Read Blood On The Tracks Novels & Stories

He was changed after betrayal. "A-aron pl-please." She pleaded when his canines moved towards her neck and in a swift his canines inserted inside her skin. She screamed at the pain but he was busy draining her blood. She felt dizziness in her mind as she was already very weak and she had lost her precious blood too. After pulling out his canines from her skin mercilessly he moved towards the area under her ear and inserted his canines. Alaina couldn't scream at that as she had lacked of energy. But she was continuously trying to push him away but to no avail. He after licking the spot to clean the blood get up from her.

I whispered. Kael knelt beside me. "What do you mean?" I closed my eyes, reaching for the bond. For the strange new awareness that had been growing since my power awakened. And there faint but real, I felt it. Blood. My blood, it’s being used. "The packhouse," I breathed. "All those years. All those floors I scrubbed while I was bleeding. They have my blood. They are using it to find me." Ryker's face went pale. "Blood tracking. If they have enough of your DNA—"

“They’re getting ready to take the body to the morgue for the M.E. We’ll need Doc to sign off on the cause of death, but I reckon this is your show now.” They turned away to talk over some of the details with the paperwork. I took a few steps closer to the body. The blood was starting to congeal and made an unbroken red-black circle around the pile of flesh, like a bug squashed on glass. “Do you see what I’m looking at, Mills?” I asked. She came closer and stared at the same spot for a minute, then she got it. “Jesus,” she gasped. “There’s no tracks.”

Marcus and three of our men moved ahead, scanning the area for movement. “Clear,” Marcus signaled. I approached the truck, my gun drawn. The back doors were wide open, the cargo space empty. Blood smeared the inside walls. Damon fought back. Good. Marcus gestured toward the ground. “Tire tracks. Looks like they transferred the cargo to another vehicle.” I crouched, running my fingers over a small pool of blood. Still fresh. “They can’t be far,” I muttered. Then a sharp whistle rang through the air. Sniper.

I slid the needle in. "Fuck!" She slumped forward. Her forehead hit my shoulder. She smelled like wet concrete and ozone. Snot ran down her lip. She didn't wipe it. "I’ve got it." I gripped the small, metallic cylinder with the sewing tweezers. I pulled. A spurt of dark red hit my shirt. The tracker came free, a tiny, blinking eye of glass and silver. I dropped it into the half-empty vodka bottle. "Is it... gone?" She stayed slumped against me. Her skin felt like ice.

“Remind me never to flee from you.” “You wouldn’t get far.” “I’m flattered.” “You shouldn’t be.” We followed the tracks uphill into denser growth. Every few minutes Mara muttered something under her breath — calculations, angles, tiny curses. She tracked like she fought: silently and with absolute focus. At a bend in the path, she stopped abruptly. “Blood,” she said. A thin smear along the bark of a low-hanging branch. Fresh. Dren was wounded. I exhaled. “He didn’t meet bandits, then. Remnant.”

one called. “Nope,” Elky corrected. The trail ran twenty paces, then took a magician’s bow and disappeared like it had an invisibility cloak on. Nothing but damp grass, storm wind, and rainy heaviness in the air—mocking us with their tart little perfume, as if crime scenes weren’t bad enough without storm trying to freshen the place up. I walked to the break in the grass, looked down at where the blood trail stopped. “Neat trick,” I said. “First rule of survival manual —bleed responsibly.”

Something was definitely amiss. Blood!.

The tracks were unlike anything she’d seen long, narrow, and clawed, with a strange double print, like something walking on two legs but with the drag of something else behind it. Ragnar crouched beside them, brushing his fingers lightly over the impressions. “Scavenger-beasts. They use them to track scents over miles. Once one of these has your scent, they never stop following.” “How do you kill them?” she asked. “You don’t,” he said flatly. “You outrun them, or you kill the handler before it finds you.” She looked down at the prints, her mind already turning over the possibilities. The Blood Oath had marked her. They’d sent trackers into her territory. This wasn’t just intimidation. This w