Novel & Cerita Strike The Blood Volume 1

" A dead silence fell over the hospital room. The doctor looked at Ms. Ritter, his gaze filled with undisguised fury. "Ms. Ritter, as a nurse, you should know that 400 milliliters is the absolute maximum for a single blood donation. That's the most basic rule. Yet, you drew 500 milliliters from someone with severe anemia. What exactly were you trying to do?" Ms. Ritter burst into frantic sobs and suddenly pointed at Dad.

The violet veins beneath his skin throbbed dangerously, reacting to the spike of adrenaline cutting through his system. "If they force those scanners against my skin, the local frequency will trigger the micro-particulate silver," Rhys growled, his jaw clenching so hard a sharp line formed along his throat. "It’ll look like an acute cardiovascular rupture on their logs. A tragic pre-fight heart attack."

“You brought friends. How thoughtful.” Declan didn’t wait for the pleasantries to run their course. He moved first, closing the distance to the nearest guard in two strides, disarming him with a brutal economy of motion — a strike to the wrist, the gun clattering free, a knee driving up into the man’s ribs before he’d even registered he’d lost his weapon. I was already moving myself, ducking under the second guard’s swing and driving my elbow into his throat, following through with a knee that dropped him to the floor gasping.

Every strike sent a tectonic shockwave through my frame, driving me an inch deeper into the obsidian floor. Heat from the orbital strike surged through the terminal. My right hand—the last patch of pink, mortal skin—flash-calcified. The searing flash burned away my final two percent. Gray fog over my dead right eye solidified into unblinking glass. The sluggish flow inside my veins halted, crystallizing into rigid channels of pure gold static. One hundred percent stone.

The medic closest to me was checking his vitals, calling out numbers to the driver. "Pulse weak, BP falling—" "What does that mean?" I sounded too high, too rapid. "What does that mean?" "He's lost a huge amount of blood. Head trauma. We need to get him into surgery as quickly as possible." In a last-ditch effort to stem the bleeding, I closed Steel's hand in mine, holding it even though it was cold and limp. "You hear that, Steel? You don't get to check out on me like this. Not on my watch. You wake up, you stubborn—"

One hundred milliliters. Two hundred milliliters... Zoe’s body began to feel cold, her head slightly dizzy. She watched her fresh red blood slowly fill the bag, giving a mocking laugh. Hearing her laugh, Dr. Jin frowned and gestured to the nurse. “That’s enough. Stop.” “But...” “That’s enough to wake her up. If we take too much, what if Miss has another episode next time? Where will we get blood?” Cold, utterly pragmatic. In their eyes, she wasn’t even human. She was just a blood bank. A self-replenishing blood bank they could draw from... again and again.

"Your vampire is stronger than you think, little human. A cup of blood will not kill him. It will hurt. It will leave him weak for days. But he will survive." "You do not know that. You do not know what the blood loss will do to him." "I know more about vampire physiology than you do." Ragnar's voice was hard. "I have been fighting your kind for centuries. I have drained vampires dry. I have watched them die. I know exactly how much blood a creature like him can lose before he crosses the line between weakened and dead." Alexander's hand closed around my arm, pulling me back. "Luna. Stop." "Alexander—"

She pulled up data on a portable display. "Your preliminary blood work shows some concerning results," Vasquez continued. "Your red blood cell count is significantly depleted. Your hemoglobin levels are very low. Your platelet count is slightly elevated, which suggests your body is trying to compensate for the blood loss. Your Strain concentration is at 99.98% purity." She looked directly at Melina. "The extraction process has accelerated your Strain expression beyond even our most pessimistic projections," Vasquez said. "Your blood is now lethal at trace exposure levels. Even a single drop of your blood in an open wound could cause system failure in a supernatural being."

Meredith asked again anxiously, "Bastard, how much blood did you draw from them?" "Not...a lot." In fact, for a child, this blood volume was a lot.

Saratan’s P.O.V "I own you, little vessel." His breath was icy against my neck as he leaned in, “Every drop of the blood thrumming through your veins belongs to me… and when you bore me, I’ll drain and stuff you." My pulse thudded erratically and I couldn't help the helpless tears that slid from my eyes, "P-please, don't kill me, I don’t want to be a blood vessel…" I whimpered, feeling my bladder give up on me and wetness flooded my thighs.