Fake Knife With Blood Novels & Stories

Her voice was trembling, and I had a feeling it had nothing to do with the cold. I pulled back a little and held the knife up, turning it this way and that so the stones in the hilt caught the light. It was a nasty-looking knife with a slightly curved tip. And it was very sharp, especially for a rogue weapon. “One of the rogues in Bloodmoon was carrying it. Seemed pretty attached to it, actually,” I said, shooting her a curious glance. “Why?” “No reason.” “Really? Because you went very pale just now.” I turned the knife over. And over. Ensuring that devastatingly sharp blade glinted in the torchlight.

"You planned it all? Too bad your brain couldn't plan for this." Before he could blink, in one quick motion, the blade in the air left my fingers like a whisper of death. It sliced through the side of his cheek-clean, sharp, leaving a trail of blood like a red warning. He flinched, hands instinctively rising to his face before the knife embedded itself straight between the eyes of the guard behind him . The body dropped with a thud . The silence that followed was heavy. Deadly. I turned my back on him without fear. But Klaus's voice rang out immediately, sharp as gunfire.

Dark, thick blood was already trickling out of the wound, staining the black fabric of my sleeve and dripping down onto the polished floor. Her right hand began to shiver violently. Her fingers, which had been so tight around the black handle, lost all their strength. With a sharp gasp, she pulled the blade out of my flesh. Clank. She let go, and the heavy carving knife dropped flat onto the floor, the metal making a loud, ringing sound in the quiet hallway.

All this power, all this reputation, and Danny was taken right under my nose. I could feel my eyes welling up in tears, hot and heavy, burning to get out. But I took it in. I forced them back down. Crying wasn't going to bring him back. I reached into the wardrobe and picked up the pocket knife I kept in the top drawer. I flipped the blade open, the metal catching the dim light of the room. I didn't hesitate. I pressed the edge into my skin and sliced it through my palm, deep and slow. I didn't even flinch. I just watched my blood drip heavily onto the wooden table surface, thick and dark.

It’s old-world in style, ornate, but I touch the blade edge so gently with my thumb and get an instant slice of blood. “Ouch…that’s sharp.” It’s been filed so remarkably precisely that it could cut fabric with only the weight of air. I suck the dribble of blood from my thumb, re-sheath it in the wooden holder, and cradle it for a moment, welling up once more because I know exactly when this appeared.

BLADE 2. He forced his tongue into my mouth and pinned my two hands roughly on the bed. He doesn't allow me move. I wiggled my body but he ended up hitting my boobs with his palm. The pain sent the wrong sensation down my pussy. It throbbed shamelessly. He stopped kissing me and before I knew it, I landed a slap on his cheek which I regret doing. His demeanor changed instantly. I presume it didn't sit well with him.

While he was still enjoying my body, I suddenly poked my two fingers into his eyes and said, "Don't look at me like that! You will receive terrible consequences for that disgusting act." As soon as I finished, Gus yelled and instinctively threw me away. I rolled a few times on the ground. While the men were swarming around Gus, I stood up quickly and pulled the small knife from my pocket. This knife I got from Blood Moon's barracks, and I carried it with me all the way. Gus's eyes were bleeding; he was still screaming and ordering the others to kill him. Fortunately, these men looked down on me, so they didn't attack at the same time, but only two men rushed to fight me.

Frothy, pink blood began to bubble from her mouth and drip down her chin. Stabbing her once more for good measure, Kali dug the six-inch blade into her left lung, then ripped it from her body. She took great care not to get any of the blood on her clothes and pushed the woman to the ground. Jasmine’s mother sprawled to the floor, no air coming into her needing body, and the held knife clattered to the linoleum tiles.

his hand trembles. He freezes. A faint voice echoes in his mind. VOICE (O.S.) Is this really the only way? Zeke shuts his eyes tightly. ZEKE (V.O.) Yes. There’s nothing else. No one left to hold on to. He grips the knife with both hands. He lets out a breath and slashes— SLASH! Blood sprays. Zeke gasps—eyes snapping open. But there’s no pain. Before him — a hand, covered in blood, has caught the knife mid-swing.

Let alone, not give me the answers I needed. I watched the satiating sight of the Red, the crimson liquid that popped out of his throat and out of his mouth in an enormous amount, as he choked on his stinky blood with my left foot still hung in midair with the knife from its tip, buried deeply into the spot just above his collarbone while the other foot remained solidly and elegantly standing and rooted to the ground, leisurely.