Master Of Knife Novels & Stories

"I can. I am the Vampire Master, and this fool has done a wrong to me. He shall receive the punishment of death. Now leave!" Not waiting for any further protest from her, I slowly swing the man around; I want him to watch me in the eyes as I rip his throat to pieces. I want to show him what a monster I am. With my right hand, I yank his head to the side, exposing my fangs; I slice his skin open in shreds. His agonizing cries fill the silent air of the night. "Please stop," he pleads. "Nothing happened. We did not do anything."

He leaned down to fondle my breasts, his other hand palming my thigh. I felt absolutely disgusted. Master was about to kiss me, but I discreetly tilted my head, making his lips land on my cheek. He fumbled to remove his jeans while kneeling down. I decided to take my chance and stabbed him in the neck with the dagger. Blood spurted out, splattering over the thin cloth I wore. Master gasped and his hands went to his neck. "D-dear... Xa... Nthe?" Adrenaline was rushing down my veins.

Or what was left of him. "I am the queen of this mafia, bitch." I spat in his face. "A weak addition to the mafia." He tried to smirk, but it was concealed by the blood. "Do you know who the master is or not?" I snapped. "No." I plunged the knife in his heart with a smile on my face. "Bye." He screamed loudly taking his last breaths. I kept pressing the knife until his soul left his body. I took the knife out and put it on the table. I turned and looked at the men in front of me.

He laughs to himself because someone should really award him for having the strongest self-control even at this new scenario they are experiencing. “M-Master Cross.” That sounded divine to him. He loved that. “Kneel on the floor instead, Ronan.” The doctor was too quick to follow him and seeing him like that pleases him. Ronan is a beautiful man kneeling for him like that. Standing up, he walks in front of Ronan and just like what he expected, his manhood is better face-to-face to the guy. “Suck me, Ronan.”

When Vetta looked up at her, Danika really did give up then. She saw tears in Vetta's eyes. Through the tears, she saw her own death in the Mistress's dark-brown eyes. Then, the mistress sprang to her feet and withdrew a knife with a long sharp blade. She has never seen that kind of knife in her life, and she knows without a doubt that a knife like that will tear through the body killing instantly. Danika had the great urge to scream, but she opened her mouth and no sound will emerge. She was too shocked.

I tried blurring to him but my sensitive nostrils picked up a sweet smell of blood. Even in my wounded state, I wanted a taste of that mouth-watering blood. Ignoring the hunter, I followed the smell of the blood and found myself back in my kitchen with Tammy on her knees, blood dripping from a fresh cut on her palm, and a bloody knife on the ground.

“I need to air out, too. Let me have a little fun here, can’t I?” I should have killed him. But I didn’t. For Master. “Wait for me to be out. I’ll head back to the cabin.” He grinned, flashing his braced teeth as a crimson thought expanded from his temple. Forming his fingers into mock knives, he added, “Tell the rest I’ll be right back.” The door clicked shut behind me. The moment it did, the sound of slicing steel tore through the air—shrieks of metal and flesh colliding. The chaotic noise almost reached our cabin by the time I returned to grab some coffee.

There, standing in front of the massive prep island, was Marcello. My eyes fell on his wide muscle-packed back, and my breath caught in my throat. His crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, the fabric straining tight against the width of his shoulders and the hard muscles of his back. His sleeves were rolled up tightly to his elbows, exposing his thick, corded forearm. The terrifying head of the city's mafia was holding a professional chef’s knife, meticulously slicing fresh vegetables on a heavy wooden cutting board. He moved with an easy, quiet confidence, his focus locked on the food in front of him as the blade glided effortlessly through red bell peppers, onions, and herb

The hand gripped my lower abdomen tightly, fingers immediately sliding down toward my bare thighs. "I didn't call you here, Maya," a voice whispered coldly right against my ear, sending shivers through my veins. It was the Master. He looked panicked, and slamming the door shut was his only reaction. The Master held my hands and didn't let go. His heavy grip guided my shaking body straight into an empty room right next door. "Maya," he called out. The bright light in the room showed him holding a short, sharp knife in his left hand. His right hand was completely free, touching every single inch of my uniform, sliding over my chest and hips.

Next to her sat the person they knew best, who was even disgusted when a woman sat so close to him. Now he even seemed to be sharing food with that girl. “Do you like this recipe?” They all heard how the young master asked in a gentle, deep voice. This made them immediately gape in disbelief. Is that the man over there the young master's twin? But that's impossible, the young master didn't have any brothers that's why he's the onbe and only heir to the Dawson family. “Y-Young M-Ma…” Thomas was just about to call out to him but stopped when Zachary glanced at them and narrowed his eyes sharply.