Bloodshot Lyrics Novels & Stories

She was afraid to fall in love. He never lowered the walls of his heart, afraid to face betrayal. Both were busy chasing away the demons of their sleepless nights not knowing when their lives entangled and they crashed into each other, seeking solace from the treacherous world. Valerie Ambrose bumped into Damon Lysander at a downtown club. Eyes met, sparks flew, heat rose, and they ended up having a one-night stand. _ "I don't have cash on me. I forgot my wallet." He slurred, his crystal blue eyes bloodshot red as he stared directly into my eyes, for a moment I thought he was sober, but then he leaned in and whispered in my ear, his breath fanning my neck. "Now are you still interested?" Although the music was blasting through the speakers, but I caught up on his hidden implication. I shook my head in exhaustion "You're drunk Damon. Come I will drop you home." "I don't want to go back there. It hurts Val." He mumbled dryly, but his moist eyes said it all, and I couldn't help but pity him. When I failed to respond he pressed his lips to the side of my neck and inhaled deeply. "Please don't leave me alone." He was barely audible and looked like a mess, a beautiful mess. "I can't bear this anymore." And with that said, he pressed his lips to mine.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

My husband, a military colonel with whom I’d been married for ten years, was barred from entering our son’s funeral wake. Because before our son died, he made three final wishes. The first wish was not to tell his father about his death just yet, as he was afraid the news would upset him. Secondly, to cook his father’s favorite meal and let his father be there for his final birthday. Lastly, if his father were to miss his birthday, then under no circumstances—no matter what—never allow that man to appear before his grave. Even though the man’s eyes were bloodshot and his body was shaking as he cried his heart out in the torrential rain lashing outside the funeral home, I never let the man take a single step toward my son after his death. Three days earlier, after spending a whole night setting fireworks with my childhood friend and her son, Logan Pearce came home with a brand-new schoolbag. That was his idea of making up for missing our son’s birthday. The man frowned, puzzled by the tears in my eyes. “Isn’t it just one birthday? I’ll make it up to him next time, won’t I? Little did he know that our five-year-old son had already died from an asthma attack. The little boy would never live to see the first day of school.

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

The day my daughter, Holly Rivera, got her acceptance letter from Bellmont University, I filed my tenth lawsuit against her homeroom teacher, Natalie Martin. The result was exactly what you would expect. I lost again. Outside the courthouse, a group of parents pointed at me and started yelling. "Ms. Martin got the whole class into top schools, and Holly still made Bellmont. Why are you suing her ten times?" Holly stood there as well, looking at me like she didn't recognize me anymore. "I'm done being your daughter," she said. I didn't answer. By then, I already knew the lawsuits weren't going to change anything. That same night, I threw Holly a celebration dinner and invited her entire class. When the parents came to pick up their kids, they found 40 bodies hanging in the banquet hall. Holly was one of them. The police took me in on the spot. An officer dropped the surveillance footage on the table, each frame capturing me stringing them up. His eyes were bloodshot as he leaned in. "Start talking. Why did you kill 40 people? Even your own daughter?" I leaned back and opened my hands. "Why did I do it? Ask Ms. Martin. She'll explain everything."

On the very day I underwent a vasectomy, Susan bought the designer tuxedo I had been eyeing for months. However, her next words struck me like a bolt of lightning. “Tomorrow is my baby’s sip-and-see. I need you looking your best.” The IV needle snapped right out of the back of my hand. With bloodshot eyes, I begged her to stop playing around. However, her face remained dead serious. “Choosing to be childfree back then was just a compromise because we were struggling. But now, I’m sitting on a multi-million dollar estate. I need an heir to inherit my fortune. My child will be your child, too. From now on, you will be the baby’s godfather.” In that exact moment, my vision blurred. “So, you pushed me to get a vasectomy just to secure the positions of your lover and your illegitimate child?" I spat out. Susan frowned, annoyed. “Myles, watch your mouth. I am giving you the status of my official husband, and I'm giving Owen the child. It’s a fair trade. Staying with me means you get to be a father without any of the pain. If you leave me, who else would ever want a sterilized man like you? Think about it wisely.” The pain hit me all at once as the anesthesia wore off. Yet, I couldn’t help but remember that once upon a time, she had carried a child of ours that she refused to accept.

At the height of my career, I became the youngest law professor in the field and married my childhood sweetheart, Daisy Reid. We were known as the "golden couple of the legal world," and in the eyes of many, we were the perfect loving couple. In the tenth year of our marriage, my mother took my son, Caleb Davis, out, and they were involved in a car accident. The driver had been speeding while intoxicated. My mother only had enough time to shield Caleb in her arms before she died on the spot. To my surprise, my wife, Daisy, appeared and sat next to the murderer, James Benton, as his defense attorney in the courtroom. "Our client was just driving normally when the deceased suddenly rushed out in an attempt to stage an accident, which ultimately led to the accident. The deceased party should bear the main responsibility for the accident." Upon hearing that, I stared at her in disbelief. Soon after, anger surged within me. My eyes bloodshot, I growled, "My mom would never stage an accident! I have a witness!" However, the ten-year-old Caleb, who was to testify as a witness, grabbed James' arm and said, "I testify that Grandma was trying to fake an accident by purposely crashing into Mr. Benton's car. Dad even tried to make me lie. I would never hurt Mr. Benton." The moment those words left his mouth, my heart sank completely.

Three years ago, my fated mate, Rex Hemmond, had personally signed the auction contract, resulting in me getting delivered onto the auction stage in the black market. That night, I was injected with aphrodisiacs, leading to me revealing my most debauched side in front of everyone. That was how I became the most hated harlot in the Moonshade pack. My sister, Daisy Russell, could be seen nestling into Rex's arms. She was smiling as she watched me fall into the abyss. During the years of my exile, I spent countless nights beneath bridges. Most of the time, I was chased around by others who wanted to beat me up. Eventually, I started earning money by slaving away in underground cage fights as a fighter so that I could buy back the estate that my dad had left me with. Three years later, Rex tracks me down with bloodshot eyes. "Come back with me and apologize to Daisy." I respond by punching him in the face. "That'll be 100 dollars per punch. If you're still unsatisfied, you can keep punching me." When Rex takes Daisy's hand at the estate's gateway and claims that it will be hers from now on, I finally fire a text message to an unknown number. "I need you." The moment that wolf steps into the Moonshade pack, Rex questions me with red-rimmed eyes, "Since when did you get together with him?" I just smile in return. "He was the one who saved me on the night you signed the auction contract."

“I, Nikolai Ashwood, the future Lycan King of the Bloodmoon pack, reject you Lilliana Ayers as my mate and future Luna.” He affirmed, his eyes bloodshot with anger as they pierced through me. I could feel the heart wrenching pain from the rejection, especially since he’s an alpha and my body threatened to break. “But if you think for once that I’ll ever let you go, then you’re severely mistaken.” He growled through gritted teeth, his hands wrapped around my neck and depriving me of air. ————————————— Lilliana Ayers, an omega maid of the bloodmoon pack, never imagined that her life would change on her 18th birthday. Little did she know that she was fated to be the mate of the Lycan prince, the soon to be King and the cruelest of all alphas. She wasn’t expecting him to accept her as his mate so the rejection wasn’t shocking to her, what was most shocking was the fact that he refuses to let her go, defying all expectations! Nikolai Ashwood, The future Lycan King of the pack already knew Lilliana was his mate from the day he turned 18 but how was he, the future king, going to accept a mere maid as his mate?! It’s unheard of but something about Lilliana was exciting to Nikolai and he doesn’t want to let her go, at-least not just yet. Staying in the Bloodmoon pack, Lilliana had no other choice than to obey the wishes of Nikolai Ashwood. What happens when the obsessive and cruel Lycan king gives in to the scorching attraction? Will Lilliana accept the man who rejected her back?

Lucas Fenrir was the son of the Alpha of the Silvertail Pack, born as the pack's greatest pride. When his Luna and first love, Nara Boris, chose to leave, he married me in a fit of rage—the most unremarkable Omega in the pack. Everyone said I was just a substitute for Nara. They were waiting to see me abandoned, to see me cry, and to see me beg on my knees. Nonetheless, I always smiled and calmly fulfilled Lucas' every demand. I helped him stabilize the pack's morale, stood up for him in public, and even defended him against the rumors that he had rekindled his past romance with Nara. Until one day, I saw him on the streets during the Moon Goddess Festival. He was holding Nara, kissing her deeply. Meanwhile, I simply turned my head away in silence from behind the crowd and pretended I saw nothing. A few months later, I was diagnosed with wolfsbane poisoning that had spread to my nervous system. My condition was beyond saving. I was admitted to the ICU of the pack's hospital, with only a few days left to live. Lucas came when he heard the news. His eyes were bloodshot as he roared and grabbed my dying body. "Why didn't you tell me? Why are you trying to die alone in secret?" I looked at his unhinged expression, my gaze as gentle as it had always been. There was even a faint mocking smile curling at my lips. "Lucas, I've never loved you. "The one I loved… was actually your twin brother—Derrick."