In Cold Blood Novels & Stories

Who did nothing but believe I was confused My legs proposing to motion But he held me tight This time, I didn’t fight He didn’t need to speak I understood his plight In that cold dark night He still wouldn’t let me be I sat beside him Amidst the hubbub As he gasped for breath He touched my face Searching with the fingers He got to my neck And took me unawares Strangling with all his strength I was terrified Gasping for breath And trying to wrestle him I bit his hand very hard But he wouldn’t let me be My breath was feint My strength was fading My hands searched the ground I found a sharp object Which I thrusted towards his heart Puncturing his movement He fell slowly Releasing his grip from

The pain in my chest lessens and I decide to follow that smell. When I get to where the smell is thicker, I also smell blood.. Blood? What happened here? As I get closer, I see a figure lying there all bloody and for some reason it pains me to see her this way. I get closer and Shadows voice keeps chanting these words : "MATE!MATE!MATE!MATE!MATE!" ____________________________________ Hey

The hollow floor was slick with blood. Wolves lay broken in the moss, their howls stilled. The torches the witches had carried sputtered in the damp, smoke curling toward the cracked ceiling. Selene stood at the center, chest heaving, sweat streaking her temple, her hands glowing faintly gold and silver.

With Bobby cornered against the cinder block dormitory walls, Cybill leaped across the bed, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. Bobby tried to cry out for help, but was too weak from the blood loss. The cat and mouse game had whipped Cybill into a frenzy that she was unable to come down from. She devoured Bobby, tearing him limb from limb until she extracted every last drop of blood from his corpse. When she was done, the only thing that remained of her date were tiny shriveled shreds of a life that was once known as Bobby Welburg. Cybill gathered up the pieces, taking them to the dump to be unceremoniously disposed of. Her cold heart felt no remorse, for her mission now was singular. Blood

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

But I just could not help it any longer, being face to face with a wolf had everything flooding into my brain, and I wanted to scream my lungs out. Blood. It was blood that I saw. My parents' blood, spilled on the wooden floor around their heads. I saw their lifeless eyes and still bodies, and wounded faces. I saw my eleven year old self crying and screaming for them to wake up and look at me again, to call me their baby again. But that did not happen, it never happened. And I saw the people that had done that to them, their smug faces and crooked smirks, their hands stained with the blood of my parents, and the set of tattoos on one of their forearms.

the toilet stalls were empty, each and every single one of them. and there it was, the pool of blood on the tiled floor. it was this sight that made his entire body go cold. And no, Shane wasn't afraid of blood, in fact, he had handled a lot of Bloody cases in his lifetime, when you've taken as many lives as he had, being drenched in blood wouldn't be such a big deal. but the thought that the blood could belong to someone he was supposed to protect, someone who was innocent and didn't belong in the Mad Pact, it made his heart clench in regret and immense guilt. Damnit!! Damnit! why had he left her alone? why did he think she was going to be fine on her own? even for a single second, there wa

The figures appeared so much that they completely buried me inside. The dark scene gradually turned red; blood flowed everywhere, corpses piled up into small mountains, and screams resounded in every corner of the dark space. I'm like a killing machine, cold and ruthless. The small knife in my hand became the most potent weapon. As soon as I waved my hand at someone, that person's throat was immediately cut, and they died quickly, without an extra movement.

"When I touched that juror, I didn't just feel his blood. I felt a surface. Like a thin sheet of ice over a void. He wasn't impersonating Councilor Kael; he was wearing him." "We’ve checked the remaining Council members, Sofia. We’ve had them bleed into bowls of salt water just to satisfy the mob’s superstitions. They’re all real. They all bleed red or indigo, depending on their tier," Jax countered, finally slamming a report down. "The 'Cold-Bloods' are broken. The sabotage at the core was their last stand. We are chasing ghosts in the snow."

The steel door hit the floor with a violent hiss, melting into a puddle of golden liquid that glowed, dim and angry, on the concrete. Maya didn’t move. She just stood there, frozen. Silver blood ran down her hand. She pressed it hard to her chest, trying to stop the bleeding, but it just kept coming. The people from the Chorus stayed on their knees—hundreds of them, packed into the dark parking garage. Their golden eyes caught the strange light off the molten metal, making the whole place feel unreal.