Dracula Blade Novels & Stories

Count Vlad asked, leaning forward, eager to hear his response. "Absolutely," Blade nodded. Count Vlad leaned back in his seat, nodding slowly as he looked around the room. "Then the matter is settled. Darick The Bloodthirsty, you are hereby free to go." "No!” Lord Silas screamed as he fell to his knees. With my heart in my throat, I raced to Blade's side and bear-hugged him. "You're alive! How did you escape?" I asked and kissed Blade on his forehead. "Do you remember what Edward told us as boys?" Blade responded, finally looking me in the eye.

- Well, Alud, I will certainly tell you if I see something, I myself am extremely interested in my nature of seeing your world. I see you are tired, you can rest in the bedroom on the second floor - Conrod says, looking at the leader of the werewolves. Indeed, Alud had not yet fully recovered from the battle and escape from prison and looked extremely exhausted. Alud nodded approvingly and embracing Yulia went up to the second floor with her. Duk, meanwhile, took out a long bundle tightly wrapped in cloth from a black bag. Turning it halfway, Conrod saw an unusual-looking blade, all covered with hieroglyphs, which burned slightly, as if a flashlight was built into it. Duk placed the blade ca

someone screams. But Jamie's not attacking. She's using Elena's size against her. Runs under her. Between her legs. Too small and fast to catch. Gets behind her. Where the neck meets the shoulder. The weak point Meredith showed her. Dragon bone blade raised. One shot. One chance. She jumps. Higher than human should. Dragon magic enhancing. The blade drives into the weak point. Deep. Through scales. Through crystallized essence. Elena roars. Not pain. Shock. "How... that's impossible..." She shifts back to human. The blade still embedded.

The monster didn’t even flinch as Brandon looked up and nodded at Dax before he worked his arm free and grabbed the hilt, pulling it out and plunging it back in over and over again. At first, the Vampire seemed to think it was funny, laughing and swinging Brandon back and forth like the blade was tickling him. But then, his countenance shifted, and as Brandon stabbed him for the fourth or fifth time, he screamed out in pain. The Guardian dragged the blade down as far as he could reach and then pulled it straight up as the bloodsucker went rigid, and his knees buckled.

I only needed his mark. My steps echoed against the floor as I moved toward the far end of the room, where a locked chest rested. I knelt, retrieved the hidden key from beneath a loose tile, and opened it. Inside lay a single silver blade and a vial of venom from the deadlands; undetectable, swift, and excruciating. “One night left, Clarissa,” I whispered, holding the blade to the candlelight. “Either Drey gives me everything, or you breathe your last.”

He says, and stands in front of us. Gaza holds out a blade. “Hold out your hands.” Lysandra and I extend our palms. My wolf claws at my mind, he disagrees. But I push him away. This is the only way. There is no other choice. His silver eyes access us, looking for confirmation that we know what this is, and that we are sure of it. When he finds what he’s looking for, he presses the blade into our palms. Lysandra winces. But I don’t feel it. Nothing can hurt me again. The snapping of the mate bond was enough pain to last a lifetime.

“Mwahaha, I want every last one of them. Don’t make me wait!” I opened the lid. Inside lay the legendary hellblades, their malevolent aura instantly unmistakable in the dim room. And of course, the ancient weapons immediately sensed the demon’s presence channeling through my body, and the metal edges began to gleam with a sinister red light. Tethys’s feeling of absolute triumph surged through my veins like a lethal poison. But as I looked closer at the velvet lining, I realized one of the blades was missing. The last blade, the specific one that Manolya always kept close to her person for protection, wasn’t in the box.

“I have been waiting for warriors like you.” The eyes locked onto us, burning white, and my blood ran cold. Pelin sucked in a sharp breath beside me. “Manolya,” she whispered. “That thing is looking at us.” I didn’t answer. My body moved before my mind caught up. I lunged forward, with my hellblade raised, aiming straight for the statue’s chest. The blade passed through it. No resistance. No impact. Just a sickening drag through thick air, like slicing smoke soaked in magic. The force nearly pulled me off balance.

The vampire didn't even look. He caught the blade between two fingers, the metal shrieking as it stopped inches from his temple. "Is this the best the pack has to offer?" Dracula asked, his hand sliding from my neck to my waist, pulling me so flush against him that I could feel the cold hardness of his chest. "A boy who plays with kitchen tools?" He looked at me, his gaze dark and hungry, drowning out the shouting and the bare teeth of the wolves around us.

His words hung in the air, a menacing threat that sent shivers down their spines. The spies, their faces contorted with pain, still refused to answer. Damien's patience wore thin, his anger boiling over. He motioned to his men, who swiftly brought forth a toolbox filled with an array of sinister tools. With a wicked grin, Damien selected a small, blunt knife. He ran his finger along the blade, testing its sharpness. A twisted satisfaction washed over him as he felt the slight sting of the blade against his own skin, knowing that his wounds would heal instantly.