It Hungers For Blood Novels & Stories

I ferociously shoved him and continued on drinking my mother's blood to the last drop. “What has befall of you, my son...? What has the devil bestowed on you? No, you are no longer my son! You are a monster!” My father cried as he tried to straighten his bruised body from the hard fall. I stared at him and then at my lifeless mother in horror as my thirst was finally quenched. I moved away only to be terrified yet again to see my horrendous appearance in the mirror that was hanging on the wall, facing me. My skin was as pale as the ghost, my eyes were bloodshot, and I could see fangs extended from my upper lip with fresh blood dripping on my mouth. ====####====

She hangs up, and my blood runs cold. ##########

Dominic asked him. Hudson groaned and turned away from them. Ethan chuckled as they all cracked smiles and Cooper shoved his hands in his pockets. “First thoughts were that Gage killed the motherfucker,” Cooper said. “Exactly. I don’t need my brothers at war with each other. Gage didn’t do it and neither did I, but someone carved him up like a fucking Thanksgiving turkey,” Dominic said. “I bet his blood spurted everywhere,” Ethan said as he looked at Hudson. Dominic chuckled as Hudson groaned. “A river of fucking blood and guts. I’ve heard that intestines are slippery as fuck.”

he says, and then I see it. The knife. My blood runs cold. “No,” I whisper. He lunges forward. Pain explodes through my arm. A sharp, tearing pain that steals the air from my lungs. I scream. It burns. It burns so badly I can barely think. Warmth spreads down my skin. Blood. My blood. I try to pull away, but my strength is fading too fast. The room spins. The man tightens his grip again, dragging me toward the door. “Move,” he orders.

We've been wandering ever since… "Bro, please save us! Dad's not going to make it, and I'm starving, too! You're rich now. Just a little from you would be enough for us to live!" As he cried, he reached out with his filthy hands, trying to grab my pant leg. My dad staggered over as well, still clutching that dirty rag. "Chester… I was wrong… I know it now… I'm your father. Please, just give me something to eat…"

The sight of my father mauled by my own hands, covered in blood I had spilled. For years, I have avoided battles. Avoided hunting. Anything that could spill blood and let my men take care of shit. For even the scent of blood awakens the beast inside of me. And still, every second, every minute, the hunger gnawed at me. It was never satisfied. Blood. Always. Wanting. Blood. “Maybe—” Zechariah began, but his words were cut short as a thunderous crash shook the chamber. The heavy doors swung open violently, slamming angrily against the stone walls.

Her nails dug into her palms, aching like they wanted to sharpen, and she clenched her fists, scared of what they might become. Liam’s howl still haunted her, a forbidden ache that tore at her heart. Kane’s words—I’d burn it all down for you—lingered like a fire she couldn’t extinguish. And Mira’s texts (I need you), piling up on her phone, felt like a warm tether and a trap all at once. The prophecy’s words—Born of man and moon—churned in her mind, making her feel like a stranger in her own skin. She hadn’t slept, her dreams a tangle of silver eyes, crimson gazes, and Mira’s gold-flecked stare.

It wasn't a curse delivered by an enemy; it was a biological, cellular rot born of an unquenchable, starving madness. The chronic disease flooded the original bloodlines, short-circuiting their higher intellects, burning away their speech, their strategies, and their beautiful memories until the grand creators were reduced to the mindless, zombie-like husks that the modern world now called the Blood-born. They became slaves to a baseline, ravenous instinct to feed on anything that carried a heartbeat, buried alive beneath a mountain of starving rot.