Black Knight Tiche Novels & Stories

a voice drawled from the shadows. Timothy bolted upright, the movement sending a sickening pulse through his skull. Kan Nelblack leaned against the dresser, his dark hair messy, his silver-grey eyes tracking Timothy like a target. He’d ditched the top hat, looking less like a circus ringmaster and more like the butcher he was. The tiger chuffed, stretching its massive limbs with a grace that made Timothy’s stomach do a slow, nauseous roll. The memory hit him like a lead pipe to the gut. The alley. The bite. The betrayal.

That made the majestic King fall helplessly on the floor with a shatter. "The God is checkmated, Papa," he continued before, to his father's surprise, crashing the White King more using his expensive shoes. "Relax. We've trained the Amati well. He is furious. Watch how he will kill the god." He grinned. "The Black Knight will kill your enemy soon." . . . AND THE BLACK KNIGHT WAS ROARING IN FURY, INDEED. The sound of his black Ducati burning the street was just as deadly as how the man was riding it—cutting through the dark and passing through the night like the silent murderer he was made to be. The anger in his fearless eyes was screaming for blood. Rome. Wanted. Blood.

“Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s going to be alright.” I ask him about the mission, but he says that the Black Tiger is going to explain everything to me. Can you believe it? Everyone knows he doesn’t talk to anyone. I step outside, and see him riding a motorcycle in front of the building. He’s wearing a black silk shirt, opened to the chest, showing his pale skin. His hair is styled messily, with some strands covering his eyes. His gloved hands are on the grips, ready to start the vehicle. He turns his head and looks at me, and his dark stare makes my body shiver.

Each of them formidable alphas from packs with unique abilities and legacies. Caius Knight Black of the Nightshade Pack was a tall man with long, sleek black hair that framed his chiseled face. His eyes were a piercing silver, sharp and calculating, often concealed under the shadow of his brow. The Nightshade Pack was known for their mastery over shadows and stealth, and Caius embodied that secrecy and quiet danger. His wolf, as dark as night itself, was a shadow among shadows, capable of blending into the darkness without a trace.

He was choking and still had his head pinned to the ground. Her Black Knight abruptly yanked him up and spoke fiercely. "Who... are... you...?! As another devastating punch fell on his face, he trailed off, and it appeared as though Kayla Knight was ready to destroy him at any cost. "You've got to be kidding me if you think you can get away with touching her!" The knight screamed angrily and tossed him up and down on the hard floor without waiting for an explanation. Before lying flat on the floor, her blackmailer arched his back for a brief moment. His body remained motionless, and all he did was look blankly into the haze before passing out.

But the air changes when a new presence slides through the hall — silent, massive, impossible to ignore. A hush spreads behind my eyelids. I open them just in time to see him step out of the shadows. Tall. Broad shoulders draped in black. Eyes like forged silver — not warm, not cold. Just sharp enough to cut through bone. Damian Blackthorn. I’ve heard his name in whispers since I was a pup. Stories of a wolf who razed a whole border clan to the ground for daring to betray him. A king without mercy. But kings don’t come to filthy auctions for leftover daughters.

How would they win then? “I’m afraid our new friend doesn’t agree,” Black Hand laughed and said. Orange Ivy turned to Mane with a questioning look on her face. Mane scratched his head and smiled wryly. But he admired Black Hand for seeing through his thoughts and understanding just what he was thinking. “Black Hand is an assassin. His weapons are the source of his strength. Vital Orange is a Tiger, and without his claws and teeth, he’s basically 65% weaker. As for you, you cannot really be classified as a Bull or a Boar because your fighting style seems different. I’m assuming that the whip attached to your hip isn’t just for show. Which means you are more likely to be a rare type of Thrashe

He is in for a lot “Who sent you?” I give him a chance again “Never!” he spits violently, so I take the knife and start tearing his lips. I am going to make his lips wider, so he can grin from ear to ear When he realizes what I am going to do to him, he starts to beg, "Please," he gasps. "Please stop." "Then talk!” Charles, who has been quiet suddenly bellows "Alpha... Alpha BlackStone. From LaidWaters pack."

*Tjeck* I answer the phone, heart pounding like a war drum in my chest, but it’s not Thorn on the other end. Instead, a cold, familiar voice slithers through the receiver, and I clench my jaw, my grip tightening around the phone as if it were a lifeline. “Tjeck,” Christopher’s voice drips with malice, and I can almost see the smirk playing on his lips. “You hoped, huh? That is a bit pathetic… Well, I’m just calling to let you know, we’re coming for your pathetic pack next.”

ALEXANDER My father and sister were both pretty fucked-up, but, damn, Blake was sick. Because we had to make do with what was available in the casino, which wasn’t much, Blake had a bunch of his warriors holding the members of the Bois Sombre Pack down while he tortured them. They were both fully naked after being forced into their human forms. Chef’s knives were brought in from the kitchen, and Blake tested each one of them out on the men’s torsos until he figured out which one was the sharpest, their ensuing screams widening his smile, his eyes gleaming.