Pretty Knife Novels & Stories

She pulled her hand out of the leather bag, and the bright fluorescent lights caught the gleam of a long, sharp object. My breath caught in my throat, and I felt the blood drain rapidly from my face as I stared at the lethal weapon. Sienna held a heavy silver knife, and the thick, polished blade looked incredibly sharp and out of place in her perfectly manicured hand. "Where did you get that?" I gasped, my mind struggling to process the immediate, mortal danger. "Silver is the only thing that can leave a lasting scar on our kind, but it works just as well on fragile human skin," she explained, twisting the handle so the blade caught the light again.

I trailed a finger down the gun. "They are sometimes too quick. Too quick for some certain bastards and that one in there is one of those bastards." I moved my fingers to the knife instead. "And the good thing about knives? They can be very well slowed down and good thing I know all the parts to stab in a human to make them cry but not die. Definitely not going to let that bastard off easily." I grabbed the knife and flipped it in my hand, walking towards the door. Finn and my other men walked after me and the moment I walked into the small, shoddy office, two pairs of eyes turned to face me.

I blinked, trying to see what was happening, and Kral had already made several bloody holes in Nick. Kral's black shirt was stained with blood, and the knuckles on his knife hand bulged. Each time he made a cut, it was precise and quick, and there was not a trace of hesitation or emotion in his movements. A dull thump rang out, turning the white hilt of his knife red.

They were cold against my palms, the weight grounding me. I moved to the weapons rack. A row of knives and blades. Batons lined the wall. My hand hovered, then settled on a serrated knife with a silver edge. The blade was long enough to cut through enhanced skin if it had to. I tested its balance. I flipped it in my hand. I felt the pull of gravity against it. Perfect.

“Breathe babe. You got it?” My fingertips brushed leather. Boot. I hooked two fingers under the cuff, tugged. The knife was tucked in the inner side pocket…small, folding, serrated edge. I got it. The blade slid free with a soft click. We both let out the same relieved breath. “Yes,” Agnes hissed. “You beautiful, brilliant and smart bitch.” “Shh,” I snapped. “Keep your mouth shut. We don’t want to draw attention.” She went quiet instantly.

His eyes wandered to the pen knife that his brother was holding. “Is that the weapon you brought?” “Yes,” Zayn lowered his eyes to the thing in between his fingers and explained, “This pen knife was made out of silver and dipped in Growsbane. You should know that it is more than enough to take away your life if I desire it.”

"So, is that criminal also good at using knives?" "Didn't he attack your future husband with a knife before?" Sharp Knife replied, successfully making the girl's throat narrower. After seeing Mia swallow with difficulty, only then did he bring out the friendliness at the corners of his lips. “But, his abilities are way below mine. That Fool relies solely on strength, while his agility, tactics, and strategy are immature. "So, are you able to beat him?" Mia asked with eyes colored with hope. While raising an eyebrow, Sharp Knife nodded. "Of course. What makes you doubt?”

Suddenly, Owen went pale as a ghost. He didn’t even see how Kira's hand moved. By the time he realized what was happening, there was a knife in his throat! A butterfly knife, one of the most infamous weapons out there, was sneaky and lethal. With a swift flick of the fingers, it could deliver a dangerous and wickedly cool effect. A girl brandishing something like that at him like it was nothing? That’s cold-blooded and ruthless! “Back off, Owen.” Kira squinted slightly, the gleaming blade of the knife lightly tapping his cheek, “Even if every other man in the world disappeared, I still wouldn’t choose you.”

I thought yesterday was bad. I was wrong. Today, Kael handed me a knife. Not wooden. Not blunt. Real steel. Cold, heavy, and sharp enough to make my stomach twist. “Rule one,” he said, flipping the knife in his hand like it weighed nothing. “Never pick it up unless you’re ready to use it.” I stared at the blade. “I’m not ready.” “Good,” Kael said. “Because you’re not supposed to be yet.

He smirks at me as he grips it, flipping it in the air as I watch. My heart races and my pussy clenches as I imagine him using it on me the way I used it on myself, the way I like…so fucking deadly and hard. Leaning down with it, he drags the flat edge between my bare breasts to my belly button. He turns it, pressing the sharp end there until I stop breathing so I don’t cut myself. “You want to be fucked raw? You’ve got it,” he snarls, then turns the knife and drags the sharp edge back up the valley between my breasts, lightly enough not to cut but hard enough to leave a stinging pink line that has my head dropping back as I thrust my neglected chest at him.