Romantic Warrior Needles Novels & Stories

He slid his finder into the disfigured round key-holder and continued to walk towards the restaurant. As Williams walked towards the door Gwenevere joined him on the aisle that led people in. Suddenly, the door came open and three little children ran out heading towards Williams and Gwenevere. Not seeing the two adults approaching them, they crashed into them and caused a messy collision. Williams and Gwenevere clashed into each other and in his bid to keep his stance, the pointy head of his key holder hooked her skirt. As he moved, it pulled her skirt and in a split second, ripped it in two. With a sharp intake of oxygen, Gwenevere froze and raised her head up.

The guard looked at the other waiting for approval until a voice boomed out. “Do not let her in. She’s wearing the royal uniform of the Castle from Caldorus.” My eyes widened in surprise. So they were not the idiots I hoped for them to be. Alright. So I knew they were going to attack me and so, I knew it was time for me to put my fighting skills to the test. I went closer to the first one and grabbed his gun right out of his hands. I knew he was not expecting that and so, I took advantage of that.

Her skill was called Serenity, but the weapons she used were unusual—they were embroidery needles. With a wave of the hand, she sent needles flying. The threads attached to the end of the needles weren’t ordinary. Silver in color and as fine as vellus hair, they were likely silk. After that, the orange wind blades reappeared. The tough silk was burned by the blades. Even the needles melted. Besides that, the blades seemed to be spiritual. After they destroyed the weapons, they headed out of the tunnel and targeted Claudia. Numerous wind blades dashed across the air, rattling against one another loudly. The bright flames slashed the sky open as if they could destroy everything in the world.

It was gentle, so gentle it was barely even there, like a whisper across my skin, and yet it had wrapped around me entirely. Even now, standing in front of the fire, I could almost still feel it. It wasn’t there anymore, not really, but I could feel its lingering effects buzzing beneath my skin like thousands of tiny fireflies. I never wanted to let it go. I glanced over at Nicholas, who was standing a ways away, smiling and laughing in that easy way of his as he chatted with the warrior who had taken down the stag. The warrior was large and muscular, with dark hair pulled back into a bun and a dark spiral tattoo running up his neck and the underside of his jaw. He had a stunning blonde woma

Roman had gone visitation last night and won't be coming soon. For some reason my handmaid wasn't around and I was left with enough time to kill. The moment I stepped into the woods, they came rushing and I prepared myself, I sent my spear flying and watched it hit the head of a rogue wolf. I took off running to pick the spear and stabbing two at once. Their wolfing screamed made me satisfied and gave me the wheel to do more, killing more as they came rushing to me. It was the nature of a rogue wolf to kill, I didn't pity them anymore, rogue wolves are known for killing Innocent wolves for fun.

Cassian’s POV The air in the courtyard was thick with the scent of salt, wet fur, and the metallic tang of anticipation. Forty warriors, the absolute elite of the four primary packs, stood in perfect, silent formation. They were not armed with the heavy steel of traditional warfare. Instead, they carried obsidian blades and silver-tipped spears: weapons designed by Leo and Julian to disrupt magical frequency rather than just cut through flesh. They were silent, their eyes fixed on Winnie and me with a devotion that was as humbling as it was terrifying.

“I’m coming.” The room smelled of poisoned steel and sweat. The warriors stood tall, their eyes sharp with determination, their bodies poised for war. Swords lined the racks, their silver gleam catching the torches’ flickering light. Rows of bows, their strings taut, stood beside quivers filled with silver-tipped arrows. Clawed gauntlets, designed for close combat, rested in open chests, their sharp edges gleaming with deadly promise. The scent of oil and iron filled my lungs, grounding me in the brutal reality of what was to come.

The "Artisans’ Guild" did not ride out of the Black Ridge with banners of silk or the gentle songs of weavers. They rode with the heavy, rhythmic thud of war-wolves. The knitting needles they carried were no longer bamboo; they were sharpened, cold-forged steel, etched with the binding runes Elara had painstakingly carved during the sleepless nights that followed the revelation. They were no longer "knitters." They were the Thread-Burners.

Five people to sneak into the heart of the enemy. They gathered in a smaller cave that served as an armory. It wasn't filled with swords and shields, but with tools of subtle war. Ronan traded his crystal-tipped spear for a wicked-looking knife made of black, volcanic glass, its edge so sharp it seemed to cut the light. He checked the tension of a powerful, compact crossbow, its bolts tipped with a paralytic toxin derived from a desert scorpion.

Ryle calmly asked, raising her brow. “Who are you to question?” Bruce growled. He’s one of our more traditional males who believes that women aren’t made to fight. They are made to be seen and not heard. Ryker bristled at Bruce’s comment. “My name is Ryker RedFang and she,” he pointed to his sister, “is my sister, Ryle RedFang and we are RedFang Defense, your Elite warrior trainers and my sister is your future Luna.” he smirked.