Vampire Veins Novels & Stories

That was the Ashing blood of the vampires. I had only heard about it, but that was the first time I had witnessed it. Blood of vampires when out of their body system turned right away into ash and that was the reason they needed to refill their veins with external blood because their bodies couldn’t prepare blood for them. The entire scene made me nauseous. Every part of my body was aching, but because of the adrenaline pumping in my veins, I was conscious. Whatever little light was in the room was put off by the winds that rushed into the room through the windows.

She then donned a black dress with a dahlia flower print that was ankle-length and covered her ankles. Drake sat at a table in the middle of the room, his noble aristocratic appearance not hard to spot. He was sitting looking out at the sky on the balcony, where the warm rays of the sun were slowly appearing. Miren stared at him with her eyes narrowed and her heart racing as she did so. She recalled that Dylan had once told her that only very advanced vampires can face the sun normally and that normal vampire only requires a small amount of exposure to sunlight potential for one's death.

Khloe's POV: I looked out at the extensive line that held everyone in this city that was both old enough and healthy enough to give their blood. Whether they were willing or not wasn't really their choice. If it was then I doubt anyone would be here. This collection wasn't like the typical blood donation where a doctor gets the blood from your elbow. No, the vampires running the operation got the blood from the person's neck with a larger than usual needle so the process wouldn't take that long. Something about the oxygenated blood that traveled to the brain peeked the vampires liking enough for them to only want to take from that spot.

He acknowledged it was quite amusing, however, it was never fun to see his mate choked. "So that's what they call it these days?" Sofia asked. Mirth dancing in her expressive blue eyes. Alexie snorted. "Ok. I am missing the joke here. Nevermind." She went back to her meal. Eating heartily. In deference to their vampire guests, all the large windows were covered in thick drapes. No, their skin does not roast right away from direct sunlight, it glimmers like diamonds under the glare of light. Nonetheless, too much exposure could lead to their bodies steaming with heat and severe blister-like rashes will appear. In rare cases, it will look like a second-degree burn. They stay out of it as much

Vanessa smirked as she saw those four vampires fight amongst each other. Alexander was monitoring Becca and his surroundings carefully when a two-hundred-year-old vampire named Benedict appeared in front of him. “Ugh, not you,” Alexander groaned as Benedict has always managed to piss him off just with his annoying face while the words that spilled out of his mouth were even more annoying.

The double doors opened wide reveling an immaculate grand entrance. The ceiling was swirls of black and red with a marvelous black chandelier with bright glowing bulbs. There were two sets of spiral staircases on each side but we didn't go up. We walked through the center passing multiple doors and servants hustling about. Abruptly we can to a halt when a creepy vampire stepped onto our path. He was fair skinned with a skinny dark beard that fell from his chin and ended with a point. His eyebrows were also unusually thick and curled up at the ends; overall the man looked evil.

Nicole hesitated, then nodded and slipped out. I stood on shaky legs and walked to the mirror. What I saw made my hands tremble more. My wrist curled into a fist. A black vein. It was thin as a spider's thread and crept up from my collarbone toward my neck. What is that? I touched it, expecting heat, but it was cold. I didn't know what it was. I couldn't understand it. But fear crawled up my spine as I stared. I need to hide this. This is too strange.

Almost gently. * * * Caelan was at his desk. Not working — papers pushed aside. Sitting with his face in his hands, shirt open at the collar, the way a shirt opened when a man had stopped thinking about what he looked like. So I saw them. The veins. Black, fine as thread, spreading in a branching pattern from the centre of his chest — not like bruising, like something drawn with intention. They crossed his sternum, reached toward his ribs, and one branch climbed the left side of his throat and stopped, for now, at his collarbone.

The Obsidian Throne Room was quiet except for the soft crackle of black candles and the occasional drip of wax onto marble. Elias Nightshade lounged in the massive chair carved from volcanic glass and bone, one leg draped lazily over the armrest, a crystal goblet of blood wine balanced on his fingers. The liquid inside swirled slow and dark, spiced with something older than most of his court could remember. To anyone who didn’t know him, he would have looked like a king at ease, beautiful in that deadly way vampires were, midnight hair falling loose around sharp cheekbones, crimson eyes half lidded, lips stained red.

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.