It Hungers For Blood の小説・ストーリー

With my trembling hands, I grabbed the handle of the door, and it had just opened when Bell's scream froze us. I furrowed my eyebrows and turned back only to see her pale face with widened eyes. She covered her mouth with her hands and panicked. We followed her gaze and stared at the sink. The sight I saw sent chills down my spine. Blood was flowing instead of water from the tap, which had blown us all away. I choked in the air as she showed us the blood across her lips. "I told you, Bell. But still, you didn't listen to me."

It wasn't just anyone's blood I craved, it was a specific kind. A sweet metallic taste at the back of my throat. Something I had already consumed—Sylver’s blood. "All of them Odette! Drink from all three of them!" the whispers cried out, shooting even more darkness and cold through me. I shot to my feet, my vision flashing red as I glared at the looming manor. My shattering teeth burned as my stomach growled with an intense hunger that made the rational part of my brain stop functioning. All that was left was a primal need to feed—a primal need to take the blood of the triplets.

BLOOD AND VOWS --- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO HIS FIRST KILL “A man doesn’t become a monster. He just finds out what was already in him.” He was thirteen the first time someone handed him a gun. It was a summer night in Palermo. The kind of heat that clings to the bones. Alessio Moretti stood in the back of a butcher shop that doubled as a safehouse, blood on the floors, sweat on his neck, the sound of meat hooks swinging faint in the dark. Don Salvatore was there. So was his father. And in the middle of the room, tied to a chair, was a man with a bag over his head and a bruise blooming around his eye.

It was delicious. The day dragged, and I never left her. Hunger clawed at me, but I let it. Let it sharpen my edges, let it make me wild. The blood of others would keep until nightfall. Her fear was enough to sustain me. Every time she froze in her house, sensing me without proof, I shuddered with it, cock hard, fangs aching. Fear was the sweetest vein I had ever drunk.

And she stepped onto the battlefield to face Marcus Blackthorn head on. ************************************ ~TATE'S POV~ ~~~~~~~~************~~~~~~~~ "From depths where light has never been, From shadows thick and caverns grim, I call the hunger, call the pain, To feast upon my foe's refrain. By blood I've spilled and oaths I've sworn, By every soul that's been forsworn, Let darkness coil and serpents bite, Devour strength and steal their might. With shattered bone and raven's cry, I bid their courage wither, die.

Sorry but I need to live. ...... Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood So much blood. ......

My chest was rising and falling, but the pain wasn't stopping. The desire for blood was still growing inside me... I didn't want my life to be like this. My whole body was aching as I supported myself to stand. I didn't care who would have to be a victim... all I wanted was to quench the thirst. I stood by the cliff, staring over to the wide valley, where I saw some men—warriors. Their heartbeats were pulling me in. The smell of their blood was so strong, filling my nose, and I could feel more hunger surge through my chest... it wasn't something I could control.

I maneuvered through the trees, finding the best paths until I reached an open area. Looking down, I noticed her blood staining my shirt, the metallic scent wafting into my nostrils, igniting a primal hunger. It triggered an overwhelming urge to feed on something raw, with blood. My body trembled as the transformation threatened to take over, making it a struggle to maintain control. I knew losing control would mean Venita's death.

I had fought my way back from the edge with teeth and instinct and something deeply unnatural screaming inside my ribs. Blood had been the first thing. Always. The thirst. Not gentle. Not poetic. It tore at me, burned me from the inside out until there was nothing but hunger and the certainty that if I did not feed, I would become something far worse than dead. And the dead… I swallowed. They had swarmed me in those moments between breathing and nothingness. Hands dragging. Voices whispering through my bones. Eyes that watched me with the accusation of things I did not remember doing.