The Blackened Blade Book 3 Novels & Stories

His grey eyes were soft, and I saw the gold flecks in them, glowing faintly in the torchlight, evidence that the light had not left him entirely. I stood on the platform where Cassian and I had been mated, the Kingslayer in my hand. Its symbols were dark, the gold and silver light that had once blazed from the blade gone, spent in the tomb when I drove it into the king's heart, when I gave up the hybrid's power to save the world. But I could feel the power sleeping within them, waiting for the right moment to wake. The blade was not dead. It was only resting. Like the darkness. Like us. "Wolves of Blackwood," I said, my voice carrying across the hall, echoing off the stone walls. "Lycans of

Dante sneered, pulling a long, elegant sword from a sheath at his waist. The blade was made of dark black metal, pulsing with the same sickly green light as the hunting hounds. "This city belongs to the Council, Calista. Your father died because he forgot his place. Now it is your turn." He lunged again, the black sword sliced through the gray fog with a high-pitched whistle. I did not try to block the sword with my small knife. I used my doctor's brain, watching his feet. Just as the blade came down toward my neck, I dropped flat onto my stomach and let the black steel cut through the empty air above my hair.

she acknowledged after taking a short sip on the drink. “Stop distracting yourself and keep your eyes open.” The lady rolled her eyes at the statement. Hyde strolled over the counter and got himself a glass of whiskey, while Adeline set herself on the table in the corner where she could have a better perspective around the hall. “Agent Black, set.” He whispered after activating the earplug hidden in his ear. “Agent White, set.” In a short while, Adaline activated her device, too.

Then it vanished. “Very well,” he said. “Walk your path alone.” I nodded once, turned away, and took the first step without looking back, knowing that from this moment on, Blackcroft would test me without mercy, and that I had just dared it to try. I reached inward and summoned Darkill. The gold-and-azure blade answered instantly, appearing in my hand. I held it out, hilt first, then turned to him, my eyes unfocused. “You gave me this,” I said. “Take it back.”

I'm just about to drive my blade through Jonathon’s heart, finally, after all the blood and games, when movement flashes at the edge of my vision. Instinct takes over. I pivot mid-strike, blade skimming wide as I counter with my elbow, narrowly blocking the oncoming blow. The force behind it stings. He steps out of the shadows, tall, composed, his black hair slicked back like he walked out of an old portrait, but those eyes, those glowing red eyes, scream hunger, control, obsession.

“Yours isn’t.” The training yard went utterly silent around us. I pressed a hand flat against my own chest, half expecting to feel it there still, that thread of silver light, humming faint and stubborn under my ribs like it had never actually left. If the bond had survived his rejection, then whatever happened in that hall hadn’t been the ending anyone believed it was. ⸻ Hundreds of miles away, in a training arena that smelled of steel and old blood, Lucien Blackthorn watched a third sword shatter in his own grip.

HIS DARKEST SHADE BOOK-THREE ~Prologue~ “Even if you end up hating me for it.” His tone was vicious. “I might scare you,” he continued, his gaze roaming over her trembling form, “but they are far worse—formidable, vicious… and willing to do whatever it takes to get what they want.” He gestured toward her. “Including you.” “Never.” She shook her head, her voice trembling but firm. “I’m not scared of your words. You’re just trying to scare me so I’ll listen to you!”

To Pride. First Blood. Another one. Creek’s smile dies. “Four?” He looks at me. At Cove. At Ash. At Pride. “Mother’s greedy.” “Mother’s done,” I say. I pull the bone knife. No more talking. I throw it. Not at Creek. At the ground between us. It hits. Sticks. And the gold vines change. They go from the knife. Out. Like a web. They touch every Blackmire wolf. Every Redfang. Every Duskbane.

Now, only power spoke. Gloria knelt first, laying a talon-shaped blade across her knees. Its hilt was carved from bone that pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a heartbeat echoing through the ground. The air grew colder around her, coiling like serpents, and her lips moved without sound. The frost crawling along her skin wasn’t entirely natural; it was the blade calling to her, the spirits whispering their obedience.

So I think we can move from there to a deeper feeling. Christina, the one and only lady of my heart, I know as well that your heart beat faster when you were with me. I'm a vampire, I have acute senses, so you can't hide something like that from me. If this is not a sign that you have at least similar feelings towards me, then you can stab a stake straight into my heart, cut off my head and burn my body to ashes so that I will never rise again. Because if I can't love and adore you for eternity, my life will be completely meaningless. I have been alone for so long that for me rejection equals death. Forgive me for writing such things, and if it sounds like blackmail, but I write everything h