Spill Blood Chapter 1 Novels & Stories

* Trigger Warning, this book contains violence, dark fantasy, abuse, death, murder, and trauma* Prologue Blood was everywhere, on the ceiling, the floors, the bed. The coppery smell of the warm red liquid filled the air, making my nose wrinkle in disgust. I rubbed my blood-covered hands through my hair. The rage simmered as the adrenaline left my body. It was like I was stuck in a haze. Why was I covered in blood, and who did it belong to?

I exhale loudly and make to snap the book shut but the sharp end prick my finger. With a hiss under my breath, I press my finger tightly as tiny drops of blood trickles down. The blood drops on the page and like a mystery, words begin to form, unraveling themselves. I watch with shock, my heart pounding against my ribcage at the swirling letters that aren't there before. As soon as it starts, the strokes end. I glance warily at my finger which has healed instantly and with my pulse spiking, I read the words; ‘Rare is the blood born beneath the crimson gaze of the moon,

After serving as the food they must take blood tonics and feed on nourishing delicacies to replenish their strength and blood. A blonde maid came over to me and a redhead went towards Cass. They both took a knife and sliced their wrists. The pleasant smell of their blood filled my nostrils and soon took over my nervous system. Some drops of blood splattered on the floor and I could feel the beast from within begging to be unleashed. Adrenaline coursed through my veins and my orbs turned darker at the immense hunger. Black veins reflected underneath my eyes and I sank my elongated fangs into the maid. The nourishing drink filled every part of my body and awoke me in a rejuvenating way. I coul

CHAPTER ONE: MEETING MR DASHIELL My eyes flickered open like the blurry Christmas lights at the far end of a NewYork street. I tried to move but my head felt like it had been nailed to the hard, black tiles, and I could only manage to lift a finger or two. My mouth quivered as I felt liquid surrounding my cold body, I began to wonder whether I had taken a piss on the floor while unconcious. Using the strength I had left, I raised my fingers up to meet my eyes. My vision was blurry but I could still decipher that the liquid on the floor wasn't piss but in fact blood.

BOOK 3: Chapter 11: The Morning After The morning light slips through the sheer curtains, casting a golden sheen across the rumpled bed. The sheets are tangled around her legs, twisted and soaked with the remnants of a night she still can’t believe happened. Her body stirs before her mind fully registers it. A dull ache throbs in her hips, between her thighs, in places she hadn’t felt sore in years—not like this.

Chapter 93 – The Black Veil The black blood seeped from the walls like a wound that refused to heal. It pooled on the floor, spreading outward in unnatural patterns that seemed alive, pulsing faintly as if it were breathing. Each droplet shimmered with an eerie darkness, reflecting not light but shadow—a void within a void. The air grew heavier, pressing down on them like a storm cloud refusing to break. Whispers began to echo through the chamber, fragmented sentences that slithered into their minds uninvited.

She wiped more blood on the cover, and just as she predicted, it broke free of whatever invisible chains that had been holding it closed, and opened for her. “Oh my gosh, it opened!” Juliet practically screamed as she reentered the room. Syanna wiped her eyes with the back of her shaky palms as she stared at the book. She had spent days—hours trying to open this damn book. And all it took was a drop of her blood. Why didn’t they think of that before! It was above her. Yet, just as she was about to reach for a page, her eyes started to flutter, her limbs went weak, and the entire world started spinning.

Blood starting flow from the noise, nearly fainted from loosing many white liquid. If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.

I let out an exasperated groan. "Why bother hiding all of this..." I muttered. "...when there's nothing here?" As I snapped the book shut, the edge of a page sliced across the tip of my finger. "Ow." I looked down just in time to see a bead of crimson welling from the tiny cut. Before I could wipe it away, the droplet fell onto the open page. My breath caught. The blood didn't soak into the paper. It spread. Like a spider's web. I watched, transfixed, as the crimson veins crept across the parchment before falling still.

I had no idea how I’d gotten there. A sharp ringing filled my ears, muffled screams echoing from afar. When I tried to move my hand, every muscle protested. Something was terribly wrong. My survival instinct condensed into one pounding thought: Get up. I tried to roll over and sit up, but the asphalt was slick. My hand slipped—and that’s when I saw the blood. My blood-red nails blended into the crimson pool spreading beneath me. Instinctively, I patted myself down, but found no wounds. Then something dripped from my hair. I touched my ear, and my hand came away sticky with fresh blood.