Kiss The Blood Off My Hands Novels & Stories

I said quickly with panic rising into every word. She remained terrifyingly still, her breathing shallow. As I adjusted my grip to cradle her closer, I suddenly felt a strange wetness soaking through my fingers at the base of her head. While holding her head securely with one hand, I slowly removed my other hand from the back of her head to see what it was. The sight that met my eyes completely terrified me. My palm was entirely coated in blood. My breath hitched, a horrifying gasp escaping me as my hands started shaking.

The blood trickling down her body and the sound of her muffled screams was a sight to behold. With sharp and precise movements, I pulled out the device; ripping her nipples and slicing her mammary gland open. Blood spurted everywhere from the destroyed organ, decorating my boots and the beautiful carpet. "It's called a breast slicer!!" I said with a smile. I removed the gag from my spectator and let him utter strings of profanities and curses in Russian. "Do you confess to your crimes Mr. Vladimir?" "Yes I do!! Just call an ambulance!! Fucking stop this madness please!!"

he asked me worriedly. Instead of answering him, I looked at my bloody finger. The cut was quite big so a lot of blood came out. He also looked there. His eyes widened and his eyes began to turn gray and his fangs came out. "K-Knox," I nervously called him. He shook his head and then raised his left hand to the air. Suddenly there was a wind and it disappeared easily. "It's okay now. No vampire can smell your blood here inside anymore," he told me causing my nervousness to subside.

Her Pov: My breath catches as I pull my hand away, bringing it in front of me. My hand is coated in fessh blood as it trails down my hand. I... I stabbed him. My hand trembles as my breathing gets hitched in my throat. I stand there thunderbolt as I tried to process what I just did.

my waist started moving on its own at the rythm set by his hand. His other hand traveled to my chest, uncovering my breast. A second finger found its way inside me as he closed his mouth around my nipple. That was enough to make me climax. I shivered and moaned loud as we slowly come to a stop. He claims my mouth once again as my body calms through the pleasure. “Now you’re relaxed” He says as he breaks the kiss. “W-What?” My breath falters when I try to get it under control. “That’s what this was? To relax me?”

She has one duty to me and that is to serve my crooked nature while I strategise my revenge. Till I make her miserable, like me, I won’t find content. I raise my hand up slightly then lower my gaze to look at it. I rub my thumb gently against my index finger. It’s still stained with her blood. The liquid is drying up on my skin. This is the first time the blood of a human does not repulse me. I dip my other hand into my pocket to take out a neatly folded, white handkerchief. I rub the stain on it. It’s immediately visible on the small piece of cloth while dry remains still lingers on my fingers. I draw the handkerchief to my nose and inhale briefly. The metallic scent of blood fills my nose.

Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it all. “Drink,” she ordered, uncorking the flask with clumsy fingers and pressing it to his cracked lips. “Just a little. Please.” River caught her wrist again—gently, despite the tremor in his own fingers. “Jada… stop. You’ll get caught.” She yanked her wrist free and kept working as she began dabbing at the worst of the blood on his face. “I already told you—I don’t care.” River managed two small swallows before coughing, blood flecking his lips. He leaned his head back against the wall, exhausted. “You have to go,” he whispered. “Before they change the watch.”

"We need to get you to a hospital." "No," I grabbed his arm, a new, icy resolve hardening inside me. "Vincent will find out. Stick to the plan. The death has to be real." "But, Miss, your condition..." “The blood?” I forced myself to sit up, a grim smile touching my lips. “It just makes the story more convincing. We do it now.” With my last ounce of strength, I smeared more blood on the sheets. Then I opened the safe and took out the divorce papers I'd prepared.

I asked, my voice rising in alarm. He didn't answer right away, instead, he extended his hand toward me, the blood still dripping from his palm. "Cut your hand," he said simply. "Rub your blood on mine. It's a blood oath. I need you to prove how desperate you are. How sincere you are." My heart pounded in my chest, and I recoiled instinctively. "I'm not doing that!" I protested, my voice trembling. Blood oaths were serious, sacred. They weren't something to be taken lightly.