THE BLOOD MESSAGE
1141 Words
CHAPTER THREE
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THE BLOOD MESSAGE
Elias's POV
It had been a week of avoiding my experiment, and those seven days had been nothing short of a nightmare. Sleepless nights, haunting visions, and an overwhelming sense of unease plagued me every moment. The only excuse I could give my supervisor was that I hadn't been feeling well. But today—today was my last chance. The final deadline he had given me. That meant I had no choice but to face him.
I sat on my bed, staring at the drawing in my hand. It was him.
I had seen him countless times—while I slept, while I ate, while I bathed. Even when I meditated, my mind drifted back to him. I hadn't laid my eyes on him since that day, yet he never truly left me. His presence clung to my thoughts, wrapping around my consciousness like an unshakable shadow.
He was lean, but his body was built for combat. His silver eyes glowed whenever emotions stirred within him—I had witnessed that in my dreams. His deep blue skin bore faint luminescent markings that trailed across his body like constellations, an ethereal beauty that matched his long, white-blond hair. Even with his alien features, there was something undeniably breathtaking about him.
Dr. Malcolm had told me he was an alien. I didn't want to believe it. The aliens I had read about in books weren’t beautiful. They weren’t mesmerizing. They weren’t like him. He was the first being I had ever encountered—human or otherwise—that radiated such raw, untamed beauty. I would have dismissed Malcolm’s words completely if not for the undeniable evidence—his blue skin, the very thing that set him apart from us.
Even now, as I gazed at the sketch in my hand—a picture I had drawn without even realizing it—I felt hypnotized by him. His eyes, his gaze... it was as if he had carved himself into the deepest parts of my mind, leaving an imprint I could never erase.
A sigh escaped my lips as I tore my eyes away from the drawing and glanced at the wall clock. 1:37 AM.
Without thinking, I stood up. My feet carried me forward before my mind could protest. The hallway was silent, the only sound the faint creaks of the wooden floor beneath my steps. I knew where I was going. I had known from the moment I opened my door.
Malcolm had told me he was being held in Experiment Room Four—alone.
The lab doors loomed ahead, appearing massive in the dim light. I hesitated only for a moment before pushing them open. The inside was vast, lined with thick, reinforced glass enclosures. But these weren’t ordinary containment units. These were specialized to hold beings like him. The air buzzed with energy, the soft hum of machines filling the space, a stark contrast to the eerie silence.
And then, there he was.
He was awake. Watching me.
His glass enclosure was stronger than the last one he had been in—much stronger. I could tell just by looking at it. Yet, despite its formidable strength, it felt fragile under his gaze.
Every step I took, his eyes followed. Not just watching—studying, analyzing, waiting for something. It felt like he was challenging me, daring me to make a mistake, to show weakness.
I was here for a reason.
My task was simple: check his vitals. I needed to use the machine to analyze his components, to understand what he was made of. The more I learned about him, the easier it would be to… tame him. And since I had been assigned to him, I had no choice.
No matter how much I wanted to avoid it.
I still didn’t understand why Malcolm insisted that I be the one to handle this project. Not after what had happened between me and the alien. It was obvious—painfully obvious—that he was a threat to me. Being near him made me vulnerable. Just looking at him made me weak. And yet, they still wanted me to do this job.
Was this what it took to become the head of the department? Was this some kind of test?
A loud bang shattered my thoughts.
I jerked, heart hammering in my chest. My eyes darted toward the glass.
It was him.
He had slammed his hand against the barrier, his smirk laced with something unreadable—something dark. It was as if he was taunting me, daring me to do my worst. Yet, at the same time, I couldn't look away.
Something held me in place.
“What? Why are you avoiding eye contact with me?”
His voice.
I sucked in a breath. His mouth had moved. He had spoken.
This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t just in my head. He had actually spoken, and I had heard him.
A slow, creeping heat spread through my body. My breath hitched. Was this the effect of his voice? His presence? The intensity of his gaze?
No. This was something else.
It wasn’t just warmth—it was fire.
Something primal, something deep within me, stirred. A hunger. A desire that was far beyond reason. It burned through my veins, igniting every nerve in my body.
I wanted him.
The thought hit me like a storm, crashing over me with an intensity I had never felt before. The urge to press my body against the glass, to touch him, to claim him—it was overwhelming. Terrifying.
I tried to look away.
I failed.
His eyes flickered. Black irises bled into silver, the same haunting glow I had seen in my dreams. My breath caught. My heartbeat stuttered. Something was happening.
His blue skin paled. Blood dripped from his nostrils.
He staggered, his body collapsing against the glass. The moment his gaze broke from mine, the suffocating desire vanished. My body trembled, my lungs gasping for air as if I had been drowning. Sweat clung to my skin, the aftermath of whatever had just happened leaving me weak and shaken.
A sound tore through the room—a guttural, primal roar.
It came from him. The alien.
Pain. Anger. Rage. Freedom.
The emotions rippled through the sound, vibrating against my very bones.
And then—The alarm blared, piercing through the silence, echoing down the halls.
Trouble.
I turned back to the glass. He was still on his knees, blood dripping onto the floor, his breath uneven. But his fingers—his fingers were moving.
Writing.
The word formed against the glass, smeared in his own blood.
RUN.
My stomach twisted. The word
I'm screamed danger. I took a step back. Then another.
From what? From him? Or from something far worse?
- Writer
