Steel And Flesh Novels & Stories

Dorian stood there, dead in his tracks, mortified. The creature’s scaly hands grabbed the woman’s ass which was as firm as a beach-ball. One of its hands reached out and grabbed her long, silky hair, gripped it tightly and pulled it back while it continued to penetrate her with a methodical, rhythmic thrusting motion. It seemed as though this creature was on Viagra.

Pain bloomed white-hot as the pliers clamped tighter, steel teeth biting into my nailbed like a viper's strike. Rourke's ice-blue eyes gleamed with savage glee, his freckled face twisted grotesque under the swinging bulb, his scarred bulk looming like a meat grinder ready to churn. Zip-ties cut into my wrists, silk sheath torn and sweat-soaked against mahogany skin, athletic frame straining against the chair's rusted bite. Warehouse shadows danced feral, Hudson wind moaning through cracked walls, carrying the rot of forgotten slaughter.

The flames turned into jagged shards of orange glass that fell and shattered on the ground. "We can't get close, Emma!" Félix shouted, his daggers useless against the void. "It’s not a physical cold! It’s the Absence of Motion!" I looked at the Iron-Wolves of the South. They were standing at the edge of the plaza, their skin iridescent with the magnetized silver-iron of their new evolution. "Arthur! The Iron-Blood!" I cried. "Your marrow! It’s the only thing with enough density to resist the Zero!"

The reinforced steel door swung open, revealing the horrors lurking just beyond. They entered the dim, silent room with cautious steps, unsettled by Binge’s unusual quiet. The air itself felt hostile, thick with the metallic stink of blood and the nauseating reek of decaying limbs. Strewn about the floor were the scientists, each missing at least one limb, their torn flesh and viscera laid bare as they crawled, clinging to life by a thread of sheer will.

The moment I opened my eyes, I felt like I was reborn in new and more powerful body. I could feel the overflowing energy on my veins, the heat of fire around me, my soul aching for blood, and my every nerve screaming for death. Ren Lancaster's death. "You really look so much more beautiful when you are all on fire. Maybe I should marry you soon. What do you think, my queen?" I moved my hands in rhythm with the beating of my heart to form the phoenix attack.

, Hollywood had nothing on real life. Her stomach roiled at the sight. The shifter’s flesh trembled and took on the consistency of what looked like lumpy pudding as it bubbled, rippled, and moved to refit the shifter into a human shape. Muscles tensed and pushed against the liquid-looking skin. So much so that she could see when they snapped from its bones. Bones that snapped and jutted out in odd angles before they slid back into place with a grotesquely squashed sound.

He took a little drag and threw the rest on the floor, he stepped on it twisting his leg sideways to make sure it was properly quenched. "So, you now pay taxes and all that?" Tom said with amusement on his face. "Yeah, what can a man do to have peace" Tom trailed Steel as they walked back to the wall of guns, Steel turned a cupboard that was just beneath the wall, it had four openings two on the front and two on the back also,. He brought out an MD-850 pure steel. "Here we go" he said handing the gun to Tom, sniffing in very hard. Tom held the gun felt iy material, he had to know. a lot of gun to thrive in his kind of job.

Gideon Blackwell was a creature of kinetic violence. In his human skin, he couldn't stop the tremors in his hands, so he paced the six-foot length of the steel cage like the predator he was. Every few seconds, he slammed a shoulder into the reinforced door. The boom echoed through the concrete basement, a dull, hopeless sound. His right shoulder was a mess of torn muscle and sluggishly oozing blood, but he didn't feel it. Shifters healed fast, but the steel—the one material that could nullify his strength—kept the wound raw and stinging.

The transition from "Software" to "Hardware" was not a clean one. As Meilin and Elian stood on the deck of the Thorne-Vessel, the floor beneath them began to pulse. It wasn't metal anymore; it was Code-Flesh. The steel plates were translucent, showing a network of violet neural-fibers that were rapidly replacing the ship’s electrical wiring. "Leo, your hand," Meilin gasped, reaching for him.

"They only had one man to fight against their commander." Dr. Evans expressed disbelief by repeating his question after he began to shine a diagnostic light into Dante's unfocused golden eyes. "His ribs are completely pulverized. The healing factor struggles to repair the bone because his body suffered extreme blunt-force damage." Dante rasped Moon-steel is useless while his voice sounded like a painful groan. He reached out blindly until his bloody fingers found my hand. He gripped it with terrifying desperation. Maya... the sword bounced right off him. He had armor... made of solid bone, growing right out of his skin.