Vein Collapsed While Drawing Blood Romane & Geschichten

Every time I needed a transfusion, he drained you for me. "I should've emptied you out back then and saved us the trouble." I smiled. "Too bad for you. It's gonna be pretty hard to get my blood now. Better take care of yourself." Just then, my coworker arrived. I grabbed their arm, ready to go. Vincent's voice rang out behind me, calm but firm. "Sophia, once I've dealt with the Ortegas, I'll come for you."

“No more after that.” The needle burned faintly as the extraction continued. My vision split into double images. The ceiling swayed. My fingers slipped from Ethan’s grasp before I realized I had lost the strength to hold on. At thirty-five minutes, I felt nothing below my chest. My heartbeat slowed until each thump echoed through my ribs like a drum underwater. Theo’s voice sounded like it came through a tunnel. “Kaye, your blood pressure is crashing.” “Just a little more,” I whispered.

His fangs sank deeply into the carotid with a soft, wet pop. Blood surged into his mouth. It was hot, thick, copper-bright and spiked with the faint sweetness of fear-laced lust still trapped under glamour. The stranger convulsed beneath him, a choked cry muffled into cotton as venom flooded his system. His cock jerked untouched, spurting weak pulses across the already-soaked sheets while his hole clenched rhythmically around Owen’s shaft, milking him in helpless peak.

The liquid slowly traveled through the catheter, entering Carla’s bloodstream. Everyone held their breath. Nothing. Five seconds. Nothing. Ten… nothing. Alexei felt his stomach sink, his hands clenching into fists. “Pavel…” “Wait. Give the body time.” Twenty seconds. Thirty. Nothing. Sasha ran his hand through his hair, his amber eyes fixed on Carla’s pale face. Susan remained motionless, her lips moving in a silent prayer. Then Igor leaned over the patient, his eyes widening. “Wait. Look at this.” Everyone moved closer. The small black branch near Carla’s collarbone was shrinking. Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, but shrinking, like ink being erased by an invisible eraser.

Dark purple veins snaked violently beneath the surface of the carotid artery, like malevolent serpents. The blood vessels swelled eerily, pulsating with a sickening rhythm. With each heartbeat, those ghastly patterns writhed towards the chest. Arthur had planted a gene - locked, mutated neurotoxin. Maniacal laughter blared from the loudspeaker, a sadistic declaration of the ultimate wedding “gift” — hopeless despair with no cure. Vivienne flicked her wrist, and the tactical pouch on her outer thigh unzipped with a hiss. A medical - grade titanium steel hemostat, glinting like a predator's eyes, hurtled from her hand.

Under the lamp it glowed sickly yellow, the edges spreading. "Fifty CCs." "Draw it." The tourniquet tightened on my upper arm, biting into flesh, my fingers curling in response. An alcohol swab scrubbed the inside of my elbow, cold stripping heat from the skin, goosebumps crawling up my forearm. His finger pads pressed down, finding the thickest vein. The vessel slid under his fingertip. His fingers were cold, but the pressure on my vein didn't lessen. He looked up. His amber eyes behind those lenses were speaking.

But I have to keep a low profile for now as promised. The nauseousness shoots through me as I lift the patient's arm and the chemical stench of medicine hits my senses. I carefully puncture the big arterie, only enough for a thin line of blood to start running. It takes forever when I can't leave any traces and I have to suck to get the blood out.

"Patient No. 5's blood pressure is crashing. He's showing signs of acute rejection, Dr. Sullivan!" I immediately looked over. "Get one milligram of epinephrine and administer it intravenously now!" I accepted the syringe from the nurse and was on the verge of administering the injection. Harvey suddenly cried out as he stumbled. He slammed hard into my arm and caused the syringe to fly out of my hand and shatter on the floor, causing the fluid to spill across the floor. He then apologized frantically, saying, "I-I'm so sorry, Dr. Sullivan! I-I just lost my footing!"

Panic flashed in his eyes, pure, unfiltered panic. “What the hell… are you okay?” I knelt beside him, reaching out to help, but the moment my fingers brushed his skin, he jerked violently and vomited more blood. I pulled back, but my eyes stayed locked on his. Something was wrong. I looked down at my hand, still resting on his arm, and noticed the skin beneath my fingers. His veins were turning black, dark lines spreading out like cracks in glass. They kept moving, snaking up through his chest, his neck, his face, until they reached his eyes.

“What do you want?” Blair pressed down on her shoulders to prevent her from getting up. “Donate 300ml of blood, or I’ll draw your grandpa’s blood. It’s your choice.” Mable froze. Blair threatened her to come back just so he could draw her blood? He looked at the time and repeated to the nurse, “Draw her blood!” The nurse moved quickly. Before Mable could react, a tourniquet was tied around her arm. The needle punctured her vein, and her dark red blood slowly flowed into a bag.