heat spread through my chest. My stomach rebelled. I leaned away. I vomited violently onto the rusted floor. Rian watched, his eyes fixed on me. "Again," he commanded. "Draw the core. Draw life." I fought the nausea. I returned to the wound. I placed my lips against his skin. I drew the life from him. I drew the poison from him. I sucked the blood. It tasted less bitter now. I drew until the blood flowing from the cut was light red.

Kaidon pulled back, a faint smirk playing on his lips now, “It’s antiseptic ointment, genius. It’s supposed to be bitter. It means it’s working. Just bear with it, stop acting like a baby.” “A baby?!” I protested, my voice indignant, “You try having this disgusting taste in your mouth! It’s awful!” He just shrugged, already reaching to apply more to my lower lip. The bitterness was overwhelming, a cloying, unpleasant sensation that lingered. An impulsive, slightly deranged thought sparked in my mind, fueled by the lingering shock and the strange mix of emotions swirling within me. I wanted to prove to him just how bad it was. I wanted him to taste it.

The scent is mouthwatering and something deep inside me screams out for whoever belongs to it. Like a shark drawn to blood, I can’t resist the pull the scent has on me. With every step I take it gets more intoxicating, my gums and the scar on my collarbone tingling. I can hardly think straight, getting more and more in predator-mode. Alexis is clawing at me from the inside, screaming for me to turn around. Trashing herself against the wall that now keeps her from taking over, she panics.

“I’m not upset that you are no longer married to Mr. Carter. I’m happy, because that means I don’t have to see him anymore. I don’t do I, Mommy?” “Not unless you want to, baby.” “Anton, what did the doctor say? Do I have a brain bruise?” I look at Anton. He lets out a sigh. “Yes. You needed five stitches in your chin, a fractured jaw from hitting the frozen ground, and you broke your wrist.” “It didn’t hurt until Miss Ruth pulled on it. My wrist wasn’t from the fall, Mommy.”

"We have to go up. But if that lift is corrupted… it's a trap." He took another sip of the detox, its bitter truth a burning path in his throat. This wasn't just a climb anymore. It was a plunge into the unknown, a desperate gamble against a foe that twisted not just flavors, but perception, and now, even machinery itself. The ascent of bitter truth was far from over, and the serpent's sweetness had found a new, insidious way to ensnare them.