It Hungers For Blood Novels & Stories

I hated when powerful men acted weak because of a woman who didn’t even know her worth. I grabbed a glass cup from the table beside me and crushed it in my bare hand. It shattered instantly. The sharp pieces cut deep into my palm. Blood began to drip down my fingers onto the floor. I stared at it. The pain meant nothing. The sight of blood calmed me slightly. I lifted my hand and slowly licked the blood from my skin. The hunger rose quickly after that. It crawled through my body like fire. My breathing changed. Slower at first, then deeper. I needed blood. I needed a fresh and warm human blood. I could already imagine the taste.

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.

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.”

I hadn't laid a paw on him. The common room was still. Silent except for the drip of blood and the crackle of the fire in the hearth. The bodies lay where they'd fallen— I turned toward the stairs. Her name cut through the red haze. Through the rage. Through the blood-hunger that still clawed at the inside of my chest, demanding more, demanding all of it. I climbed the stairs. Each step was harder than the last. Not because I was tired—I wasn't remotely tired. I was hungry. Hungry in a way that had nothing to do with food. Hungry in a way that wanted to keep killing until there was nothing left to kill.

A deep, unrelenting hunger that burned hotter than anything he had ever felt. --- The horde pressed forward, their guttural growls harmonizing into a maddening symphony of death. Yet, Bayo could sense more than just their movements. He could feel them—raw, unfiltered emotions crashing into him like tidal waves. He staggered as it intensified, clutching the side of a destroyed vehicle for support. His vision swam with flashes of distorted images: teeth gnashing, clawed hands tearing flesh, and endless, insatiable hunger.

Nibbling and grazing the golden neck. "Then.. Don’t. Now that I can’t, but if I could I would love to die in your arms" . Callum said, losing himself in Stephen’s arms. The moon was at its peak. Full Blue moon like Stephen eyes that had turned red. He placed his lips on the pulsing vein before barring his teeth. Callum felt a sting and then all he could feel was a frenzy, a euphoria. He now knew why Stephen felt excited offering him his blood.

Besides, I think they're too impatient to do things calmly. "What do you know about this wine called 'Blood of the Wise'?" Judging Orion's expression, there's no doubt, he's willing to tell him everything he wants to know. Ah. The scent of victory.