Knife Play Set Novels & Stories

Aurora's POV I nodded, interested yet a little apprehensive. A knife seemed much too up close and personal as compared to a gun; the stakes higher when your opponent was within arm's reach. Dominic handed me a blade, cool and solid in my hand. "First, you need to get comfortable holding it," he said, correcting my grip. "Firm, but not too tight. You need control, not stiffness." I did just that, adjusting my hold until it felt right.

I know he is still trying to find the knife, but unfortunately he is not going to find it, because there is no knife. The knife is with me, I cover it with a pillow and it is on my bed. That is why there is no way for him to find it. I know that he will hide if he can’t find the knife and he will attack me if he is given a chance, but I will not allow that. This is my game and he is only my player. I will not let him win. I remember the looks into eyes when he is raping me, the looks into his eyes when he is watching me rape by others, gives me something to be inspired to kill him, and not just him but also Eigner. The last one left.

“Good. You have teeth. You’ll need them.” She clapped twice. Warriors dragged three things into the circle. First: a maze of silver walls, ten feet high, reeking of wolfsbane. The Silver Labyrinth. I’d heard pups talk about it. Used to train warriors to run while poisoned. Second: a bowl of water. Black. Wrong. Third: a knife. Alpha steel. Kieran’s knife. The one he used to reject me.

The moment Kaidën spotted an opening, he lunged forward, using all his strength to bring the knife up in a vicious upward slice across the boy’s chest. A sharp gasp escaped the boy’s lips, momentarily stunning him. Kaidën pressed forward, using his momentum to close in and aim for a final blow, driven by a primal instinct that surged through him like wildfire. Just as the boy faltered, processing the shock of pain, Kaidën plunged the knife toward his side.

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Raphael’s face was so beaten up it was unrecognisable, but the heat of his glare made me smile. He had a bit of fight left in him. Good. That would make our session so much more fun. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you might have trouble holding a gun in the future.” I snapped on a pair of gloves, my voice casual as I examined the array of tools available to me on a nearby table. A different dozen blades. Brass knuckles. Screwdrivers, whips, nails, hooks… Hmm. Choices, choices. “Fuck you,” Raphael spat.

Shit. My phone buzzed again in my hand as I moved towards the door. It was another message from Phoenix. It was a single word, but it sent a mixture of fury and anxiety twisting in my gut. I'd barely made it out of the bedroom when I heard the safety click. Killian was already in the hallway, his hair still slightly damp. He opened the hidden panel behind the framed mirror. Inside it were his babies. Beautiful death lined up uniformly. Twin custom.45s. A sniper rifle. Throwing knives etched with the Cross crest. And his katanas. Killian's favorite weapons.

“We’ve got all sorts of fun stuff. Raffaele loaded us up with candy—his word for heavy tranquilizers. And if things get messy, we can go hand-to-hand. Limit bloodshed. Preserve energy. No unnecessary escalation.” “You know how he is,” Nabil smirked. “The king of controlled chaos.” I raised an eyebrow. “So what, you’re saying I’m the opposite?” Kareem chuckled. “You? You’ve got an impulsive revenge streak a mile wide. You’re mean, Mrs. Ricchezza—we give you that.” “Which is why,” Nabil said, reaching into a sleek black case, “we got you a little something.” He handed me a set of three custom throwing knives—sleek, balanced, deadly.

Zena grunted in an attempt to free herself from his grip but Knox was determined and resolute in his hold. He forcefully flung her hand to the side, sending the knife tumbling to a far corner of the room. Zena’s eyes trailed the weapon, widening with a fury that turned her gaze red. Swiftly, she retaliated by attacking his groin with the nape of her knee, sending jolts of pain through Knox’s form. He groaned in pain but she wasn’t moved by it. She basked in the very sound of it. Hurriedly, she retrieved the knife and returned to Knox, now kneeling in pain from the impact of her knee. With a sinister smirk curled at the corners of her lips, she pointed the knife at him. The cold gaze in her e

I say as I walk toward Xaver and Enrico. Tears begin to moisten their faces as I make my way toward them. I walk behind them toward my wall of weapons. I put the knife aside, needing something more effective for this moment. My eyes scan over the various options, landing on one in particular. A custom-designed whip with metal shards on the end. Creating multiple lacerations in one single hit. My mouth salivating from the choice, I pick it up and walk back to the men in the chairs.