Savage Lynel Sword Novels & Stories

Deliberating on this, he retrieved the Scarletsky Sword and initiated its practice. While the Scarletsky Sword appeared unremarkable at first, Severin ignited its flames during the process of accustoming himself to it. A luminous divine light merged with the sword, and the ensuing hum signaled the release of a formidable swordwill. The swordwill shot up to the sky, and the pressure was so strong that even a level four supreme saint like Severin was startled by the piercing pain on his skin.

Raven Steele was her masterpiece—clean background, tragic story, exactly the kind of person who could infiltrate a motorcycle club seeking revenge. The bar's door swung open, spilling amber light and the stench of whiskey and cigarettes onto the wet pavement. A man filled the doorway, his massive frame blocking most of the light. Even in shadow, there was no mistaking who he was: Jax Savage, president of the Savage Saints MC, the most feared motorcycle club in three states. Six-foot-four of muscle and menace, with hazel eyes that missed nothing and hands that had spilled more blood than most soldiers. "You lost, princess?" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, each syllable carrying the we

The door handle turned easily under my grip, unlocked despite Lyn's stated need for privacy, and I burst into the room with enough force to rattle the hinges. Lyn looked up at me from where he sat on the edge of his bed, startled by my sudden entrance. In his right hand, he held a scalpel - one of the surgical instruments from Lynn's medical supplies - and across his chest ran a fresh cut, maybe three inches long and deep enough to expose the muscle beneath. Even as I watched, the wound began to knit itself back together, his werewitch healing abilities working to repair the damage he'd deliberately inflicted. The scalpel clattered to the floor as Lyn dropped it, his eyes wide with something

How did they know we'd be here? *Lynn!* Vincent called through the link. *What do we do? They keep coming! This is not a normal attack.* Lynn groaned. *I don't kno-* Claws dug into Lynn's arms, and the wolf bore its fangs into her neck. "LYNN!" Vincent yelled when Lynn let out a scream. He ran to help her, but let out a pained howl when he was stabbed from behind with silver. He turned around and ripped the Werewolf's head off.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN * * A pin-drop silence follows. All the warriors stop cheering. The air cackles with danger emitting from the dominant Alpha. "I never wanted to mix my blood with a Savage's; I couldn't fuck a filthy thing; I killed her, so what? Was she related to you?" Aston's smug smirk vanishes when Lyrien suddenly stabs the sharp edge of the knife straight into his eye, earning a soul-shattering scream from Aston. Lyrien's lips sneered as though disgusted by this weakling Alpha who is starting to spew out curses at him

Leonel had a swallow-headed design curved blade in his hand, and he slashed it against Tyr’s Ormr Dagger. With a clanging sound, the curved blade in Leonel’s hand was directly cut into two by Tyr’s Ormr Dagger, and Leonel took two quick steps back. Tyr did not stop there; he held Blair in his arms and killed his way out of the ambush. He arrived before Shaun Yarn within a moment. Behind him, two Jade family cavalries were chasing after him. Yet, at that moment, Shaun had pulled out his sword. The broken sword might seem ordinary, but when it was wielded in Shaun’s hand, that sword exerted the power of a divine weapon.

Once I saw the Viscera Sisters, I would try to find a way to kill them. It was a terrible plan, but I had no time to think of another. I also had no time to tell Alkin, Sven, or Rosette where I was going. I would lose Salem’s trail if I delayed even a moment. As soon as Salem was out the door, I rushed to the armory and grabbed the sword I was most accustomed to practicing with. It was long, silver, and sharp. I found a belt with a scabbard, strapped it around my waist, and sheathed the blade. Then I ran outside and took to the skies.

He looked like a vulture. He kicked me hard in the ribs. Then placed his iron-shod boot directly on my throat. “Your kingdom is dead, Seraphina,” he sneered. “Your people are ashes. Your ‘king’ abandoned you. And now, the Lycan line ends in the mud.” He raised his silver sword. The blade caught the orange firelight. He didn’t even look me in the eye as he swung. Just as the sword fell, a deafening howl shook the entire valley.

I need my sword. Reaching behind my back, I feel the cool, smooth texture of my marking shift beneath my fingers. There’s a brief moment where the ink pulses, almost as if it’s alive, before it solidifies into the hilt of my sword. I draw it out, feeling the familiar weight settle into my hand. The blade hums with energy, a glowing blue that pulses in time with my heartbeat. This sword is mine, a part of me, born of my blood and soul. Athena’s gift, forged from my very essence.

I thought I could survive him. But no one survives Zane Wilde. Not untouched. Not unchanged. I was supposed to guard my heart. But love doesn’t follow rules. Now I’m left piecing together what’s left of me while he walks away untouched—like he never bled me dry. He left a ruin where my heart used to be. A story where silence should have been. And still… I’d choose him all over again. Because that’s the thing about savage love— It doesn’t ask for permission.