It Hungers For Blood Novels & Stories

Impatience consumed me, followed closely on its heels by frustration. “Give it a moment. Keep focusing.” She murmured as if she could sense my mood turning. I bit back a sigh and kept it on, internally rolling my eyes at the nothingness. All of a sudden, something sharper wafted up to me, it’s tinge distinctively metallic. It smelled incredibly familiar. “Blood,” I murmured, my stomach twisting. “Yes,” she said gently. “That’s the cloth—it’s from a recent hunt. What else?” I took another breath, sorting through the layers of scent. “Mint… leather… something sweet.”

I was sprawled on the floor, unable to stand, my whole muscles crunched together, my whole body ached so much that I could feel being rejected by death. I had fallen deep into small pot, I held myself up, supporting my muscles against the sand. I climbed off the pit, my eyes struggle to make out a relevant vision. Blood gushed from my legs, I tore off my shirt the bandaged my leg. I picked up a stick which I used as a staff to support myself as I moved gently. I fell, stood up and continued on my journey to survival though I wished for death to come take me away, release from this unending series of suffering. I placed my weight on the stick which aided my movement. I came across a part of

The next morning started like any other. By “like any other,” I mean I woke up tangled in my ridiculously overstuffed vampire princess bed, stared at the canopy for a solid five minutes while remembering that I died in my last life, and then had an internal debate about whether I was truly ready to face whatever fresh supernatural nonsense awaited me. Spoiler: I wasn’t. But hunger—or in this case, a craving for the castle’s suspiciously delicious honey bread—won over dread. ---

I wonder. My throat burns with an insatiable thirst as the hunger for blood claws at my throat. It’s a persistent itch in need of satisfaction. But I can't tear myself away from the mysterious wolf. My mind races at a million miles an hour with so many questions. My undead heart pounds against my chest, desperate to escape my body. Focus, Salvatore, I scold myself, in an attempt to gain control of myself. Don’t let curiosity beat you. I struggle to silence my inner turmoil. The more I try to suppress it, the stronger it gets. My thirst for blood demands satisfaction, threatening to overpower me and cloud my judgment. A part of me knows that I won’t win against the bloodlust. Giving in to my

The curse, confirming itself. He had known it was coming. He had walked into it with his eyes open, which perhaps made it worse — he couldn't even claim ignorance as an excuse. He had looked at Seren across the veil and understood with complete clarity what choosing her would cost him, and he had chosen her anyway, and now the divinity in his blood was beginning the slow work of consuming itself. He found he could not bring himself to regret it. That was probably also a symptom. ✦ ✦ ✦

I woke in a cold sweat. Moonlight was streaming in through the window, piercing the darkness. Hunger rose within me; a hunger like I'd never known before. I needed blood and I needed it now. I rose from the bed and stalked toward the door. I could smell blood and it smelled luscious.

A second of silence passed by, "But it wasn't enough..." He trailed off. "Why?" "I couldn't live off on feeding on animals. It just didn't seem to be enough. The hunger only grew from there and it kept on growing until this one day, during a fight, someone was terribly injured and his blood was all over the place. I tried to stop myself but I couldn't-I tasted him, his blood and it strengthened me." The gloom disappeared from his eyes and I took a step back when I found hunger replacing the sadness within them.

Alessandro's Pov: I barged into the house, gripping the stair railing like it was the only thing keeping me tethered to my sanity. The stench of her blood still lingered in the air, invading my senses like a poison. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push it away, trying to regain some semblance of control. My vision flickered red, the hunger clawing at me like an animal, demanding satisfaction. Stumbling into the kitchen, I yanked open the fridge, ripping open a blood bag, and shoved it to my mouth like it was the only thing keeping me from losing myself completely. I leaned back against the counter, savoring the cool relief as it flowed through me.

Every tremor whispered of relief if only I would lean down and drink. My hunger screamed. I could smell the sweetness of her blood even through my own ruin. If I fed, I would heal—the charred husks of my lungs would knit, the blisters along my hands would seal, my marrow would cool. But I knew with a clarity sharpened by centuries that if I put my mouth to her now, I would not stop. I would drink her dry, tear her to ribbons, end the very thing I had burned to ash to protect.

The other end picked up and I said I need a donor now. My office was only a few blocks away and it took all my willpower to make it there and not suck the life out of some random person on the street. When I made it to my office my donor was waiting for me and I didn’t hesitate and took her in my arms and sunk my teeth right into her flesh, trying to stop the hunger that was taking over inside of me. I drank until I felt the body in my arms losing conscience and knew I had to stop or I was going to kill her but the hunger inside of me wasn’t even remotely satisfied. I pulled away and laid the body onto the floor and made another call for another and a cleanup crew.