Where All The Veins Meet Book Novels & Stories

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.

And as I looked down at my trembling hands, I saw veins of silver pulsing beneath my skin—bright, alive, and burning. --- To be continued...

The romance was being squeezed out. "The journal" Elara shouted, her bare knees hurt as she fell flat onto the asphalt to pick up the black leather book that was lying between them. The moment her fingers touched the leather, the blank white pages inside the journal did not just move they started bleeding. A lot of midnight-blue fluid came out of the journal mixed with the cold rain water and formed a swirling indigo circle around her ankles. The gold letters on the cover of the journal; THE MASTER LEDGER: VOLUME TWO ​flared with a white-hot, blinding radiation that scorched the skin of her palm, the unique, un-templated human syntax of her blood-infused veins screaming in protest against th

"As it fades, I see the truth - in plain sight, yet hidden all along. We are all children of blood and bone. All instruments of vengeance and virtue. This truth holds me close, rocking me like a child in a mother's arms. It binds me in its love as death swallows me in its grasp." - Tomi Adeyemi, Children of Blood and Bone * * * *

BOUND BY THE VEIN CONTENT WARNING This novel contains material intended for mature audiences only (18+). It includes themes and scenes involving: Graphic violence Blood and feeding Sexual content Obsession and psychological manipulation Power imbalance and coercive dynamics Death and dark supernatural horror elements 🚫Reader discretion is strongly advised. COPYRIGHT/DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

They stayed like that, pressed together in the dim light of the bedroom, his hands firm and steady over her, her fingers curled in his hair, both of them shaking themselves apart and rebuilding at the same time. Outside the door, Heather leaned against the wall with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wet, glaring at anyone who got within six feet like she’d personally rip their throats out for interrupting. Down the hall, Melody whispered to Liam, “Something’s coming,” and Liam whispered back, “Then we’re already in position.” In the clearing by the scar, Ash still knelt in the dirt, head bowed. Waiting. Listening. And somewhere in the deep place beyond the Veil — or maybe under the ground

Ink rivers reversed course again, all flowing toward a single point near the far end of the field. Bookshelves shuddered and dragged themselves into a rough circle around that point, pages tearing free of their bindings to spin inward, a papery storm. The bus—its outline faint in the mist beyond—flickered on one of the headstone faces like a screen, then off again. “All right,” Jax said. “Pretty sure it noticed.” “No kidding,” I muttered. From the center of that whirlwind of books and ink and stone, something rose. At first, it was just… mass.

“They were out too far…for a reason. “Rodin says. Slowly, Rodin lifts his fingertips from the puddle. The blood drips back into the pool. The blood is thick almost like sludge and smells like rotten meat when it's cooked. Rodin flings the blood on the teal grass which cleans the shine on his armor. Rodin stands and he starts to walk to the tent with the flag. Varick looks over the pile. On his side is a satchel, he reaches in this compartment to pull out a book. The book’s title: “Book of The Blight.” Carefully, he sets his wolf helm down on a clean spot among the forest. The plate head sparks with pink electricity, causing the headpiece to slightly hover along with the grassy blade tips. Va

“East.” They moved again. The forest thinned as they approached the ridge. Ash gave way to stone, the ground scarred with black veins that glowed faintly silver. Each pulse matched the rhythm of Kaelen’s mark. Mireya slowed, staring at the pattern. “It’s spreading.” He followed her gaze. The veins reached miles ahead, weaving through the hills like roots beneath skin. “What happens when they reach the river?” she asked. He didn’t want to answer, but he already knew. If the realms were bleeding into each other, water would carry the corruption everywhere.

I hugged the her immediately “You came,” I whispered. “You know I would.” She answered. And in her hands, wrapped carefully was the book. She unwrapped it and my breath caught. My mother didn’t speak, she just simply let the cloth fall away. The air charged more. The pressure could be felt. Kael had a horrified face staring at the book. It was entwined in vines— Blood vines. The raw power from the book pressed against my skin, my lungs, my bones—everywhere.