Sinister Blade Novels & Stories

The blade I used had already been coated with Sierra’s signature scent, taken from the fabric one of my spies stole from her guest chambers during the summit. He collapsed, gasping, his blood spreading across the marble floor. “Forgive me,” I whispered, watching life leave his eyes. When his body stilled, I cleaned the blade and placed a leather scrap near his hand. Burnt edges. Claw marks. A perfect match to a rogue seal. A perfect match to Sierra. I returned to my chamber where I sat before the gold-rimmed mirror, brushing my hair. Not a single tremor betrayed the truth, that ten minutes earlier, I had slit Elder Tarek’s throat.

“When she was quite assured, I had completed my trainings, she send me to the quest to find her the ingredients of her means of destruction. I was blinded with rage and revenge, I was finally ging to get my revenge. I slaughtered innocents, whoever comes in front of me and my target.” “I give her what she asked for and she made me the blade. The weapon which could kill the alphas.” My heart beats faster. I saw the vison where Hecate give her the blade. But as he told me earlier, the power of blade requires sacrifice to work in its full potential. With the blade you don’t only kill an alpha but signs the death of an entire pack with him. “But…” he smiled and stopped me mid-way with his kiss.

Black handle, black blade, and engraved along the spine, clean and precise, S. I hold it up and examine it. "This is my name," I say. He stares at me. "This is literally my name. It says S. S for Sadism. I'm the Grim Reaper." I turn the blade in the light. "This is clearly mine. Where's the phone?" "My brother has it." Through his teeth. "He took it. I don't have it. Stop. Touching." Each word arriving separately, with effort. "My. Tail." He makes a sound that is half fury and half something he's trying to keep below the surface, and his tail catches my wrist on the backswing.

44. Sinful I don’t know when I slept but I woke up by 3:00am; I was exhausted and hungry, I felt weak to my bones like I was about to faint. I struggled to push myself out of bed and when I did, I saw a tray of covered dishes on the bedside table, and a note that read: Just rest A

I chipped in the update. “Two idiot friends always amalgamating the most stupid ideas” “So what do you think of it?” I was immune to her insults already. Anyone that still gets offended by it is yet to understand that harshness was Hilra’s mother tongue. She thought for a moment and turned to the door when it sounded like someone was walking past. “According to Anthonier, the blade is still with her?” “Yes. I believe it is safest in her room. No one would believe I’d leave a blade that could end me in the hands of a mistress who had barely stayed a full week”

Even still, the pain was fading, replaced by a deep ache she knew wouldn’t leave anytime soon, but she had faced worse. Jamie handed her the blade, before leaving to return to Lewis’ side. The Beta was stressed, Luna Eleanor’s quiet knocks replaced by the harsh raps of warriors, who only seemed to be holding back in their leader’s presence. Inga fingered the blade, its edge sharp, its metal singeing her fingertips, but it was the fine residue on it that made her pause. She rolled it between thumb and forefinger, watching the way her skin continued to sizzle long after it had left the blade. The knife was coated in the power, sending small particles of silver directly into her bloodstream the

Its hilt glowed faintly violet, and the air around it rippled with suppressed violence. “What is that?” Marisella asked, her voice low. “The Sigil Blade,” the Seer answered. “A weapon tied to her bloodline. Hidden until the echoes resurfaced.” Eryx cursed under his breath. “If that’s here, we’re in more trouble than I thought.” The pendant pulsed again, stronger, and Marisella felt her knees weaken. The air became heavy, pressing down on her shoulders. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled—not overhead, but below, as if the underworld itself had shifted.

Inside the box is a knife laid on black velvety material. The Omega goes to pick it up but realizes the top isn't attached to the base, so it comes right off. The handle of the blade is black with carvings on it. The blade looks sharp, with old, dried blood near the tip. Aiden touches it and hisses as he jerks his hand back. He brings his finger to his mouth and sucks on it, trying to ease the burn. Silver… ‘Why would the Alpha have a silver blade?’ Aiden wondered as he set the blade back on the base and placed the clear cover over it again.

ALEXANDER My father and sister were both pretty fucked-up, but, damn, Blake was sick. Because we had to make do with what was available in the casino, which wasn’t much, Blake had a bunch of his warriors holding the members of the Bois Sombre Pack down while he tortured them. They were both fully naked after being forced into their human forms. Chef’s knives were brought in from the kitchen, and Blake tested each one of them out on the men’s torsos until he figured out which one was the sharpest, their ensuing screams widening his smile, his eyes gleaming.

Things were done differently here. Saint stepped forward, and his Gamma handed him a ceremonial blade, silver-edged, etched with runes that shimmered faintly under the moonlight. Without hesitation, Saint turned his palm upward and dragged the blade across it. The sound of wet flesh splitting made me flinch. Dark and thick blood welled instantly, glinting red-black under the light. The witch held up a silver bowl, and Saint’s blood dripped into it. The smell of iron, smoke, and something electric underneath it filled my lungs and burned the back of my throat.