Very Blue Veins In Arms Novels & Stories

Why does he have to interfere with everything? As the warmth of the bath seeped through her, Hannah's gaze drifted down to her arm and she paused, caught sight of how pale her skin looked in the soft bathroom light. She raised her hand, turning it slowly as knit brows creased her face when she seemed to see the faint lines of veins beneath the surface, tracing up from her wrist to her elbow like a web. She had always been quite fair-skinned, this was almost. translucent. "What…what is this?" she whispered, tracing her fingers over the skin chilled through by the heat of the water. Is this…normal? She recalled Hadzen's skin, pale like hers, yet this was different, unnatural.

He looks up as I enter, his expression guarded but there’s something else beneath it now. Something unsettled. “You said this was urgent,” he says. “It is.” I don’t move further into the room immediately. I just… look at him. And the moment I do my breath catches. There, clear as daylight. Black veins. They spider out from his chest, branching across his skin beneath his shirt like cracks spreading through glass. They pulse faintly, alive with something dark, something wrong, radiating outward from his heart. For a second, I can’t move because this...

Blaze, gripped by impatience, groaned, "You talk too much. Just do it, Goddammit!" Responding to the exigency, Dexter elongated his fangs with a swift motion, ready to drink from Blaze's neck, but Blaze intervened, "Do you have to feed from my neck? Use my wrist instead." Dexter scoffed, "For someone who is at the brink of death, you are pretty audacious. The internal jugular veins, vital conduits for blood, run discreetly on both sides of the neck. They mirror the path of the carotid arteries, offering a direct route to the heart. If I release the serum into these veins, it would swiftly reach the heart and circulate throughout the body, expediting its effects.

His fingers traced lightly over the skin, not touching it fully, then he shook his head. "I thought I saw it. That you had umm... some really weird mark on the back of my arm." "Mark?" I asked and turned my side to the mirror, trying hard to get a view of my elbow. Desmond pointed to it and I saw lines. Light green lines bent and curved knotted together beneath the thick skin of my elbow, then spreading out up my arm. "They're just veins," I murmured. "I didn't have it before. Maybe it was triggered by the pregnancy. Women go through changes like that."

VIVIENNE pov I stared at the mirror like it owed me money. Naked. Full-frontal and no mercy. The black veins had retreated to thin, ugly spiderwebs under my skin, mostly arms, thighs, ribs, a nasty crown creeping up my throat like some gothic tattoo gone wrong.

It was strange though, I wasn't in any pain, so then why was I crying? Larry's head turned to the side glancing over his shoulder, cursing beneath his breath. For some reason, my eyes settled on his neck as my hands wrapped around his shoulders. Veins Blue veins, teeming with spark and vitality ran from the underside of his chin to where his shirt shielded his shoulder. I gasped, panicking as I blinked my eyes. Willing the sight away. It wasn't real, that wasn't real. What the hell did I just see?!

The gold is more prominent this time. His hand moves from my sleeve toward my neck. I don’t flinch. I know it’s pointless. It does not help to fight this. This is it. He’s going to end it. His hand brushes against my neck, his fingers grazing my skin. Before I go to close my eyes with finality, I see the veins in his arm. It is black. I frown. I'm not in pain, so why is his veins black? What is he feeling? He pulls back as though my skin burned him, his eyes widening. He looks at me with disbelief. His grip loosens and I can see the pain in his face.

Sweat beads on his forehead, but it is the veins—those dark, serpentine lines crawling beneath the surface—that draw all eyes. They coil like a creeping vine, twisting and winding up from the wrists to the elbows, then slithering further towards the neck. Black and swollen, they pulse with an eerie rhythm, as if alive, as if feeding on the very essence of life within him. The darkness spreads like a malevolent plant devouring its host, snaking toward the heart, ready to choke out the final flickers of vitality.

Breaking away from the opening in Nyree's arm, he squatted down, pinched Braint's nose gently and patted his face. "The skin of a young child is really good." Vincent couldn't help sighing with emotion. He rolled up his sleeves and said, "Look at my skin." The man rolled up his sleeves and Beau saw that there were pinholes all over his arm. There were holes left in the blood vessels by all kinds of needles. It was not an exaggeration to call it a sieve-like arm. One could tell that for the past twenty years, this man had never stopped being pricked.

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.