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Phantom hissed again, ran around in a few circles, careened into the wall, wobbled slightly as if drunk, then shot off down the hall and through the door to the basement. “Jesus Christ,” Brad said, looking down at the blood welling from the scratches. He hurried to the kitchen, feeling lightheaded and nauseated. The sight of blood had never much bothered him before, being the connoisseur of horror movies that he was, but seeing his own bodily fluid beading up and running down his wrist made him feel ill. It was too red, too bright, too thick.

I gritted my teeth, not letting go of his weapon using my left arm while grabbing him on the neck using my right. "Auughh!" Blood gushed out from my stomach as he successfully remove it, a sharp warm sensation lingering all throughout my body as I bear the pain.I drew a sharp breath as he quickly move behind me, tremendous pain showered my legs as he slashed both of my Achilles tendons.I kneeled down the ground, vomiting all the blood as I taste something metallic from my own mouth.He quickly retreated, gasping for air as he suffered from all the cracks. "W-what is this?!" He shouted, terror written all over his face as he saw how his body wasn't healing anymore.I can't help but grin, wiping

The smell and the feel of the humans' blood on her skin makes her vomit and she feels dizzy with dread. "Now it's your turn to receive your punishment," Kratos decrees as he approaches her. "N-no!" Bloodstain shakes her head frantically as she crawls across the floor, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible. Kratos just smiles still approaching, cornering his prey. "Don't beg, I won't feel mercy for you" Kratos grabs Bloodstain by the arm and leads her to one of the torture tools, making her knell on the floor. He puts a heavy and bloodied iron collar on her neck.

“Since I started to get Asmodeus’s talents…I can control where I go when I die. I can step into almost anyone’s afterlife if I have a strong enough connection with them.” There’s a courtesy knock on the door and one of Knut’s younger sons enter the room with two glass cups. “Blood,” he says. “Freshly tapped.” “Freshly tapped?” Aldric asks. “We don’t have the equipment to draw blood like you did,” I explain. “So they bleed the donors every morning and collect blood in containers.” “Christ Almighty,” Aldric groans, “and how many donors do you have left?” “After Imogen killed half of them?” the young vampire asks. “Maybe eleven viable donors and ten that need to be rested.”

I bundled them in a corner and drenched them with lighter fluid before dropping a match on them. Next, I got the wipes from my survivor pack and cleaned up as best as I could. I could've showered at the victim's place since there was so much blood this time, but it didn't sit right with me. Turns out, it was a good call because no sooner had I left his place and was scaling the fence out back when I heard a car pull into his driveway. Someone had gotten a very nasty surprise. I threw the bloody wipes onto the blaze and grabbed some more, making sure to get it all off of me before redressing in another black on black outfit. I unfolded the old second-hand sleeping bag and the moth-eaten blank

So I grabbed my teddy bear and walked down the stairs. When I came into the kitchen, I didn't saw my daddy and my mommy standing there, arguing and fighting. I just saw my mommy laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. The red liquid was coming out of her belly and flooded around her. Her eyes were wide open and her brown hair had become red of her blood. I whispered her name and grabbed her hand as I knelt next to her. The tears were falling down my cheeks like a waterfall. Her blood was now on my white pajamas. My hands were painted with her blood as I tried to shake her awake.

By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden. I feel it working. I also feel the cost. It is not pain exactly. It is more like weight. Like every drop of the Moonblood I send into him is something I am drawing from a reserve that is not infinite, and I have already spent so much tonight — in the shift, in the fight, in the thirty seconds of absolute clarity it took to face Lysandra and end what she was. I don't stop. I keep sending it.

It bore the unmistakable mark of the Anti-Lycan Terrorist Group known as the Blood Moon, notorious for their attacks on lycans within werewolf territories. The video was a gruesome montage of violence, their actions narrated by a sinister voice promising more bloodshed and terror. My hands clenched into fists, and I felt a surge of anger and despair. The Blood Moon's message was clear: they had no intention of letting a single lycan live in peace within the Werewolf States.

Stacey When we enter Jaden’s office downstairs, as we open the door, an overwhelming scent of blood, sweat and petrol fills the room. Hunter and Pax stand to greet us. They both look broken. Hunter’s face and chest are riddled with deep claw marks, the skin around them angry and red. His hair is matted with dried blood and his normally tan skin is deathly pale. Pax’s skin is dotted with shards of glass, and his skin is dirty with sweat and petrol. His nose looks broken as a large bruise forms under both his eyes. Both men are wearing only joggers, their bare chests and arms slick with sweat from running here, having shifted back just recently. Their eyebrows shoot up, darting from me to Jade

“My enemy lurks within this Park, the last blood of Kayla. Only if you bring her to me, I may spare you.” “It was said that Kayla's last blood held a great piece of virtue. She requested for her lover's ashes to be given to her as the reward for handing out her lover, Emmett, to the Alpha of their time to slay. They had it all these while, and maybe, along the way, they sold it to the hands of strangers, like the humans.” “Please, master, the people who had your urn know Kayla's last blood. You should go get your answers now for we know nothing.”