Bloody Knife Novels & Stories

All hell broke loose after that. Rain’s hands and legs shook. She hadn’t wanted to scream, she thought maybe Alexander had already given the disgusting man permission to touch her. Then she saw his look of confusion. Then Pietro put the same fingers he had used to rub her through her jeans in his mouth. While Rain fought the urge to throw up just seeing the man’s action, she heard a screech and the something wet splashed a few drops on her face. Everything happened so fast. When she opened her eyes, she was met with the sight of a bloody knife sticking out of the back of Mr. Pietro’s palm.

Her eyes were cold and focused, and her gaze was unwavering. The remaining men became more cautious. They didn’t retreat, however, and attacked again. The seventh man pulled out a small weapon—a knife. He prepared to strike once more. Kyla saw the knife and anticipated the attack. The attack came quickly, but she was quicker. In one efficient motion, she caught the seventh man’s wrist and twisted it sharply. The knife fell before it could graze her skin. She pulled him forward and struck his throat hard and deep until he stopped moving.

The heavy knife in the burly man’s hands was cut open like it was tofu; the incision was hauntingly tidy. “How’s that possible?!” blurted the burly man. Fane took advantage of the situation and pulled his sword back, only to cut open the man’s head. There was a daunting fountain of blood from the dead man’s body, and the man rolled down the hill.

And then, her whole body softened and fell like mud. Blood, there was so much blood. Catherine looked back and could not say anything. Anna was on her back, coldly stabbing Catherine right in her back with that knife Catherine had used before. Catherine’s eyes got wide and she was gasping for every single breath. Blood from the wound caused by that fruit knife has been oozed out, soaking all her white dress, splattering on the floor. Billy took a few steps back, coldly watching her get weaker little by little. Billy,

But I wouldn’t give up. “So, is she dead? Is my cousin and her baby dead?” Ji’lahni asked in a broken voice. We all heard a big crash looking up we see Shadow growling half shifted. His mate jumped away from him in fear looking confused by his reaction to the question. I quickly answered the question. “No, she isn’t dead yet but she isn’t out of the woods she is still in very grave danger. But I must say she’s a fighter and so is her baby, it was very touch and go, But the issue is that whatever kind of knife was used isn’t a regular knife. It seems to be some kind of magical knife that once it enters the body or whatever it cuts won’t heal and the person would bleed to death because noth

Jarek argued making a grab for my arm but missing as I yanked it out of range. Slipping my hand down to my pockets my hand found my pocketknife. I pulled it out and flipped it open close enough to be able to draw blood for either of them regardless of if one held my baby. This wouldn’t be my first time drawing blood nor the last. "Size isn't always a factor. Knowing where to make you bleed out the fastest with the smallest of cuts has always been better knowledge for myself.” I seethed at them begging of them to screw up and get closer. “Or how to make the bleeding take hours but the pain be so excruciating that you will beg for me to finish you off.”

His eyes turned glassy, but he grit his teeth, standing firm. The sight amused me. I let the silence stretch between us. Then—one swift motion—I dragged the blade from the tip of his palm to the very end—deeply. His entire body jerked at the final cut. Blood dripped onto the floor, pooling in small, crimson puddles. Still, he didn’t make a fucking sound. I flipped the bloodied knife in my hand before shoving it back into his trembling grip.

I tried to dodge, but my emotional exhaustion and the confined space between parked cars limited my options. The blade bit deep into my shoulder, sliding between muscle and bone with a wet sound that seemed impossibly loud in the quiet evening air. Pain exploded through my upper body, followed immediately by the metallic scent of blood—my blood—filling the space between buildings. "First blood to me," the rogue snarled, yanking the knife free and preparing for another strike. "Now let's see how the mighty Alpha bleeds."

“My brother will never walk again because of you.” His boots kick my jaw. A tooth flies past my lips. Stars burst behind my eyelids. I choke on my own blood now, my system shutting down. “Wait–” I wheeze through chattering teeth. “I-I have—” Blood. Too much. Drowning out my words, pooling around Dakor’s boots. “I have to tell him. I—” Another kick to my good eye crashes my head into the ground. I can’t see. Can’t move. But for Bunny, I push—hard and inhuman—snatching the knife and stabbing Dakor’s thigh. Once, lethal. His femoral artery.

“Let’s see how good you really are.” Then he attacked. The blade flashed. I moved. Too slow. Pain slowed everything. The knife sliced through my arm. Deep. Blood spilled instantly. I staggered. Hart came again. Relentless. The blade aimed for my face. I jerked sideways. Barely. The knife missed my eye. Instead it sliced above my eyebrow. Blood poured down immediately. Into my vision. Into my eye. Everything blurred red. I couldn’t see properly. Couldn’t move properly.