Compass And Blade Novels & Stories

There was he, his only objective was to kill the rogue alpha without any mercy. He looked at him with his nose flaring, Finn smirked and took out his sword. "Nice to meet you, Alpha Blaze or should I say your majesty." He bowed down playfully, Blaze growled. "I don't know what do you think? I think majesty suits me better." He smirked and Finn glared at him. "You will pay for this." He pointed out with his sword on his chest and lunges toward him, fortunately, his reflexes were good and he avoided the sword then snatched it harshly away from him.

I held the pull against the blade's insistence, breathed and let him be right, because he was right, because drawing the blade in sight of the compound was the single most visible thing I could do and visible was still the enemy even when every instinct I had was screaming to move faster. We crossed the compound's outer perimeter. The tree line received us. The moment we were inside it I had the blade in my hand and the pulse running up my arm in the specific frequency that had been sharpening since the chamber at Ironclaw — it was not uncontrolled, not the overwhelming surge that Sera had described, but directed. Awake. The blade, the bloodline and the person carrying both of them operating

I forced myself to say. "It doesn't matter, Reis. As a matter of fact, she's on my side now, and she's going to help me execute my plan. And there's nothing you can do about it." He smirked and leaned back in his chair before snapping his fingers. Some men approached with a tray. Resting on it was a blade emitting a glowing green light. "Let me introduce you to the Blade of Poison," Cillian began. "I'm sure you can sense the lethal energy radiating from this blade. We've spent years designing it to kill usurpers like yourself."

“Then what are you here for?” He pulls his hand back out, and there is something in it. Metal catches the low light. He turns it once in his fingers and offers to handle it first. I know the weight of that blade before I touch it. Guild issue. My hand closes around it before the rest of me can object. The balance is clean and familiar and my grip adjusts on its own. “You recognize it,” he says. “How did you get this,” I ask. “It was delivered.” Silence thickens.

No witnesses. Vesper went rigid. I felt her gaze snap toward me, sharp with shock and worry. I said nothing. My hand moved to the compartment between our seats and pulled out the tactical blade. The steel was matte black, the handle ridged with smooth, ergonomic grooves designed for a perfect grip. She blanched. The color drained from her face in the dim dashboard glow, her gaze snapping to the weapon. “What are you going to do? Why are you stopping?” I leaned over, my hand returning to her thighs. She pressed her legs together, her muscles tight with resistance, a pathetic, instinctive barricade.

He was the wealthy, arrogant playboy girls would swoon around, and also the Blade family's eldest son. "Ezekiel?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “Ezekiel Blade,” he said. "Why are you without your glasses, freckle face?” He always mentioned his last name like he was nothing without it. But I knew that he loved the name so much as it meant people would fear him. I rolled my eyes, pulling my hand away from his grip. “Still a bully, huh? Besides, I don't wear glasses anymore, and I'm definitely not freckle face. It's Lydia Winters,” I said, mimicking his words.