Backhand Blade Ash Of War Novels & Stories

“I’ll hold them off.” Reina nodded, and they quickly slipped out the back door. Russe turned to face the incoming men, drawing out his claws. “F*&k you!” He had faced many battles before, but he knew that this one would be different. These men were not like the shadowy figures in the forest. They were real humans, and they were armed.

Just like the ones that wounded him earlier, they were hooded like grim reapers. They must have thought his life was ripe to be plucked out but Ashki had been waiting for this moment, his fingers trembling in excitement as his chance finally appeared. Ashki blocked their weapons with his metal wristbands. He grunted as he felt pain erupt on his left shoulder but he channeled it on his other hand, swiftly slashing the face of the Mahan with his ax. He then pushed the other down with all his might and both of them came crashing on the ground, him using the Mahan as his cushion who no longer moved.

“I’m Ash.” Her smile widened, but she didn’t move the blade. She leaned closer, so close I smelled the sweet rot of her perfume, so close I felt the heat of her body through the thin gap between us. She wanted to toy with me, wanted me to twitch, to crack. But I didn’t. My fingers curled, slow, into the leather at my boot where my dagger waited. If she pressed harder, if she went too far, one mistake would end everything—for her, for me, for Zane.

Two warriors supported our Alpha between them while the rest of us formed a tight ring around them, watching the shadows as we pushed deeper into Bloodfang land. Our land. No one spoke. I ordered the retreat quickly, and when I gave an order, they followed it. No questions. But the tension hung thick in the air. Because we had not expected things to turn like that. The blade had gone straight into his abdomen. And the one who struck him… Ashenhowl’s heir. I glanced sideways at Zarek as we ran. His breathing was steady, but slower than usual. Blood had soaked through the dark leather armor across his stomach, staining the cloth wrapped tightly around the wound.

HEATED ALPHA ASHA When my father gave me the poison dagger he did it the same way he should as if he awarding me a medal. I looked the blade, a silver and gokd mixture that was so finely sharpened it seemed to cut through the very air. He had entrusted this in me, I had never wanted to do this at first but Naomi needed justice and the man responsible for her death would not be escaping it.

Barely standing. Asher. He had escaped. Somehow. The wolfsbane. The chains. He had broken free. And in his hand. His blade. Raised. Aimed at Kael's back. Kael saw my expression change. Started to turn. Too late. Asher drove the blade through Kael's back. Punched through his chest. Emerged on the other side. Kael stopped. Looked down. At the blade. At the blood. "You were like a son to me" Kael whispered.

A battlefield materialized around them. Fin launched from wolf form into human mid-air, gold armor forming around him before his boots hit dirt. The sword formed with his armor on the shift. Ashbane came at him wreathed in darkness, eyes black, hands full of magic that ate the light around it. They clashed in a blur of gold and dark. The vision accelerated through the fight until the final exchange. Fin deflected a blast of black magic with the blade, pivoted, and cut Ashbane's throat clean through. The body crumpled. Silence covered the field.

Branches slicing into my arms, but I can't feel the sting over my adrenaline. Just when I start to slow just a hair, believing I have put enough distance between me and the guards—something slams into me from behind. Fast and precise. I hit the ground hard, breath knocked from my lungs as weight crashes over me, pinning me flat. I lose all senses. Gasping for air and I try to figure out my next move. I twist immediately, driving my elbow back as hard as I can. My elbow is caught before hitting my target. My other hand snaps up toward my assaulters throat as best as I can manage being pinned on my stomach.

the Heir shrieked, the violet fire erupting in a defensive wall. Ash didn't use his dagger. He dropped the silver blade, watching it fall into the sapphire ruins below. He reached out with his right hand—the hand that was already a blackened ruin of bone and sinew—and he didn't aim for her neck. He didn't aim for her eyes. He aimed for the center of her chest. POV: Ash Ryder The heat was an objective reality, but Ash didn't translate it into pain. He processed it as a degradation of the dermal layers. He saw his fingers blackening, the tips beginning to glow with the intensity of the friction, but his arm didn't waver.

She pressed a folded cloth into my hands and knelt across from me without being asked, holding Ashford's shoulders down with a strength that belied her age. "The blade," I said. "I need to see the blade that did this." "Here." A young warrior, one of the eastern gate patrol, held out the weapon with shaking hands, the metal catching firelight in a way that confirmed what I already suspected. Silver, worked deliberately into the steel, forged specifically to poison a wolf's blood rather than simply cut it.