Tastes Like War Novels & Stories

said he, low and rough around the edges. I blinked, caught off guard. "Yes, and you are?" He gave a small, humorless smile. "Just someone who admires your work. I've followed your art for years. Controversial stuff. Lust. Desire. Sin. You paint what people are too afraid to say." There was something about the way he spoke that always seemed to tighten my chest. He was not flattering me; he was confessing. "Thanks," I muttered as I finished yet another drink.

She rose, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the city’s fires shimmered like a thousand crimson eyes. Below, Valenfort prepared for yet another war where humans, vampires, and everything in between would soon redefine what it meant to call something peace.

" I grumbled while passing the champagne flute to my twin brothers, Aaron and Ivan. "Hope." Ivan grinned in answer to me and tried the champagne. "No sparkling wine can compete with champagne." Devouring the taste of the fine beverage, he was relaxed. "What's the new taste?" Aaron said, lost in thought and I noticed that he was looking at Chase. "What do you think of Whitfield?" I asked, tasting some delicious champagne. Ummm!!!! It tasted heaven. Ivan was correct. Nothing tastes better than champagne. "They are pretenders." Roy interrupted.

Keeping my eyes connected with her. The second I taste her on my tongue. I know I am going to be waiting to slide home so I can taste her from the source. I normally have no interest in going down on women, I don't enjoy it. But with her I want to so, I can drink down the best fucking thing to ever grace my lips. She is sweet with a slight bit of saltiness to her. Like salted caramel. Yes, that is exactly what she tastes like. I groan and fight to keep my eyes from leaving her to roll into my head. After I have licked them clean of every drop.

Lexi felt a shiver run down her spine as their eyes met, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, the noise of the party fading into the background. Then, without breaking eye contact, the mysterious stranger smiled and raised his glass in a silent toast. Lexi felt her cheeks flush as she smiled back, feeling a spark of electricity that seemed to arc between them like a live wire. As the night wore on, Lexi found herself drawn to the stranger again and again, their conversations flowing easily as they talked about art, music, and life. She learned that his name was Julian Blackwood, and that he was the host of the gala, as well as a renowned art collector.

"But I have to warn you though. It may or may not taste like poison." "Don't worry, poison is my favourite flavour and I'm sure it'll be nice as long as you made it." Oh, well see!

She gasped—then her eyes sparkled with bloodthirsty joy. "Yes! Finally! A war! I've been craving to spill some blood!" She punched the air. "This is amazing—I'm pumped." I shook my head, smiling despite myself. Theo entered quietly. He didn't smile often, but I could see it in his eyes—he was pleased. "You're happy," I said. "I'm not happy," he replied immediately. "I'm excited. War isn't 'great,' my queen—it's awesome. The feeling of blood, the thrill of killing enemies, the terror in their eyes—"

“No, Cupcake I can’t. What does it taste like?” “Anger tastes hot, jealousy and fear taste bitter like lemons, happiness tastes sweet like cake.” I tried to explain it to them. “It’s not like a mouthful of taste. It is something that I can ever-so-slightly taste on the tip of my tongue, or the back of my throat. It took me awhile to figure it out. I don’t know if I’m explaining it right, but I know what I’m trying to say.” Dante chuckled, “Interesting. If there is one thing you are, it is full of surprises.”

(Aria’s PO‍V) The wo‌rld tastes like smoke. ‍Every breath burns, every blink brings a flood of ash and lig⁠ht. For a mo⁠ment, I don’t even know if I’m alive. My ears r⁠i‌ng‍ lik⁠e shatt‍ered glass, a‍nd‍ the air trembles with the ghost of the explosion.

*Tjeck* KC and I hang back as our groups clash with Zombie's men. There's no reason for us to be at the frontlines, risking ourselves too soon. We are worth more standing back and organising. Suddenly, I'm yanked three years back in time. The sounds, the smells, and the palpable fear are hauntingly familiar. Yells, howls, gunshots, and blood-curdling screams blend together, creating the chaotic symphony of war. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils, and I realize that unless I immerse myself in the battle, I might just lose my sanity.