Hots Icy Veins Novels & Stories

My skin, luminous and as pale as the moon. His fingers skim my collarbone, leaving a flutter of sparks as he moves my hair to hang down my back. I see it. two black puncture scars with beautiful and intricate black vines, with flowers and what looks like ivy leaves. It trails from the punctures down my side and over my new and improved curves. It weaves around my leg like a snake and stops on my foot.

However, as Chad relaxed, his skin began to crack, and his veins swelled with excess blood. The veins bulged like worms, and Chad endured the excruciating pain brought by that condition! The Mountain Fists that Chad had just used surpassed his physical body's limits. His heart pounded wildly, and blood rushed to his limbs, causing his vision to darken intermittently. Luckily, the effect of the rebirth elixir Jasmine had given him earlier prevented his veins from bursting. Clap! Clap! Someone was clapping, the sound oddly abrupt in the silence of Temple Road.

Sweat beads on his forehead, but it is the veins—those dark, serpentine lines crawling beneath the surface—that draw all eyes. They coil like a creeping vine, twisting and winding up from the wrists to the elbows, then slithering further towards the neck. Black and swollen, they pulse with an eerie rhythm, as if alive, as if feeding on the very essence of life within him. The darkness spreads like a malevolent plant devouring its host, snaking toward the heart, ready to choke out the final flickers of vitality.

After Riven was done explaining, he stood up. "Take me to the body." He ordered. The night air was super cold and still but for the vampires, it meant nothing. They walked to the car in silence. Riven opened the boot. The body had changed since they left Voss City in it. The degradation had started. There was dark blood and bruising. The skin had gone to a grey-green that had nothing to do with natural composition. It was like a kind of color that only came from the inside out. Ice had formed at the edges of the wounds in patterns that didn't accredite its existence to temperature alone.

POV: Elena The blue vapor didn't just smell like ozone; it felt like needles of dry ice being driven into my sinuses. As the mist coiled around the Grounding Stone, the deep, rhythmic thudding of the earth’s heart began to falter, replaced by a high-pitched, metallic whine that made my teeth ache. The red veins in my arms pulsed frantically, the energy I had pulled from the soil now backing up in my system like a river hitting a dam.

She tried really hard to contain her feelings and stay still, "You know, I thought vampires burned in the sun..." "We do sometimes, with long exposure," Ivan murmured, but he sounded distracted as he continued touching Shay's shoulders, nearing her neck, then following the valley of her pushed-up breasts. He was still testing her and she was still focused on not moving at all, "We don’t burn like in the movies, though. It’s more like... blisters. Very painful. We have sensitive skin." "Oh," Shay took in the information with a nod, "And what about—" "Enough with the boring questions now," Ivan snapped, making Shay shut her mouth, "You can only ask fun questions. Turn around, I want to see if

“Yours will.” He lifts my wrist to his mouth. Kisses the vein. I feel his cold lips trace the blue line from my wrist toward my elbow, his tongue tasting my pulse at various points, choosing. He settles on the spot where my pulse is strongest – the inside of my wrist where the skin is thin and the vein is close. He bites. The venom enters my bloodstream at the wrist and I track its journey – up my forearm, through my bicep, across my shoulder, into my chest. One second. Two. It reaches my heart.

Dark purple veins snaked violently beneath the surface of the carotid artery, like malevolent serpents. The blood vessels swelled eerily, pulsating with a sickening rhythm. With each heartbeat, those ghastly patterns writhed towards the chest. Arthur had planted a gene - locked, mutated neurotoxin. Maniacal laughter blared from the loudspeaker, a sadistic declaration of the ultimate wedding “gift” — hopeless despair with no cure. Vivienne flicked her wrist, and the tactical pouch on her outer thigh unzipped with a hiss. A medical - grade titanium steel hemostat, glinting like a predator's eyes, hurtled from her hand.

I crashed backward into the lockers with a deafening bang, pain shooting through my spine as the metal dug in. The crowd erupted, phones started flying up, people shouting and recording. Natalie stormed in and raised her arm, clearly wanting to slap me back and I'm ready for that. "An eye for an eye, a slap for a slap." But when her hand was about to land on me, another hand caught her wrist. "Hands off, Blondie!" Asher's deep voice boomed through the chaos like a command on the ice. The star winger of the hockey team pushed through the crowd with powerful strides, his broad shoulders cutting through the sea of phones and staring faces.

Sweat, expensive soap, and something that smells like a storm over the ocean. Alan Voss. I look at the spot where he stood—naked, powerful, and utterly terrifying. My face still feels like it’s on fire. I shouldn’t have looked. I should have kept my eyes on the floor like a good little ghost. But the tattoos on his arms… They were really detailed. Like armor made of ink. “You’re safe with me,” he had said. I sigh and push the mop across the rubber matting. People like Alan Voss don’t protect people like me.