“Travis Hunter’s blood froze in his veins at the piercing female scream that echoed through the forest. He was moving just as the sharp scent of blood tinted the crisp mountain air mixed with the rancid smell of the rogue mutants.”
“Rage boils through my veins. My heart screams for blood. My hands tremble with the need to squeeze his throat shut.”
“She smelled him. The blood was rushing through his veins. She could sniff out the heat in his body. His odour saturated her nostrils and filled her lungs.”
“Music to me is the air I breathe it's the blood that pumps through my veins that keeps me alive”
“The air smelled of blood, sweat, and anger.”
“Write about this man who, drop by drop, squeezes the slave's blood out of himself until he wakes one day to find the blood of a real human being--not a slave's--coursing through his veins.”