The Assassin's Blade Pdf Online Novels & Stories

She sighed before looking at the butcher's knife with blood dripping from it. She scoffed before sitting down in front of him. "You've been in prison since your failed attempt, of course, you wouldn't know if they planned anything new. However… surely you know who asked you to assassinate us." She took a powerful blow using the butcher's knife down to his hand. He screamed in pain as he frantically tried to leave but he was locked in place. All the other assassins in the room backed away from them. "Give me the name," she commanded with an ominous stare, ready to take another finger off.

I tapped his shoulder. He hesitated. “I just want to go play with something.” I said. He set me down and I limped over to the wall of knives and picked up a multicolored butterfly knife. I flipped it around, opening and closing it between my hands. “I need a new one of these. My old one is loose.” I flipped it closed and looked at Malachi, he was just staring at me in amazement. “What?” “I just forgot that you are a trained assassin. That’s all.”

He’s eyeing me up, his gaze stopping on each of my weapons but the glint in his eyes tells me he doesn’t think I’m a threat to him. “Just get on with it; I have places to be.” I bring my hands up and cock a finger as if beckoning him closer; the man bares his teeth and raises his left hand so he can try to slam a fist into my face. I drop to my knees just like he wanted; I grab my knife and in less than a heartbeat, I have it plunged between his ribs. A gurgling sound comes out of his mouth as warm blood flows over my hand and down my arm. I can feel it dripping off my elbow as I grit my teeth and put pressure on the knife to force him backwards. “Bit-ch.” His voice cracks as he grabs hold o

They’re really freaky. But that’s not the only downside of it. Just because he had surgery, it doesn’t mean his eyesight is that of a normal person. He describes his vision as something you see in a video game or an animated movie. He says it’s like a 3-D game. Don’t get me wrong, the guy is and will always be a badass. Before he became a Confradia Assassin, Priest was Navy Seal. He’s trained in various forms of combat and speaks several languages. Even when he was blind, he could kick ass. He still walks around with a walking stick and uses the thing as a weapon. He’s a serious legend in the Confradia. Not to mention that the man is a serious chick magnet.

The smiling faces of three people who were making a picture-perfect family. My eyes caught the attention of the identity card that had her details. Iris Ivanov. "Iris...." My tongue rolled out her name. "Iris Ivanov....." I mumbled her name again with glitter in my eyes. Didn't know why her name felt so unique to me. "Daughter of Yuri Ivanov, the renowned Assassin." Igor completed her identity and I couldn't stop myself from mumbling the next words. "Welcome to my hell, my dear Assassin's Daughter."

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

CONTENT WARNING The Assassin’s Portrait is a Dark Romance featuring heavy themes that are not for the faint of heart. This story is strictly for mature audiences (18+). THEMES: • PSEUDO-TABOO: A forbidden, obsessive step-sibling dynamic. • HARD EROTICA: Graphic sexual content, power play, and BDSM. • GRAPHIC VIOLENCE: Blood, gunplay, and dark criminal themes (Bratva). • MORALLY GRAY CHARACTERS: Obsessive, possessive, and dangerous behavior.

A blade gleamed silver black, quickly rushing for my throat. I rolled, fury and instinct taking over my body. The dagger kissed my cheek, sending fire across my skin, but missed my jugular by a whisper. “Kale!” I screamed, though I knew he was too weak to rise. The assassin snarled, mask glinting in the torchlight, his movements sharp and precise...trained, not a common rogue. His second strike came for my heart, but I caught his wrist, claws digging deep. Blood spilled, and still he pushed, eyes glowing faintly with a red I knew too well. Ritual blood.

A blade gleamed in the moonlight. The assassin pressed down harder, one hand over her mouth, the other raising the knife. Lyra's training kicked in. She bucked her hips, throwing the assassin off balance. Her hand shot up, catching the wrist holding the blade. She twisted hard. The assassin grunted. Male. Strong. He recovered fast, slamming his weight back down. The knife came closer to her throat. Lyra's wolf surged. She felt the shift starting. Bones cracking. Strength flooding her muscles.

“Your tattoos are beautiful.” I look at the tattoo of a skull surrounded by black flames. My whole right arm is decorated with tattoos from shoulder to wrist. My skin prickles with every caress of her fingers, but I don’t stop her from touching me. The tattoo sleeve has several tribal symbols, and there are a seal trident and a frogman tattoo on my shoulder. Each tattoo represents something in my life. The skull represents my status as an Assassin, and the cross is a play on my name. Her finger moves down the line of my intricate cross, then to the inside of my rib cage, where I have an inscription. Qui velit, ut vivat in aeternum.