Wounded Waters Bleeding Novels & Stories

Blood drips from his wound, each drop splattering onto the floor, marking our fight against the night’s chaos. I lean down, my stomach churning, and gently pry Armando’s hand away from his injury. He winces, a sharp intake of breath escaping him, but he nods, conceding to my urgency. My gaze narrows on the torn stitches—evidence of a battle fought too close. “You’ll be alright,” I whisper, attempting to inject confidence into my trembling voice. “Just a few stitches tore.” But my eyes flick back to the lifeless figure before us, a cascade of dread washing over me.

Sweat drips down my forehead as I press against the cold brick, heart pounding. Footsteps approached, signaling my pursuers drawing near. I held my breath, staying hidden, knowing any mistake could be disastrous. Pressing my hands to my side, I felt something sticky - blood. Not from earlier, but fresh. One of the men had thrown a knife, grazing me in the chaos. The pain demanded attention. I needed water to heal. As a healer, water was essential for recovery. Without it, healing slowed. I looked around for an escape, my fingers twisting my ring nervously.

Her clothes stick to her body like a second skin glued with sweat, reason why she doesn’t notice the alien wetness of scarlet staining her pants or the still flowing blood running down her thighs until she is happily sighing under the water stream. The coloured water rushing down the drain surprise her more than scare her though. She takes time to pat and examine her unpained body to find the source of the running red. Naturally, the blood comes from the injury in her rear bottom, reopened by the forced activity. It doesn’t hurt. She washes the injury with cold water to help stop the bleeding as if it was an everyday activity. Maybe it is. Maybe this will be how my whole life turns out. Wash

In the quiet mountains, everything around the entire pond had lost its color. Tick. A wisp of red blood fell into the pond along the girl's arm. When she took off her red armor, a shocking wound on the girl's back could be seen clearly, and it was bone deep. The flesh was turned outwards. The wound looked shocking. The blood was like a spring, flowing from the wound. Instantly the blood stained half an arm. What was even stranger was that on the wound, a cloud of green and faint mist was curling upwards, which was extremely corrosive. It almost completely dyed the girl's entire smooth and white back into green.

I took my chances and crawled my way into it. Everything was quiet as I held my breath. My teeth were chattering as the water was almost to a freezing point. I could hear their shouting but I could never make out exactly what they said. Maybe I will get out of this! I started to relax a little and let the cold water flow down my back. It burned like fuck but it will help stop the bleeding. As soon as I did it, I knew I fucked up. The water turned red and next thing I knew, a hand reaching in and grabbed a fist full of hair.

I cried out, terrified and in pain. She half shifted, something people generally avoided doing, pinning me down on the ground. “I'll kill you before you hurt my niece!” She snarled quietly at me. I could feel blood begin to trickle down my body as I heard the sound of a weapon being drawn. Instantly I felt a searing, burning pain on my chest right where my heart was. Whatever it was, surely a dagger based on the size, it was laced with wolfsbane. Wolfsbane was one of our biggest weaknesses. Wolfsbane was also something that could hinder healing. I screamed out in intense pain at the searing sensation, tears streaming down my face, blood down my body.

She took his arm and examined the deep gash on his forearm. “We'll bleed out if we don't stop the bleeding. Stealth wraiths have that specialty of making sure the wounds they inflict don't heal at all,” Camper answered and winced when Nana poked around the gash. For a wolf to wince at that, then it truly was terrible.

His expression hadn't cracked once, but the tendons in his neck were taut as wire. Nova was still. Too still. Aeron's voice cut through the tense silence. "Lower her back in." Fin didn't wait. He was already lifting her. Her body was hot now, burning with the effort of surviving what no one should've been able to survive. Her pulse fluttered fast beneath his fingertips. He stepped into the spring, gently lowering her back into the glowing water. A shudder passed through her. Blood came out of the wound. It was black for a few seconds before turning dark red. It spiraled around her side and bloomed beneath her ribs.

Maybe I’ll stop feeling him every time I close my eyes. The water scalds the raw patches and I welcome the burn. Pain means it’s working. Pain means James is dissolving, washing away in red rivers at my feet. Pain means I’m getting clean. I dig harder at the tender skin between my legs, nails scraping until fresh blood blooms and the sting makes my knees buckle. I stay there, crouched under the spray, crying silently while the water hammers the open wounds. It hurts so much I can barely breathe, but I don’t stop.

Bleeding Out Hunter pov The adrenaline that had carried me through the fight began to ebb, and with it came the full realization of just how much blood I was losing. What had started as a manageable wound was now a steady stream of crimson that soaked through my shirt and dripped steadily onto the asphalt beneath my feet. "James," I said, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "I don't think—" My legs gave out without warning, sending me crashing to my knees beside my SUV. The world tilted sideways, colors bleeding together as my vision blurred at the edges. I pressed both hands against my shoulder, trying to stem the flow, but the blood kept coming, warm and thick between my fingers