Baki Cracking His Neck Novels & Stories

The crack of bone was loud and followed by his agonized scream as he collapsed, clutching his shattered arm. The second attacked from the right with his clumsy kick, aiming for my ribs. I caught his ankle midair, yanked him off balance and drove my elbow downward onto his kneecap. The sickening crunch echoed as he dropped to the floor, howling with his leg bent unnaturally. Their leader’s smug expression vanished. He hesitated with his eyes widening. Some instinct must have finally warned him he’d made a mistake, but I guess he was a no-brainer after all.

“I met you tonight. You’re a stranger.” I’m a secret. He brought a frightening, long finger to his lips. A secret you kept even from yourself. He grew, the room darkening into shadow as his neck craned and bent, his shoulders rising, his head ducking as it touched the ceiling. His legs lengthened in a chorus of ominous pops. With a deep crunch, his waist extended, his chest, his ribs, his hips cracking as they widened. He opened his arms, his hands, with the fingers that were too long, opening and flexing like greedy paws.

That's not fair! "Eat the damn cracker!" He shouted while I tried to break free. I watched Bart walk over quickly as he held me still. "Eat. The. Cracker. Now," Conor commanded, becoming angry with my blatant refusal to follow orders. He exhaled slowly and got nose-to-nose with me. "Eat the crackers and drink the broth; in trade, we will leave you alone." I shook my head. The cracker was very soggy against my tongue, so I didn't bother chewing it. I swallowed it quickly. Salty goodness. "Why do you have to fight me? I mean, you're being completely ridiculous!" He let go of me and left the room, slamming the door angrily. I got him to leave!

I looked at Adrian. He was looking at Noah. The expression that had no professional category. The one that was his now. That would always be his. He looked at me. "He checked the crack," he said. "Yes," I said. "After what happened at lunch," he said. "Yes," I said. "He came home and checked the crack," he said. "He needed to verify the substrate," I said. He looked at Noah. At the back of his head. At the ammonite on the cord.

“I I I I don’t think it’s very high sir” He cocks his head to the side and studies me “well we’re gonna have to fix that today then won’t we, take a deep breath in” by the time I breathe in he’s positioned himself with one hand on the rib and the other on my back. *Crack crack crick crack* “ahhhh ahhhhh ahhhhhhh oh my Gods! Agghhhh ahhhhh you’re killing me!” “will you hold still, one wrong move and you can make me puncture an organ or damage your spine or both! I’m almost done” * crack, crick, crack, crack* I cry out again and begin sweating profusely and I feel like I’m about to pass out.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Brack's sharp green eye and blue eye almost popped out of his head. "Sorry, honey, I didn't want to drip on the floor," I turned to the bathroom where I left my bag. I gave an exaggerated sway to my hips and peeked over my shoulder. Brack Jacobs was an ass man. He didn't so much as glance up as his eyes stayed glued to my butt cheeks. Score fifteen for me for breaking his shades. With one last hip sway, I closed the door behind me.

She could hear Britney’s sobs in the background. Daniel must have put their call on speaker mode. Isn’t she really thick-skinned? If it were Celine, she would have definitely dug herself out of that room. But then again, she’s Britney Smith, only she can do what she does and only she can accept this kind of embarrassment.

Cricket Boston whinnied his impatience, so Jase slid his stall door open and walked toward the exit. Boston followed like a puppy and I held Hank’s reins tight as I followed them. Walking into the arena, Jase closed the gate and left Boston standing in the middle. Boston was having none of it. He followed, going so far as to settle his head on Jase’s shoulder. “Buddy, I know you missed me, but I gotta help Cricket. Do I have to tie you?”

"There's the real you I'd been waiting for." I never knew there was something that could crack the bastard up. Let alone a woman... Who says there were rare men with no weaknesses? I didn't wait for another second to pass me by. I fucking swung. My fist collided with his jaw, and he staggered half a step back. Saint didn't say a word. He just straightened, wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand… and cracked his neck like he was finally being given permission to breathe. Then he came at me.

Nervous energy swirled around me as I cracked first my knuckles and then my neck. The sound relaxed me more than the feeling. I cracked my left hand again then my right. Blowing air out of my cheeks, I sat on my couch and started my deep breathing. In for eight seconds, out for eight seconds, eight times. I'd tried to stop with my first-day ritual, but the one and only time I hadn't done the whole cracking, breathing, relaxing thing, one of the lights had fallen on me during filming. During a sex scene. I'd been naked.