Pretty Knife Novels & Stories

If I struck too soon, his allies would descend like wolves. And I wasn’t ready for that. Keiran reached into his coat and pulled something out. A knife. Its blade was sharp, polished steel glinting under the moonlight. He flipped it in his hand before offering it to me, hilt first. “Use this,” he said. “When the time comes.” I took it without hesitation, feeling the weight of it in my palm. It was smaller than the weapons I trained with, but the edge was deadly. A quick, clean kill.

Not to me, anyway. It made slipping into the kitchen far too easy. I moved quickly, silently, eyes darting between shadows and exits. My fingers closed around the handle of the biggest knife I could find, sleek, sharp, and cold against my skin. I slid it under my clothes, securing it tight to my side, and walked out like nothing had happened.

The kind that worked on humans but I felt him resisting it. He laughed. “Your little wolfie tricks don’t work on me Max Moon.” He took out a knife from his side pocket and I saw that it glinted silver in the light. It was made out of pure silver. He tossed the knife and caught it. I saw that the handle was encrusted with jewels and there was an insignia on it. I tried to see the insignia but my vision kept blurring out and then refocusing. I was losing a lot of blood and my accelerated healing wasn’t kicking in yet.

I furrowed my eyebrows. Why did Jasper suddenly think I needed to learn how to throw knives? And why wasn’t he teaching me that himself? Why ask Nymeria instead? This made no sense. But I went near the knives and picked one up. It was a short knife with a wooden hilt and a small, pointed blade. It weighed next to nothing so would fly through the air if used at a good speed. I played with it in my fingers and stood in front of the target. “You want me to hit the bullseye, I guess”

I hold the knife up to show her, “Silver. It hurts our kind.” I make a shallow cut on my palm as her wide night-colored eyes watch and I hiss as the blood bubbles where the silver has touched. It hurts like hell, like the bite of a swarm of fire ants. I hold up my sizzling palm for her to get a better look. “See,” I say through gritted teeth, “It works much better than the little knife you got there. You can have it.”

a trader he worked in an abbatore and sell meat to meat lovers, he was the biggest boy in the trade, he was popular for the business and many were his customers, few days after he returned from the party, people had he was back at business and had came to patronise him, he had many staffs that worked with him and had a big knife he used in making deferent sizes of meats, so that people can purchase according to their financial strength, by one morning he could not locate where his favorite knife was and had searched everywhere for it but could not see it, and when the cue was getting longer he asked his workers to get him any sharp knife that he may help with the cutting, his boy brought a

BLADE 2. He forced his tongue into my mouth and pinned my two hands roughly on the bed. He doesn't allow me move. I wiggled my body but he ended up hitting my boobs with his palm. The pain sent the wrong sensation down my pussy. It throbbed shamelessly. He stopped kissing me and before I knew it, I landed a slap on his cheek which I regret doing. His demeanor changed instantly. I presume it didn't sit well with him.

I said getting off her. "For today you were saved, so come" I said and took her by the arm to sit her down but she wouldn't stop struggling, I was getting fed up, so as I could I grabbed both her hands with one of mine and showed her my knife so she would understand that she should stay calm. "If you don't want me to cut that pretty little face of yours, stay still" I threatened and she stayed still at last and I put some handcuffs I had brought with me.

“Sit down.” “Penelope, he’s—” “Sit down,” I repeat, my eyes locking onto Khalani’s greasy forehead. “Did you walk across the floor just to bark, Khalani? Because the noise is giving me a headache.” “Not just to talk,” Khalani says. His hand moves to his leather belt. There is a sharp, metallic click. A heavy, jagged hunting knife drops onto the table, the moonstone blade driving two inches deep into the wood. The silver-white edge gleams under the blue neon lights of the bar.

Not that I had seen, anyway. As if reading my mind, Andrei pulled the knife in question out of the sheath at his hip and held it up for us both to look at it. The silver blade caught the moonlight, the ruby embedded in the hilt almost seeming to absorb it. “Pretty,” I said, digging through the first aid kit for some butterfly bandages. “Must have stolen it off a rich person.” Andrei shot me a look. “Let’s hope the original owner is still alive.”