Next Strike Novels & Stories

I thought he would give up, but he summoned all the werewolves in the pack for the 99th time and got on his knees, swearing to the Moon Goddess, “Mia, you’re the only Mate I’ll ever have. If you refuse me, I’ll keep asking until you agree.” I was moved by his determination and love. After that, I established a Mate Bond with him. To repay his love, I gave him 99 handmade forgiveness coupons on the day of our Marking Ceremony. I promised him that I would forgive him 99 times. As long as he still had coupons left over, I would forgive him and stay with him no matter what he did.

He says directly to Jessica. “Anything else?” She replies, sounding a bit pissed. “No deadly shots either. The first whose back touches the ground loses.” By now we have a lot of spectators. “Show her what you got, Jessi,” one of her minions screams. She gives a sly smile in my direction, then Gad says, “Strike.” She races at me and goes for my neck immediately, I’m able to clumsily block it. It is just a distraction. She kicks me hard in the belly and lands a hard blow to my face. My ears ring, eyes see nothing but white sparks.

She’d been riding Mireille’s coattails these years and never took Raina seriously. But before her palm hit Raina’s face, Raina caught it. Next second — smack — like thunder breaking the silence. Raina returned the slap hard, sending Odessa sprawling. “Ah! Odessa, you okay? Someone call a doctor!” Mireille rushed over, panicking. No one expected the seemingly delicate Raina to strike like lightning — one slap and Odessa was down. Odessa was dazed, stunned for a long moment, shame flooding her face. Then, bloodshot eyes blazing, she lunged at Raina and grabbed her neck with both hands.

“We’ll track down every dollar she moved. Expose every lie. And we’ll purge her from the system.” Together, they faced the war room as it is called for now. Because the next strike was coming. But this time? They would be the ones igniting the match.

"So I use their size against them." "Exactly," Lucius said. "Don't ever try to block a strike. Slip right past it. Wait for them to miss, step inside their guard, and hit them where they're soft. The throat, the eyes, the back of the knees. Forget about playing fair. Just survive."

he demands she took a step close to him, looking him directly in his eyes, lips inches away from him, she glares at the man she loves the most before cursing at him "slimy, lying, good for nothing, selfish, little bastard" she starts off slow but as more words come out the more aggressive she becomes "That's it" he growls, pushing her so hard her body comes crashing into the floor. He folds the thick lather belt in too and strikes her with it, multiple times. *strike* i provide for you *strike* i feed you *strike* and this is how you repay me *strike* calling me a bas- *stike* -tard *strike*

“Don’t.” Thorne stepped in front of me and tilted my chin up. “You earned this. Disobedience has a price.” Aurelius moved behind me. The first strike landed across my ass. Sharp. Hot. Fire bloomed across my skin. I gasped as my body jerked forward. The second strike came harder, landing on the same spot. Pain layered over the first. I bit my lip, trying to hold back any sound. The third. The fourth. A steady rhythm followed.

“YOU TOOK HER—!! YOU—!! YOU—!!” Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t take anything. But if you touch her— if you hurt her—” His glow flared. A pulse rippled through the clearing. Jay stumbled back from the force. Alexander’s voice dropped into something feral: “—I will stop you.” Jay lunged. The First Strike Jay moved faster than anything human. He slammed into Alexander with enough force to throw him ten meters through the snow. Alexander hit the ground hard. Blood filled his mouth.

“Strike One.” “Strike Two.” Beckett had almost made the jackpot. The crowd erupted. My breath caught. My grip turned white-hot. He was leading me on, toying with me. I saw it in his grin. In the way he danced around the edges of my fury with ease. And I snapped. I lunged forward hard. No more patience. Just brute, burning force. Our blades clashed again and again. He stumbled . “Strike Two.” I panted, we were even now. My body burned. Sweat dripped down my jaw. He was so fast, his footwork exeptional and his blade struck fast like a cobra.

Chris exclaimed. “Hey, you gotta do whatever it takes to beat someone with a reputation like yours,” Heather said. “Shut up and let me read out the rules!” Francis yelled, walking to the edge of the arena in the middle of Chris and Heather. “This is a first strike match. If your opponent’s sword hits you, you are out. If your opponent is disabled, to prevent injury, you may end the match with a stop short. One more thing, no stabbing. Anything else is fair game.”