The Blood Of The Vampire 소설 & 이야기

assistant"> Seeing blood instead of tears flowing from a vampire's eyes left Jane in shock. She had always wondered whether a vampire could ever cry. Ever since learning of their existence, they had always seemed like creatures incapable of shedding tears, as though sadness never manifested the same way it did for humans. Yet somehow, it seemed they could cry after all. Not with ordinary tears though, but with thick crimson blood that slowly streaked down their cheeks. Somehow, the sight looked even more heartbreaking than actual tears, making it difficult for her to look away.

And I knew I could not tell Nikolai. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, forcing the words out despite the way my voice trembled. He laughed. It was low. Dark. It curled around me like smoke and made my skin prickle. “The vampires have a rare trait,” he said slowly, leaning back in his chair. “When they claim a human, they bite into their neck and leave a mark called the Blood Mark. It binds them. Body and mind.” My fingers curled into my lap and I could almost feel his teeth again in my neck, claiming me.

frank’s vague voice commented dully from accross the room. The dullness in his voice was worse than certainty. It had the feel of a man who had handled something unpleasant and had not been surprised by how filthy it was. When men try to make the terrible mundane, they are often the most dangerous. “Her blood is what every vampire needs to walk under the sun.”

Especially not here where all of them want her to see me broken. Where Charles could gloat and f*e proud that he had gotten to me. When we got to the room, they pushed the door open and violently threw me in. I fell to the blood as my body trembled. My neck was still throbbing with a dull ache. I raised my hand to the door and pressed my finger against the wound before pulling it away and staring at the blood that had smeared my hand. My blood. He drank my blood. Charles was a vampire. A vampire.

The pack didn't ring a bell to me at all. ‘Maybe he didn't belong to my timeline.’ I concluded in my head. “Werewolves now suck blood now?” I asked confused, now sure that he didn't belong to my timeline. I also discovered I was nothing but a blood slave, my face winced in disgust. “Well, that would make a lot of sense with all chubby flesh I had. How much blood do I even have?” I said sarcastically, relishing the fact that I was the lowest of the low.

The vision abruptly disappears. Brook-ta-man vomited. The hunter's blood splattered across the floor like a sticky goo. The vampire, full of disgust for what he had drunk, moved his hands creating spell threads, froze for a second. The white-faced's blood flared up like gasoline, the mutilated body caught fire. The vampire set the hunter on fire. Brook-ta-man looks at the burning body of the enemy.

Coming to a door, I eased it open and my anger flared as a bloody scene filled my eyes. Blood. So much fucking blood gushed from the wound on her neck. Who was she? Why did this asshole hurt her? Why was the word, “MINE” echoing in my psyche? Not waiting to get an answer, I pounced. I took the vampire to the floor, slamming the bastard’s head to the floor. A grunt of pain answered the blow but it didn’t faze the asshole. No. this one was damned strong. He pushed me off him and we circled each other.

Melinda ran a finger along the line and named them, steady, like an incantation at the edge of noise: “Dragon blood, the raw power, to bind the brute energy the tear bleeds. Phoenix blood, the rebirth so the seal can mend if it frays. Unicorn blood, its purity to cleanse the corruption. Basilisk blood, A poison to turn anything escaping into ash. Kraken blood, an abyssal strength to anchor us to the depths. Griffin blood, vigilance, watchfulness for the long centuries. Chimera blood, the hybrid coin that traps chaos by uniting it. Werewolf blood, it cycles and changes, to tether time to the seal. Vampire blood, an immortal blood, for endurance.” A deep, ancient red, almost black, that swallo

His white essence merged with the blood and joined the floating dagger. “I, Lord Dracula, grant you my blood, the ability to shapeshift, and the wisdom of ages drawn from long lives, fragmenting my essence so that you may carry the thirst for blood and the desire to make this world singular, immersed in darkness,” said the shadowed vampire. His words drew the attention of the Lycan and the witch, who immediately tried to stop the spell but were repelled by the vampire’s betrayal. His black essence fused with the blood and the dagger, which spun in the air in three distinct hues before plunging straight into the baby, taking his life.

The thick, tangled mess of hair covers parts of his face, making him appear more menacing than he already is. He runs his hand through those tangles, letting me see his glare in full. A small dribble of blood runs down the side of his head. The wound is deep and gruesome. It looks as if it should produce more blood than it is. “You’re bleeding?” I say with a barely audible shaky whisper. “Vampire 101, love, we tend to hold blood in areas that cannot be covered up. The head, neck, and hands remain seen by human eyes; therefore, blood accumulates there to keep one looking alive.” He looks at me with those devilish eyes.