Phantom Lord Swatted Novels & Stories

As if being stupid enough to focus on everything except the hate I should have felt wasn't punishment enough, I swung my arm and slapped him across the face with every bit of strength I had. The crack echoed off the concrete. “Emma!” Anita cried, rushing forward as his men's eyes widened. “You're dead meat,” one of them said, reaching for his belt. He cursed under his breath before snarling, “Who the fuck do you think you are, bitch?” The rogue Lord raised a hand to stop him. He barely flinched like my palm had hit concrete. But his eyes tightened, the blue turning stormy as the mate bond vibrated between us from the hit. Pain spiked straight through my skin.

It’s the least thing that he could do for her. He’s seen her again earlier but didn’t show himself to her. Though he had left her a flower and a note of apology, he knows that it won’t do anything to patch things up. A painful grunt catches his attention and he broke out of his deep trance when Walsh lost his consciousness again. He had him strapped down on a mortuary bed and Damon barely realized that he was flaying a large chunk on his chest and that he had gone further than he was supposed to. He removed the epidermis’ most superficial layer by slicing it off like a deer’s hide.

Dressed in his suit, he already looked out of place here anyway. After slicing through some evil spirits, he calmly wiped his fingers, processing this new information with that same indifferent expression. All the evil spirits around him had been cooking up schemes. The moment they heard he was the Shadowlord, those plans went up in smoke. Landon looked at the Phantom Patrol who'd spoken, still absorbing what he'd just learned. "You better not be lying to me." The Phantom Patrol immediately replied, "I wouldn't dare! There's been activity over at Mournglow River all day. Usually, Lethe handles that area, and none of us dare get involved. But something was off.

The spectral form staggered, howling without sound. “Better,” Lucien called. “Now push it back.” Vera leapt forward, hurling the dream-silk whip. It wrapped around the phantom’s arm, coils gleaming with star­tide light. She tugged, yanking it off balance. The phantom crashed into the chamber wall, fracturing runes beneath the mortar. Her chest heaved; sweat dripped from her brow. “Your turn,” she panted. Lucien stepped into the plain. The phantom dissolved beneath his gaze, reforming as two snarling wolves flanking him. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, then unleashed his pulse.

“Bandit!” “Oh, sweetheart! Are you okay? Did that motherfucker touch you?” “No. He said his buyer wanted me untouched,” she said, and her whole body shuddered. “We got the bastard,” Bandit said, and she visibly relaxed against him. The door opened again and Nitro strode toward them. “Wrath, fuck man. We owe you.” “That’s Wrath?” Caroline asked incredulously. “You sent Wrath to find me?” “He’s the best at finding what others can’t,” Bandit said.

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i

Guards stumble, coughing, blades swinging at shadows. When the haze clears, he is gone—slipped through the chaos at the last breath, carried by the remnants of his army. Phantom’s blade cuts through empty air. His jaw tightens. “He slipped away. But not forever.” The captain staggers forward, blood streaking his cheek. “We almost had him, my lord. One more breath, one more strike…” Phantom’s eyes blaze. “Another breath will come. Another strike will fall. He cannot run forever. And when the smoke clears, he will face me.”

“Hmph, those three want to catch me. It looks like they are smart enough to find this place!” “It’s not that we are smart, but it was you who gave us the clue, Ember Lord!” The moment Ember Lord finished talking, Gerald’s voice rang in the room. Then, Gerald appeared in front of Ember Lord and the old man. “Gerald Crawford!” At the sight of Gerald, Ember Lord was enraged. He yelled angrily and charged toward Gerald, wanting to tear Gerald into pieces. Gerald reacted quickly and kicked Ember Lord away. Now, since Gerald was also a half-phantom, he was not afraid of Ember Lord at all. Everything had to come to an end today.

When Phantom Eye laid eyes on her, his entire body shuddered, like a small animal sensing its natural predator. Step by step, Shiloh walked toward him. Phantom Eye's bravado cracked as he flinched. His voice wavered as he stuttered, "H-Hey, crazy lady, what are you doing? I was just caught off guard before! If you've got the guts, wait until I'm fully healed, and then I'll—" She did not wait for him to finish, and two brutal slaps landed square on his face, sending his massive, two-hundred-pound frame flying. He hit the ground hard, kicking up dust, and his vision spun as he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

Lucas was a machine; avoiding and blocking everything Omar threw at him without any effort. Omar! Stop! Chloe finally managed to find her words. He's going to kill you! The distraction cost Omar. A split second was all Lucas needed to go on the offensive, sending Omar flying. The yelp gave away that Omar was injured by the impact with the ground but the sound snapped Chloe out of her shell-shock like a knock to the lungs. Before she could fully comprehend what she was doing, Chloe burst into a sprint, moving past Lucas was he stalked towards the injured wolf.