Novel & Cerita A Dance Of Steel And Blood

"Well, then I'll be the one to go first..." "No, I'll go first" "I'm quite good, I'll go first" A smirk lingered at the corner of her lips as she watched the other gamblers stopped their games to fight for a night with her. It's really good to be beautiful and sexy. In less than a minute, everyone turned against each other and fought, throwing stuffs around the bar. The bar man hid to seek shelter from the objects hurled in his direction, Anastasia seems unwavering even as cups broke before her feet, one hit her in the temple.

THIS CONCLUDES BOOK ONE: DANCING WITH FATE. BOOK TWO WILL BE A STORY WITH THE POINT OF VIEW OF RYAN. BOOK TWO: FIGHTING FATE

“I almost have the eyes of a crimson. I am almost a crimson. I can sit on the blazing throne without being burnt.” Rhaella smirked, emphasizing his words. “Almost. You said that part correctly. You’re almost a crimson. But you can never be one of us. No matter the horrid experiments you hold, they’ll always be one thing Duncan…” She leaned closer to him, now standing only a few feet from him. “I… will… beat… you!” Duncan cracked his fingers, stretching a bit. “Then, bring it on.” As if summoned by the words, a howl ripped through the eastern flank — long, sharp, commanding. The MoonBlood warriors changed the tides of the war. Their banners lowered. Their claws and fangs protruded — not again

Plans formed. A knock echoed at the door. Dante froze. Gabrielle reached for a blade. The door creaked open. Elira stood there, blood on her hands, eyes wide. "He knows," she whispered. "He’s coming." A shadow moved behind her. A blade flashed. Dante lunged. The candle went out.

Wren The world shattered in a deafening roar of iron chains and exploding crystal. The central chandelier crashed onto the mahogany table between us, splitting the wood down the middle. Hot wax splashed across the white linen as the candles caught the spilled wine. Smoke surged into the air. Lautaro reacted instantly. He threw himself backward, his boots skidding across the marble as his broadsword cleared its sheath. “Guards!” he bellowed. I didn’t wait.

​Splinters flew off the heavy oak table as rifle rounds chewed through the wood. The loud roar of automatic gunfire bounced off the high ceiling, filling the hall with the sharp smell of burned powder and hot metal. ​Kaelen pressed his back against the underside of the table, his broad frame blocking me completely. He reached over, snatched the canvas bag off my shoulder, and shoved it behind his hip—placing his own body right between the evidence and the lead tearing through the room.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2 "𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑..... 𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑛..... 𝐴 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘..." Katherine That organ in my body that pumps blood and keeps my whole blood warm somersaulted and I took a step back. Alexander Tyrone leaned on the door in all his glory.

"Wait. Whatever you want, I can give it to you. Money, anything. I'm taking both of them with me." Ethan steadied himself and regained his composure as he locked his sharp eyes onto Amber. Anyone else might have been intimidated, but Amber was not one to scare easily. She did not even lift her gaze before waving her hand. Tara panicked as her tears spilled uncontrollably while Ethan's eyes stayed on her, filled with nothing but heartache and tenderness. At that moment, I probably looked like the greatest villain of all. It was as if I was someone who had torn apart the fated love story of two star-crossed lovers.

The field roared in blood. Blood. Screams. Metal on rune-etched stone. The coppery scent of it clawing at my restraint. Mercs collapsing in vicious tides, students scattering like rodents, their wards and half-formed spells no match for dragonsteel. Chaos, the kind that most people would drown in. I didn’t. I lived in it.

he sighed, a sound of genuine, disappointed resignation. He pressed down. The blade tore into the flesh of my left forearm. A gasp of pure, unadulterated agony tore from my throat, my body violently jerking against the heavy metal chair. The thick leather straps bit mercilessly into my wrists and chest, holding me pinned, offering no escape from the searing heat of the blade. Hot, crimson blood began to well up from the deep, clean line he had drawn, spilling over my skin and dripping slowly, rhythmically, onto the pristine white tile floor. In the blinding brightness of the room, the blood looked unnaturally dark, almost black.