Combat Frenzy Novels & Stories

Damn, I am ready. “Let’s go!” I yell and thrust my body straight forward. My fist is pulled back, and my teeth are clenched as the earth blurs past me. He launches his body at me, and we meet with an explosive blast that sends everything around us flying in all directions. It’s much like the shockwave of a bomb. Adrenaline is pumping, testosterone is thick in the air. Fists are flying and powers are building. The thrill of the fight feeds my chaotic desires to fucking kill this guy. I can feel the wild look in my eye, and my confidence grows with each painful blow I land to this fucker’s face. Damn him!

“Absolutely fucking not. There’s no way in hell that my pregnant mate will get anywhere near bloodthirsty vampires in the middle of a feeding frenzy.” Blood frenzies were essentially blood orgies. Sex and feeding went hand in hand in feeding rooms. They get so hopped up on the high of adrenaline, blood, and sex so much so that it resembled a shark feeding frenzy. It was not a pleasant concept to imagine and probably even harder to witness. I leveled my mate with my patented look that I always aimed at dickheads and douchewads. It always loudly broadcasted my irritation and anger. He flinched minutely, but I still saw it.

Haider's fury erupted like a tempest within him, an inferno of anger and frustration threatening to consume everything in its path. It surged through his veins like molten lava, fueling a rage that burned with an intensity unmatched by any force in the world. His vision blurred with a red haze as his grip on reality slipped, replaced by a seething wrath that knew no bounds. The walls of the Blue Ocean Arena seemed to close in on him, as if mocking his powerlessness in the face of the injustice that had befallen him.

The room erupts into chaos, furnitures shattering, walls cracking. I feel his sharp teeth sink into my shoulder, but it only intensifies my rage. I counter with a vicious swipe of my limb, sending him crashing into the wall. Cement cracks beneath his impact. My wound closes back as I recover swiftly, my paws scraping against the floor while I charge again. Our jaws clash, teeth snapping wildly, each of us seeking dominance. The room blurs around me, a whirlwind of chaos and destruction. I'm driven solely by primal instinct, my focus fixed on defeating Ace.

She couldn’t deny how his muscular body and pure masculine magnetism drew her to him. If he regained movement she’d die. She knew that and he probably wished he could get his hands on her. She glanced across the room to stare at the cracked and peeling white paint that ran the length of the room on the floor by the door. The staff called it the kill line. All test subjects were shackled by each limb. Though they were strong enough to break chains occasionally, none had ever broken all four at once. They only needed one free limb to kill. She sat inside the kill zone with an enraged, huge male whose two arms were chained but they weren’t connected to anything anymore. That realization made he

He killed her for nothing. My hatred fuelled me as we battled, he was still strong and wiry. Leaping in and out of defensive manoeuvres trying to wrong-foot me. It was obvious which of us had completed decades of attack training and which had only brute strength to rely on. Brute strength and boiling rage.

Talk about what? Dante stepped toward me, "chill mate." I growled again, my chest vibrating, "I will not chill, talk about what Dante? Your deep fucking love for each other? How amazing it is to fall so quickly? Some other rom-com shit?" Dante just shook his head, "You're acting so fucking paranoid. And so what if we were? Who are you to stop us?" "I am your fucking alpha!" I snarled, flying at him. I flicked my wrist and it became a paw, allowing me to smack Dante across the face, claws digging into his skin so that when I pulled away, my nails dripped blood.

The noise had been deafening. Metal against metal, flesh against flesh, shield against shield. And over it all, the battle cries of warriors lost to bloodlust and determination to kill or be killed. Brand had forgotten what it felt like – the all-consuming need for the blood of his enemies to be spilled on the ground at his feet.

Warning⚠⚠: this chapter is a bit emotional My mom has been behaving very strange lately, receiving strange calls and crying after receiving those calls. I have tried asking her what it was but as usual, she doesn't open up. "mom I am fade up with all these shit, can you stop crying and tell me what the hell is wrong with you" I said "language", she said Oops!! even in a bad condition she still care about my language. so funny I said sarcastically

Rage was cursing for him, everyone made its way to flee his path, even his second in command had hidden after telling him the news, Rufus hadn't been able to control himself and had punched him in the face. A howl escaped from his mouth, relieving all the anger, Patricia had fled, Schirouca had escaped and on top of all, he had Morgaine on his tale bickering about the team of vampires that had been destroyed.