It Hungers For Blood Novelas e Histórias

Grace's words kept ringing in my head. ‘He doesn't care about you or your silly emotions. He'll fuck you like an animal. He will fuck you bloody.’ I was Dimitri's whore, till the end of days, trapped in this golden cage. A tear ran down my cheek. I wrapped my arms around my middle, trying to quench the panic. The doorknob twisted and Dimitri came in covered in blood. Human blood. A loud gasp wrenched out of my throat before I could stop myself, I drew backwards, My eyes wide and panicky

Chapter 6: Shadows in the Rearview I woke up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets, my heart pounding like I’d just run from a hit gone wrong. The dream lingered, vivid and unwelcome—Ethan’s face, those warm hazel eyes looking up at me, his lips brushing mine in some dimly lit room that smelled like fresh paint and rain. His hands on my skin, soft and unscarred, pulling me closer while I whispered things I’d never say aloud. It was bullshit, all of it. A fantasy my mind cooked up to torture me, because in reality, touching him would be like dragging an angel into hell.

🖱️Victor🖱️ My body was literally on fire, and there was nothing poetic about it. It was not desire dressed up as hunger or some elegant vampire metaphor whispered in old books. This was crude. This was my control cracking from the inside out while I stood perfectly still and pretended I was fine. I wanted blood. Not a feast. Not ceremony. Just a drop. A single damn drop to quiet the way my veins burned like they had been injected with sunlight and poison at the same time.

Seraphina & Declan ✦ 18+ — explicit language, graphic violence, torture ✦ The basement smells like concrete and old water and the particular kind of fear that has been marinating for several hours. I know that smell. I've been in rooms like this before — not many, and not as the one asking questions, but enough to understand the architecture of them. The single hanging bulb. The drain in the floor that doesn't try to hide what it's for. The chair bolted to the concrete, which is a practical detail that tells you something about whoever built this room and how seriously they took their work. Declan built this room. Of course he did. The man in the chair is named Caruso. Nico Caruso, forty-thr

With intestines dangling and blood dripping, she flew into the darkness. A few blocks away from the building a young gorgeous lady is waiting for her bus ride back home. She sat by the bench underneath a semi-parabolic dome listening to Spotify. Engrossed in what she is doing, the lady is unaware of the creature silently flying above her. Smelling the scent of fresh teenage blood, Sarah ejected her long pointed tongue that punctured the synthetic dome and hit her prey on her nape. She then commenced sucking her blood as the victim struggled to set herself free. This time the girl was ready. With a sharp hunting knife in hand, she slashed at the tongue which caused it to be disengaged from he

“Don’t try and sell it to me. If you hunt us, then you wouldn’t want to be like us.” “You aren’t one of them,” I muttered. “You don’t hurt people.” She shrugged, despondent. “I’m still dead. I still have to drink blood to survive.” She wrinkled her nose, and then dropped her head into her hands. “Why is the thought of blood making me hungry?” She hissed. “I don’t want this, Callie.”

I couldn't discern its origin, couldn't fathom why this insatiable thirst persisted even as I fed. With a disdainful sneer, I hurled him onto the couch, his face drained of colour. Frustration welled within me as I paced the room, grappling with the inexplicable emptiness that haunted me. It was a torment, a reminder of the insatiable hunger that defined my existence, a hunger that no amount of blood could satiate.

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

My gums itched and my breaths came out in short pants. I needed to eat. I was so hungry. I was thirsty. I felt weak and overcome with the need to eat. Then, I realized as I crawled towards the still twitching body that I was hungry—starving, and it was the scent of blood drawing me in like a feast. My stomach turned. I tried to pull back and ignore it, but I couldn’t. My body was moving on its own, prowling towards the still twitching creature as its blood pooled beneath it.

“You lived on fear. You made others smaller.” I made them useful, he replied. Useful men last. Useful men survive. You will survive if you stop worrying about softness. A shadow braided across my forearm and tightened; the blade twisted in my grip. I cursed, yanked free, and the hilt slipped, cutting my thumb. Blood welled hot and I tasted it. The sting roared awake, and with it the old hunger—my own and his stitched together. “You think blood makes you a god,” I said, voice raw. “You think drinking other people’s lives proves you right.”