Fantasy Guns Novels & Stories

The kind that carried guns loaded with silver rounds and holy water vials that burned through supernatural flesh like acid. “Stay behind me,” I hissed. Barbie raised an elegant brow. “Darling, I was slaying monsters before your species discovered fire.” “Cool,” I said. “Then let’s slay these guys quietly before they turn us into science projects.” But quiet? Yeah. That didn’t happen.

I lifted it out with careful hands and opened the latch. There it was. A sleek silver pistol with a pearl handle, nestled in custom-fitted foam. Below it were six bullets that gleamed with an odd, blue tint. Wolfsbane. Enough to kill six werewolves, or one werewolf six times over. I stared at the weapon that could end Darragh's life, that could destroy everything I cared about. In Ciara's vision, this gun was the difference between my best friend living and dying. Between having a future and losing everything.

Now that he and Christian had come up with a device that allowed team members to talk to each other at almost any time, running such a large area was much easier. Likewise, Christian and Jamie had worked to develop two guns that shot special bullets made of silver, which gave them many more options when it came to fighting Vampires at a distance. The Vampires had been the first to try weapons, and when it became clear a Vampire could shoot a Hunter and kill him, the Hunters and Guardians realized they needed to be able to fight back with long-range weaponry. These specially designed revolvers allowed them to do just that.

Chapter 75 Rhea's POV I had thought that Mercy was exaggerating when she said that there was an armory here. But right this moment, I was staring at a freaking armory fit for a king. Rows of swords, bows, daggers, whips, clubs, and spears were neatly arranged in the enormous room. My eyes widened when I saw that one side of the room was completely filled with guns ranging from simple pistols to shotguns. Was he hoarding the entire supply of weapons for the war? He was not a dragon, right? But dragons hoarded treasures, not weapons!

Mafia men and their massive egos. “You think I can’t?” He spat, standing up and walking closer to me. As soon as he was within arms reach, I turned off the light, grabbed his arm and twisted his wrist. I heard the gun drop to the ground. I located it with my foot and pushed it backwards. I twisted his entire arm to his back and kicked him. As soon as I heard the loud thud, I turned the lights back on, brighter ones this time and saw the man groaning in pain on the ground. Bending down to pick the gun, I checked for bullets and sure enough, it was loaded. “Thanks for the gift.” I say, waving the gun at him before stuffing it in my purse.

I’m so lost in my fantasy of things that are less likely to happen than a blizzard in summer that I don’t notice my broken window until I’m sitting on the couch. There’s a rock the size of a golf ball in the middle of the house, probably thrown from a short distance. My first instinct is to grab the gun resting underneath the pillow I don’t use, but the spot is empty. My heart races. The window is meshed; only a kitten could pass through, but I don’t think felines are capable of wielding guns. No. Someone sneaked into my house and stole my gun. The broken window is a warning, and I know exactly who it is from. This is why I have to say yes to Rhys’s insane proposition.

Next was the rapid plunge of his manhood into her entrance. Lana screamed in shock. Add to that the fact that she felt as much pain as before. "A-Andrew..." she said, then tried to take her femininity back from him. "Please don't, sweetheart," he begged, gazing at her to meet her eyes, then kissing her hard afterward. She moans, but it is trapped between their mouths as Andrew pushes his weapon back inside her womanhood. This time she somehow felt a tingling sensation that caused a seemingly hot liquid to flow out from inside her.

In another, I held a small, glowing orb in my hands, its light pulsing in rhythm with my own accelerated heartbeat. The most potent images were of battles—clashes of steel, roars of beasts, and the chilling screams of pain. I saw Lycans fighting alongside humans, an unlikely alliance forged in the fires of war. There was blood, so much blood, staining the ground and splattering against stone walls. And through it all, a sense of immense power, both terrifying and exhilarating, pulsed within me, emanating from the glowing parchment. The visions intensified, becoming more vivid, more insistent. I saw a moon, swollen and blood-red, hanging ominously in a sky torn by lightning. Below it, two opp

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His eyes flare fervently, “Don’t test my patience otherwise you won’t get the opportunity to play with your toys.” Lifting my hands up, “Fine, fine. I surrender.” Mainly because I wanted to marvel the weapons here. “Good girl.” Heat flourishes to my cheeks whenever he calls me that. I shouldn’t like being praised by him, but I do. Clearing my throat and scanning the room, white tiled walls and black tiled floors, the familiar scent of gunpowder tickling my nose with glee. All four walls were filled with different types of weapons; rifles, pistols, shotguns, revolvers, semi-automatics – the list was endless. Metal desks lay beneath the rakes, some filled with bullets made of liquid crystals a