The One Who Shall Grip Novels & Stories

Fuck my life. After some minutes of slow climbing, trying to make sure I made no sound whatsoever, I reached the door. A hard feeling grew in my chest, was I ready to do this? Because one of us was going to die tonight and it was not going to be me. Gripping the dagger in my hand way more tightly, I crept in. There was a black figure sitting at the edge of the high rooftop. Staring into the horizon with no care in the world. No fear that he might fall.

I was only woken up by Giovanni’s tight grip. “Luna.” We were already facing the altar. My eyes slowly dropped to our hands colliding. His hand was gripping my hand so tight, it was already showing his veins. It was a grip meant to wake me up, to get me ready. “You have to listen to me. We have no time.” Our hands were clasped, a silent plea for connection in the face of impending doom. His grip was a lifeline, a desperate attempt to ground me. “You have to escape.”

He was growling as he did so, and his grip communicated his strength and his anger. The muscles in his arms stood out against his skin as he held me out over the edge by my throat. I felt the wind grab my skirts, and saw it lift the golden strands of his hair. My feet frantically sought purchase and I managed to plant my tiptoes on the very lip of stone.

He was going to reach my throat if I did not move in the next three seconds. His grip on my forearm was crushing and his teeth had found their range and his eyes were fixed on me with the locked empty focus of something that had been given a single instruction and intended to carry it out until it was finished. I stopped fighting the grip. I pulled him toward me instead.

A raw, animalistic hunger. “Let’s get started.” His hand shot out. It clamped around my wrist. His grip was bruising. He pulled me towards him. My body collided with his hard, shifting form. “Strip.”

A raw hold, ancient and sharp, turns my insides to water. Fingers come to rest at last. One cradles my cheek, slow circles drawn by his thumb where Beatrice left her mark - soft, softer than breath. Heat blooms under that touch, sharp next to my chill. The second hand finds its way beneath my hair, strands caught between his knuckles, damp and tangled. Stillness holds us. This isn’t about love. Like roots pulling soil together, his grip holds me close - bound not by choice but gravity. He acts as though I might drift away without that weight.

Filthy male. With a booming snarl that reverberates all around me, his right palm ascends at an indecipherable speed to clamp around my neck and choke me in a controlled yet delicate grip. He is warning me. I must be afraid, I must run for my life. But I will not do so. I will never leave his side again. I will meet his beastly passion, his unrelenting dominance head-on.

A smile made it's way to her lips and her stomach flipped as hope sprang in her heart. "Turn around." He ordered and Maris was placed on Linda's back again. The crickets chipped and owls hooted, making the place more creepier than it was. They stopped at another destination and the bushes snapped, followed by the thumping of feet. Suddenly, a well built man stepped out of the bush, a blue crown resting on his head and a staff in his hand. He was shirtless and had great biceps that would have had Maris drooling if the situation wasn't serious. His eyes were shut and Maris glanced below his waist–he had on a mini material covering his groin like some kind of panties with a familiar symbol.

I drove my elbow toward his ribs. He caught it, his fingers biting into my flesh. “There’s a spark,” he breathed, his face close, eyes alight with a cruel delight. “But a spark is not a fire.” He used his grip to hurl me sideways. I let myself fall, rolling through the dirt and coming up in a crouch. He was already there. He grabbed the front of my tunic, yanking me up. For a second, I was pinned against him, his scent of leather and cold power all around me.

"Seems like we're going to have a 5-star meal tonight." Primo, still not aware, felt someone gripped both his wrist and arm. He was terribly surprised to see two men gripping his arms. "W-what a-are you doing s-sir? Let me go!" he pleaded feeling his body tense. His voice quivering and his whole body trembling. "Shhh calm down sweetie..." Primo shivered and wriggled hoping he can escape but he was held by two strong guys. Then the guy in front came close to him and touch Primo's face softly.