Azrael's Blade Novels & Stories

He wondered if Father Ordan would deem it fit to punish him if he saw him. He didn't doubt it possible. Shaking the thought from his mind, he returned his attention to the veils. They were identical to Valerik's, the wide blades, curved as scimitars, arched less. They proved slightly shorter than the priest's, but Sethlzaar was content. In simplicity, it simply possessed a curved blade. Where his mates' met a rectangle as guards before their hilts, his possessed no guard, the blades simply grew into the hilt.

I really love you. Through the lines, I only read his reluctance. Without hesitation, I blocked the number that I could recite even in my dreams. On the wedding day, Colin, covered in blood, crawled across the road and blocked our path. Through the car window, I saw him drag himself toward us. He shouted, "Selena, help me! I regret it so much. Come and see me." It was a horrific scene, making me jump. Lucien quickly covered my eyes. "Don't be scared. I'll have someone take him away."

Dean Withers. He is older, but not frail. Not even close. His jet black hair combed neatly away from his face, his uniform pressed to perfection, and a golden crest of Aetherion Academy pinned over his heart. A loyal servant of Elarion. A loyal servant of Aeron- the man responsible for throwing me into Skyless Keep. "Miss Thalorien," he says warmly, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Please, sit." I don't. His smile does not falter, but something sharp flickers behind his eyes.

I didn’t know what the sphere was for, but judging by the fact that it was no longer in the box, I could assume that it was the handle that was on the blade. “I love you too, Ezra.” ************************************** I smiled when I saw Lia putting on a sundress. She strapped the blade to her right thigh just as I taught her, and though I knew that she was yet to get used to having it there, I was thankful for the fact that she didn’t object because she had it.

Elira and Theron stood on opposite sides of the vale, forming a ring of star-magic and shadow. Kael held Selene steady, even as her fingers bled silver sparks. She whispered his name, just once. And then—he stepped back. --- The wind howled. The ground shimmered. And from the crack in the vale— He stepped through. Azrael. Still wearing his old silver cloak. Still tall, still too beautiful. But changed. His eyes no longer held cruelty. Only remorse. And a deep, humming sorrow. --- Selene’s voice was barely audible. “You’re late.”

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

He protected me… "I may not be an ideal king, but I am still one of the finest swordsmen!" Azrael grunted, raising his sword as he plunged it straight into Jaylen’s chest, before pulling his sword free and killing the Fae. My heart was ringing in my ears as Azrael fell to his knees. "Azrael!" I cried, dragging free and slicing off another Fae’s head as I caught my brother before those shards went right through him. "You... Why?!"

My eyelids try to close with all their might, but I resist and slowly manage to open them, although everything is blurry, I see that I am on the ground, lying. When I close and reopen them, Azael's face appears in front of me, watching me with a frown, with his piercings and his black shirt through which his tattoos peek out and spread across his neck. But when I blink again, there is no sign of him. As if it was part of my imagination.

When the smoke clears up, and I finally can see Azrael, I will the ground under him to shake, throwing him off the balance before I jump, my magic propelling me forward and calling my twin blades to my hands. He rolls out of the way, calling forth his sword, and our blades meet, steel against steel. Wholly immersed in the task before me, I’m completely thrown off when the wind blows and musk, patchouli and mahogany reach my nose. It distracts me enough that Azrael slashes his sword across my chest, and my blood sprays on myself, him, and the grass. “Shit, Aylin! What happened? You always block that strike!” Az scolds me

His lips curled into a sneer, revealing sharp fangs that gleamed red in the dark. Feziam, the ruler of Shivvaraian, stood tall and imposing. The lines of his face were etched with centuries of wisdom and power. As he unsheathed his blade, the ground seemed to darken, the air thickening with electrifying tension. The clash of their swords echoed through the air, the sound reverberating with the gravity of their conflict. Azazel's movements were fueled by desperation he had never experienced before. Every strike, every parry, was a testament to his love and his longing to be with Azrael.