Cross Weapon Novels & Stories

When Nicholas returned to the rental house where I had lived, he stared straight at the pile of newspapers on the ground. The dust all over seemed to be telling him how much time had passed here, and that no one had ever been here during that time. "Astrid... No, you wouldn't die..." His voice trembled as he slowly reached out and lifted a corner of the newspaper. A small, dried bloodstain appeared beneath it. "Ah!" Nicholas's legs gave way as he fell to the ground. He no longer dared to lift the remaining newspapers. He seemed to have stopped breathing as he stared blankly without any color on his face. What he had been afraid of and had always refused to believe had come true.

I sat up and instinctively reached for the wound on my chest. "That's... impossible." The gash that should have been fatal was completely healed — as if the blade had never touched me. But the amethyst pendant had cracked down the middle. "Stop poking at it. You're fine. If it weren't for my charm, you'd be dead. And don't forget — you owe me. A lot." The Witch was at her usual station, tinkering with potions, the heavy scent of herbs filling the room.

When I focus my vision and look more closely, I can tell that Colton is holding a piece of cloth and Ryder is busy staring at a painting. They both looks so lost in thought. Like their minds have traveled to the past and it wants to linger there for a few minutes before they snap back to reality. “And the weapons?” I ask Damon, walking over to a fancy crossbow made of gold sitting beautifully on a stage carved just for it.

Croix screamed furiously. Then, he swung his leg right toward Harvey’s face. His body was oddly twisted; a terrifying strength was wrapping all around him. Harvey didn’t even raise his head to look at Croix. He kept his firearm raised, prepared to take another shot. At the same time, Rachel appeared from the corner of the box and swung her hand. A fork flew straight toward Croix’s head! An ambush! What a terrifying attack! Croix’s expression turned cold; he could feel just how terrifying Rachel’s attack was. He had no choice but to stop attacking and swing his fist at the fork.

"Between Beta and Omega, I know. But in the pack I'm the weakest and only me" "But how will you find your mate if you keep covering your scent with mine?" "You said you weren't interested in that sort of thing, so it wouldn't hurt you if I used your scent to draw Omega closer to me". "It's dangerous and you know that, if you meet my mate, she can be confused or even she can reject me before we even meet" "I know, but I think I've found my mate." Noah said. "How? You just go with my clothes" "You remember that girl I accidentally bumped into when we were leaving the convenience store? We dropped her umbrella and you gave it to her, do you remember?" Noah said.

She took a deep breath and turned toward the street. For the first time, she didn't open the door and allow the mockery and jeering to consume her. Later that night, the door banged open. Luther stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and perfume, arms wrapped around a woman in a spaghetti-strap dress. Her gaze swept over Willow, eyes flashing with obvious disdain. Then, she rose onto her toes and planted a loud, sloppy kiss on his lips, leaving no doubt about her contempt.

Andrew’s cross. “Up,” he said. I obeyed on shaky legs, my back pressing to the cool, X-shaped cross. The wood smelled faintly of leather and wood polish. He buckled my wrists high above my head first, then knelt to spread my ankles wide apart, securing them to the lower arms of the cross. The position left me completely open, with my tits thrusting forward, hips tilted, cunt glistening and gaping from the night’s sex. He stepped back to admire his work, sipping from a porcelain coffee cup he’d poured while I was still in the sheets.

I asked "Yes." "Good, take the wheels." I released my hands from the stierring wheel and he quickly held it. I went to the backseat of the car and I raised it up revealing all kinds of guns. I took a combat rifle and I cocked it. I opened the door of the backseat and I gave a F you sign before I started firing. Okay, two cars with two shooters each..hmm..not bad. They fired at me and I kept dodging and using the door of the car as shield.

I secured the throwing knives along my belt and slid the crossbow into a leather holster strapped to my thigh. As I tightened the last strap, my gaze went to the shield mounted on the far wall. It bore the insignia of the Rogue Dominion—a black wolf’s head encircled by jagged thorns, a symbol of survival against all odds. I hesitated for a moment before deciding to leave it behind. Speed was my ally on this journey, and the shield would only slow me down. I fastened the final strap on my gear, my hand brushing the hilt of my sword one last time before I turned and exited the armory.

I step inside and stop short. Cross is standing near the stalls, his back to me as he watches the horses with a contemplative expression that does not belong on his face. For a moment, the scene is almost peaceful, like something out of a painting, and the dissonance makes my skin crawl. He turns slowly and tosses something toward me. I catch it by instinct, the weight solid in my hands. A riding crop. A saddle follows, landing at my feet. “Come on,” Cross says easily. “I hear you’re a good rider. If you win against me, you get to earn my surprise earlier.”