Kin Coldblood นิยาย & เรื่องราว

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

I just thought it was a fun, quirky, almost Christmas movie-like, coincidence. “Sorry.” We wrap in silence for a while, but it begins to grate on my nerves, so I begin to hum 'Mele Kalikimaka' by Bing Crosby. Then after a moment, I sing it under my breath. “Mele Kalikimaka is the thing to say.. on a bright Hawaiian Christmas day..” “Still allergic to the silence, I see.” Wyatt remarks.

She was bound to be an ice statue, a really frozen one at that. No! I can't die! She puffed out cold breaths and pounded the walls weakly. She dropped to her knees and cuddled herself tightly. Was this really the end for her? Ryan tried to hold his ground as a heavy hail stones started being aimed at them. It was dark and cold where they was, too much cold and he couldn't even see his other teammates or hear anyone. He fell to his knees on the iced ground. What now? He wondered as his eyes slowly closed.

A woman who was killed by someone of unknown origin fell to the ground in a stream of blood and turned the neck with oozing blood towards Akshara. Akshara was panicked to saw the bloody evil live murder and closed her mouth with her hands not to leave any sound which would draw attention to her. She doesn't know what she could do when a corpse looked at her with bloody tears. All she could do is to run… Run… the scene of the nightmare faded. A blasting thunder brought Akshara from the dream world to the real world.

Killian stepped in with a bloody knife dangling casually from his hand, his black shirt soaked and sticking to his chest. The pale skin of his neck and cheek was stained with droplets of blood, a cold smirk on his lips and dead eyes. He tilted his head, looking at Kara. The shadows around him pressed in with domination even in the well-lit room, and all the blood drained from Kara’s face. I may have enjoyed the sight, but—how long had he been standing there? How much had he heard?

“The blood of your kin is a key. Spill it, and I open everything for you.” His skin prickled under his coat. The tendrils wrapped higher, over his ribs, coiling along his arms like a lover’s embrace. The longer they touched him, the more his own will began to bleed away, drip by drip. The spear aimed at Daryl inched forward. Killian’s jaw clenched until it hurt. He pushed with everything — memories of his parents’ last night, of the laughter of the noble who bought their blood like wine, of the years running from hunters who didn’t even know why they hunted him.

I’m outnumbered. “What did you do to him?” I ask trying to keep myself calm. I have never seen Colton this beaten up. His skin is as pale as snow. “My buddies and I just drained him of his blood. No big deal.” Killian says and my blood boils even more. “What do you want?” I question deeply. “Don’t you want to know what his blood did for us?” He says and I stare at him curiously. I already know what he’s going to say. Colton’s blood has the serum and since they drank from him, it made them stronger.

“I am waiting for every second, every minute; why do you stop when there is an opportunity? Just kill him; it's war; what's so stressful? Up to one person to kill one person, to two people to kill two, how many to kill, how many. I'm also curious about what it feels like to be bathed in a sea of blood." His disdain for human life was terrible. Although his rumors have come a long way, they are all about his crimes. But I once had a little hope that somewhere in my heart, there was still love. But now, maybe I was wrong; Kent is cold-blooded, and his heart is also molded from the stone of hell. His pleasure is to see the pain of others, the flesh, and blood of others. Someone like him doesn't

Killian’s POV The cold wasn't just an external temperature—it was a crawling, living thing that wormed beneath my skin like icy leeches sucking the warmth straight out of my bones. It coiled around my ribs, slithered down my spine, and settled like a parasite in my lungs, making each breath feel like inhaling shards of glass. But despite the frost biting at my flesh, it couldn’t compete with the wildfire raging in my veins. My blood boiled with something far worse than pain—something older and more primal.