Bloodlust Quotes

“I felt lethal, on the verge of frenzy. My nightly bloodlust overflowed into my days and I had to leave the city. My mask of sanity was a victim of impending slippage. This was the bone season for me and I needed a vacation.”
― Bret Easton Ellis, American Psycho

“Bloodlust – the disease that makes us the monsters we are known to be; it is what wipes away the last of our humanity.”
― Daniele Lanzarotta, Bloodlust

“Other folk thought the Rage was simple bloodlust, a berserk savagery that neither knew nor cared what its target was, and so it was when it struck without warning. But when a hradani gave himself to it knowingly, it was as cold as it was hot, as rational as it was lethal. To embrace the Rage was to embrace a splendor, a glory, a denial of all restraint but not of reason. It was pure, elemental purpose, unencumbered by compassion or horror or pity, yet it was far more than mere frenzy.”
― David Weber, Oath of Swords

“Their quarry had been cornered in his defenses and their bloodlust was such that they were likely to pay top Julep to watch him escape, so that he might be brutalized and killed before their very eyes, as this was much more gratifying to them than simply watching justice be enacted. They, too, understood that societal constructs for justice were moderate gratification, at best, as they were empty and subject to contradictions and compromises steeped in moral relativism and an unconditional dependence upon overblown semantics that made the law a mockery of itself. As for the ideologies that these hollow systems of jurisprudence sought to define and uphold: these could easily be subjugated through a meticulous analysis of the trivial components of one statute or another. The rule of law had failed them. What the people wanted, in its stead, was rather simple: moral absolutes. Good versus evil. And evil was not to be simply prevailed over. Evil was to be dominated and effectively eliminated, because as long as it was able to while away the time somewhere—in some sweaty prison cell, far away, staring out the barred window with a wry smile, as it plotted its next offensive on the Common Good, a sense of wholeness could not be achieved.”
― Ashim Shanker, Don't Forget to Breathe

“With a savage grin, he let out an inhuman roar of bloodlust and threw himself into an unholy orgy of blood, fangs, claws, and death.”
― Alan Kinross, Longinus the Vampire

“I hear myself laughing, screeching, cackling. The world is red hot and pulsing. On fire [...] I stroll down the corridor and the flickering fluorescents celebrate my passing, humming in praise. I spin, bow and hum along. Bloody footprints trail; bloody fingers smear the walls.”
― Eliza Crewe, Cracked

“His fingers wrapped around the smooth metal handle, and he eased the knife from its sweat-patinaed leather sheath and weaved the blade skillfully through the air. While it didn't have the impression of a Fae-forged blade, he did feel something alive within the mortal steel as if the old blade had drunk deeply of blood and continued to thirst.”
― Jacqueline Patricks, Fairytale Apocalypse

“The remaining half of my gin stands before me, and yet, no amount of drink can quench this thirst.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Blood Sipper

“With his mad eyes that cannot seem to look at everything they want to all at once, with the dagger poised in his palm- like sharp teeth or black eyes, he is transforming into something both terrifying and exciting, mysterious and sexy. I reach forward on the sand towards them as though to touch him, my magical boy.”
― Annie Fisher, The Greater Picture

“Perhaps I am overly sensitive to his actions, after all, he is a man before he is a monster, yet I cannot help feeling perturbed by the ivory points of his fangs which are on the verge of peaking past his fleshy lips.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Blood Sipper

“The smallest lapse in emotion leaves me spinning, overcome with bloodlust.”
― Ilse V. Rensburg, Blood Sipper

“He’s got a bad case of something I call ethnic PMS. I think it sounds nicer than ‘bloodlust.”
― Andrei Codrescu, Wakefield

“I like a little bloodlust in a man.” ”
― Cassandra Gannon, Wicked Ugly Bad

“With no other choice, Tory approached Ash slowly. Warily. Could he even tell if it was her? By the way he was acting, she didn't think so. "Baby?"

He looked up at her with blood red eyes that held no semblance of understanding. They were feral and cold. The eyes of a predator.

With a speed she couldn't even see with her naked eye, Ash was off the floor. He grabbed her by the throat, threw her down on the ground and sank his fangs deep into her neck.

Ash's head buzzed and his shoulder ached as he finally slaked some of the hunger that had been tearing at him for days. The blood was so good. So warm and satisfying. He licked and sucked, drinking it in until he was normal again.

But as he returned to himself, his anger mounted that she'd let him go so long without nourishment. Even though he hadn't been able to speak, he remembered her watching him through the door.

You'll eat when you please me..." She knew what those words did to him and he was tired of her abuse.

"Artemis, you..." His words trailed off as he pulled away from her throat and realized it wasn't Artemis he was holding.

It was Tory and she was extremely pale from the blood loss.

Horror filled him. Her neck was savagely torn from his teeth, her brown eyes half-hooded as she struggled to breathe. No! His soul screamed out. How could he have hurt her?

How could he be so far gone that he hadn't even realized it was Tory he tasted?

Because Artemis had kept him without food for too long. And then she'd thrown a human in with him, knowing a human couldn't survive his feeding.

"Oh gods," he breathed, choking. "Stay with me, baby. I'll get you help."

She coughed as she reached up to touch his lips that were covered in her blood from his feeding. He saw the fear in her eyes and the pain that he'd caused her. The guilt was more than he could bear.

"Soteria?" he whispered her name like a prayer. "Akribos?"

She expelled one last breath before her eyes glazed over and her hand fell limply to the ground where it landed palm up.

Unimaginable grief tore through him as he realized he'd just killed her. Throwing his head back, Ash bellowed from the weight of guilt and pain that assaulted him.

He would never have hurt her. Never!”
― Sherrilyn Kenyon, Acheron

“Violence is a self-perpetuating rabbit hole that exaggerates problems and rarely solves them. It is a reaction to a situation and not a thought process. You and your supposed enemy may wash in each other's blood, but once the bloodlust passes, all that remains is a determination to prevent the next generation from inheriting the sins of their fathers. Then the search for peace finally begins.”
― Stewart Stafford