Kiss The Blood Off My Hands Novels & Stories

Where do I start from? But everything had a beginning, didn't they? I used my claws to give his chest nice designs, and blood rushed out. "Have a good time in hell," I whispered in his ear, before giving him an exsanguination of his life. No, not life, rather, of his death. I removed all traces of blood from my lips and hands with the tissue paper, still, the color of blood still remained. I had to wash up entirely. Thank goodness I didn't get into a blood frenzy, if not, Kathrina's family would be gone by now.

She ran straight into Ethan's arms, trembling like a fragile, helpless bird. "Impressive, Mr. West. Truly, you're a once-in-a-lifetime perfect husband," Amber mocked, her every word like a slap across Ethan's face. However, his body instinctively shielded the woman in his arms. I looked into his eyes, my body pressed against the railing. I calmly said, "Ethan West, you want me dead." His brows furrowed even deeper. He denied it, saying he did not want to play childish games with me anymore.

And I saw the people that had done that to them, their smug faces and crooked smirks, their hands stained with the blood of my parents, and the set of tattoos on one of their forearms. I closed my eyes and held my head, needing everything to stop and go away. I needed that gory sight out of my mind. "Hey... are you—" "Don't touch me!" I did not even realize when I snapped at him, creating even more distance between us as I stepped back farther. "Don't come near me. Don't touch me. Don't even look at me." "What—" "Stay away from me." I continued to move away from him. "Far away from me."

he replied, voice low, almost reverent. He kissed her again—this time slower, deeper. Their lips molded, their breaths mingling. The world outside faded. There was only this—this need, this peace, this unspoken forgiveness melting into passion. His hands roamed gently at first, memorizing her anew. Her skin was warm, soft, reacting to every careful graze. She arched into his touch, eyes fluttering shut, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He undressed her slowly, like unwrapping something precious. She did the same, hands trembling slightly but sure.

"I don’t like being cut." I was starting to get pissed off because I couldn’t take her in my pack and I was already losing my patience. "Your-fucking-hand, now!" She extended her hand, but I saw the anger in her eyes. I couldn’t care less. I wanted her in my fucking mind. I sliced her palm and I saw the dark blood pooling in her hand. It was the darkest blood I’d ever seen, but it was the least of my concern. I sliced mine and entwined our hands, mixing our blood together.

And when Ava looked closer, she saw it — blood dripping from his hands. The world tilted. A thousand questions tore through her, but no answers came. Only the terrible, inescapable truth: whatever had happened before she arrived… It had already begun.

I lowered my gaze to my hands. On the ring finger of my left hand was a simple band, a ring that had cost me nearly my life to hold onto. My hands were clean but neither slender nor soft. Chester often complained that my cooking lacked variety and flavor, so I spent almost every evening after work in the kitchen. The constant exposure to grease and dishwashing detergent had ruined the skin on my hands long ago. I raised my head, and tears again welled up in my eyes. I asked, "Ms. Castillo, can I see Chester?"

Silas said softly, stepping into the alcove behind me. "He was right here, Silas!" I screamed, turning around to face him, my hands shaking violently as I held them up to him. "Look! Look at my hands! I had his blood on my—" I froze. I looked down at my palms in the moonlight. They were completely clean. The dark, thick blood that had coated my skin just moments ago was gone. I looked down at the skirt of my green dress. The fabric was pristine. No stains. No tears.

Blood. So much blood. It soaked through my hands, warm and slick, spreading across the stone floor in a dark crimson pool. The metallic scent clawed at my lungs, thick and suffocating. My fingers trembled slightly but not from fear, but from the thrill of control, the raw intensity of holding life and death in my grip.

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.