The House That Dripped Blood Cast Novels & Stories

Heavy, dragging footsteps approached slowly down the dark hallway. Darien stepped into the nursery doorway. He was covered in blood. His white shirt was torn to shreds, his broad chest rising and falling in heavy, ragged gasps. He had a deep cut over his left eye, blood streaming down his face, and his gun was hanging loose in his hand. He had killed them all. But there was no relief on his face. He looked completely broken, his gray eyes wide with pure, frantic terror as he stared across the room at me.

Adrain asked the moment the call dropped. Alex swallowed hard,his voice was barely above a whisper. “The blood,it doesn't belong to the driver”. Adrain frowned “Then who? Alex looked him straight in the eyes. “It belongs to someone who both believe we were done with” Adrain pupil contracted. “Who?

We had to watch our steps getting back to the stairs that descended down. Passing the kitchen, Driana made a pit stop to examine the fridge. It had a huge streak of blood across the front of it, but she didn’t pay it any mind. She dug around until she found a cold coffee drink, taking it like it was the normal course of action, then waved me to continue leading the way.

Is it the result of his master's power? Willow lets go if his negative thoughts seeing his master coming out of the shower. Water is dripping from his light yellow hair. The floor is getting wet from the water drops. But they are making it cleaner than before since this castle is turning into a butcher's den. Only dead bodies of vampires and humans can be found around the house. It's a mystery to Willow, what his master going to gain by doing so.

Daniel whispers, pointing to the floor. I look and my blood runs cold at the signt. The droplets of blood leading to a trail...the one Aurora was talking about. The blood of my wife. Fuck.

My heart seems to have stopped beating as I watch the giant warriors dragging something on the floor. My wide eyes lift to the trail of blood, until eventually, landing on his feet. The warriors part, step away, and drop the body on the floor, letting the blood pool around it. The lifeless grey eyes stare at the ceiling as blood pours out of his wounded throat. The look in those eyes…is one of horror and pain. “ Drew! ” Draven shouts, pushing past his brothers to reach the man on the ground, slaughtered and dumped like a wild animal. His blood taints the floors of the throne room, and continues to pour out of the neck, forming a puddle around his lifeless frame.

"Look what you did to me, Nora." I pulled back, tears streaming down my cheeks, and glanced down. His cock was slicked with blood, my blood—a vibrant, shocking red smeared across his shaft and gathering at the base. More dribbled from where we were joined, dripping onto the white porcelain sink, swirling pink with the condensation. "Oh my god," I breathed. "Daddy, I'm bleeding." "Virgin blood." He sounded wrecked. "Your virgin blood is all over my fucking cock. You bled for me, baby. Only for me."

"There is b—blood down there." "What?" She back away from the hole, pointing at it with a shaky finger. "Blood, Val. There's blood in there." I walked up to the hole to take a look. And sure enough, there was blood on the surrounding floor boards. Dried blood. "I was trying to scrub the floor and the board moved." Veronica explained, her voice still full of fear.

The white face towel she used to wipe out the blood was painted with my blood. I was soaked in blood, too, more than before; the metallic stench hit my senses hard this time. At this point, my thinking went from my present situation to how my Dad would feel if he heard this; he had always worried that these little health issues would escalate. I didn't picture this day coming, that I would bleed out two pants of my blood in a few minutes. My eyes began tearing up. If this is to be my end, I should know better.

My mind, already a storm, flares brighter. Vanda pulls back to look at me, concern etched into his expression, before stepping into the bathroom. I stay rooted, unable to move, the dried blood on my skin itching like a cruel reminder. The sink runs briefly, and Vanda reappears with a damp washcloth. Wrapping an arm around my back, he guides me to the bed. I sit stiffly as he gently cleans the blood from my face. “I need her here,” I croak, my voice hoarse.