Fantasy Gunslinger Novels & Stories

My eyes landed on a sight that filled me pride and lust. Gunner’s knees wrapped around the hunter's head as he gracefully threw his body through the air, landing in a crouching position. My eyes snapped to the hunter in front of him, pointing his gun at Gunners face. I felt my skin burst into flames of rage and my heart exploded inside me, I lifted off the ground ready to unleash hell on these monsters. I reached for the hunter, lifting him into the air. I tensed and turned my fingers, compacting his body in on itself. I let his broken and twisted body fall to the ground in front of Gunner. He turned to look at me and our eyes connect for moment, his eyes flickered with a silver glow before

Lucas grabs him by the throat, lifting him into the air, flashing his fangs and looking just at terrifying as the wendigo. Three more humans move in, two with guns and another with a crossbow. “Let him go,” one of them orders, and his voice is vaguely familiar. “This gun is loaded with silver bullets with a wooden core. Unless you want to be nothing but goo on the forest floor, you let him go right now, you son of a bitch.” I jump forward, putting my back to Lucas’s and holding up my hands. “Stop,” I say, heart racing. “Put your guns down or I eviscerate you where you stand.”

Nothing in ancient lupus garou folklore made reference to such a thing, although many of his kind believed there might be a thread of truth in the fictional stories. He combed his fingers through his unkempt hair as he entered the bedroom. Standing before the bed, Diana pulled up her T-shirt slightly, her eyes averted, her fingers unzipping her jeans. Hell, she’d probably end up wounding herself and never get a shot off at the wolf. “Diana,” he said, drawing closer as she pulled off her pants, invading her space. “What kind of bullets are in the gun?” She glared at him. Silver bullets. He knew it. Just the way her eyes darkened and narrowed into dagger like slits. Damn her. She couldn’t take

I forced back the dizzying blackness and made myself roll onto my back, saving myself from the booted heel denting the spot my head had just been. I lashed out, my foot connecting with the side of a knee cap as I fumbled for my gun. The leg gave way beneath the impact and the wretch landed on top of me, its loose hair blinding me as razor sharp teeth sunk into the front of my bare shoulder. A scream exploded in my ears, burning my throat. My frantic fingers brushed leather and my gun slid free. I angled it upwards, wedging it against a scrawny rib cage as I filled it with the last of my bullets. It - she - pulled back, the oily pools of her black eyes sucking me in, paralysing me until her b

She slowly placed the knife in her right wrist and closed her eyes. “Stop.” She instantly shot her eyes open hearing his calm deep voice. Their eyes met and he was left baffled seeing no fear or tears in her eyes. Instead, she looked almost relieved for doing it. But Harry had other plans. He stared at her with his emotionless hard gaze before doing something which instantly shook her to her core. He brought his left scarred wrist forward and placed his in front of her. She looked at him with a frown but he only stared at her intensely before blasting a bomb on her.

he hisses. He turns on his heel, storming back out with a speed that should leave behind a smoke trail. I chase after him, following him to his room, pausing in the doorway when I see the absolute chaotic state it has been left in. It looks even worse than mine. It’s like Freddy Krueger had a field day in here; the entire bed has been tossed and slashed to smithereens. I look over when I hear a familiar click and see Silas loading his gun. It’s the exact same gun he pulled on me that night in the alley. It’s a gorgeous gold inlaid ASP handgun, with an image of Death, carved into the grip. He effortlessly loads the gun with his signature bullets - each one perfectly engraved with a scythe - t

Under the black leather stetson, his long black hair flowed over his shoulders. "Tooled up?" Jack asked. He'd noticed Clint had a few extra bulges about his person. Clint opened the leather coat, so Jack could see Clint's arsenal of Shuriken, a whip, curled up and not with a leather tail but a sparkling silver chain. Anathema to vampires, but it would be helpful as long as Clint kept his hi-tech gloves on. There were several pistols. Including his pride and joy, a beautiful five-shot Colt Patterson revolver, its holster was hanging around his hips, and two swords resting in the integral scabbards in the lining of his coat. Jack was impressed; whoever had taken Marius would meet their match w

The world turned orange as the blast ripped through the silence, sending a shockwave that rattled my teeth. "GO!" Ruan bellowed. The Phantoms surged forward, a wall of black leather and chrome screaming into the light. Gunfire erupted—not the muffled thuds of the assassins, but the heavy, rhythmic roar of the bikers' weapons. It was a symphony of chaos. I watched from the ridge, my heart in my throat. I saw Ruan dive off his bike while it was still moving, sliding across the asphalt and firing his revolver with a precision that was haunting. He was a god of the road, a creature of fire and lead.

The gun, an extension of his very being, the bullet wrapped in an aura of raw power, and the pistol—a masterpiece of craftsmanship, supercharged with the essence of Martial Overlord. That was Sean at his peak, a shot so swift, so precise that not even the sharpest reflex could dodge it at such close range. "Mister Kane!" Aaron's warning tore through the air just as Sean's finger squeezed the trigger. "Ambush—" His caution was a whisper against the roar of the bullet. The projectile, faster than sound, was the culmination of Sean's legendary skill, a technique surpassing any ordinary man's. The unyielding bullet, a testament to Sean's title as the Gun King, thundered toward Alexander's forehe

But I felt light-headed and my vision was already blurry. ‎But the full moon was out and still I saw his face clearly. ‎His hair was red like fire that burned in the night. And his eyes were blue like the sky. He wore an overcoat and black leather gloves. There was a scabbard on his left hip and a holster on his right. Holding a gun and a sword. ‎He was a hunter. ‎I tried to open my mouth to curse him, but I felt too weak. He took my hand and bound it with a leather belt.