There She Was With The Blade In Her Hand Novels & Stories

She bawled like a head case, brandishing the small blade before my eyes and I just stood astutely measuring the minutes till she attacked again. She slashed the blade horizontally and in repeat, I kept jerking backwards as a response to her unrelenting demands. The battle was unmatched and finally the knife drew parallel to my cheek. My hand surged upwards and I caught her hold on it even before time could act. Suddenly, she had whopped the end, reeling it back, so that the sharp end of the blade now faced my vulnerable chest. Her skills were awe inspiring, and I couldn't help but wonder who she was.

She put her hand in her bag, getting hold of the object she had come with. And in slow motion, the television lights went off, crowding the place in darkness. Ixora's chest heaved with short, panicked breaths. She couldn't have a moment of peace in her life again without him appearing like a ghost. This time she was going to end him. She let her bag slide from her hand as the blade shone in the dark. A knife. "Show yourself, you coward!" she shouted, her voice getting drowned in the silent room. "Ixora."

The edge scraped across my palm. A sharp pain shot through my palm. Blood welled up fast, spilling over my fingers, but I didn't let go. I couldn't. I held her wrist tighter, forcing the blade away from her skin as red drops fell, one after another, hitting the ground with small, wet sounds. Her eyes went wide. Her breath stilled. She didn’t pull back or fight me. She just stared, shaken, confused, stunned that I stepped in. I yanked the blade out of her shaking fingers and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and dropped.

“Then kill me. I would rather die than betray my blood.” The stubborn bitch. I leaned closer, close enough for her to see the fury in my eyes. “I did not want to do this. But you leave me no choice.” From the box, I drew a blade, small but sharp, its edge catching the faint glow. Her eyes followed it, widening in horror. She shook her head, defiant even as fear seeped into her voice. “You wouldn’t…” But I would. And I did. With swift precision, I grabbed her hand, pressing it flat against the stone. She struggled, screamed, cursed me in every tongue she knew, but I was stronger. The blade pressed, sliced...

I raised my head slowly, meeting her gaze. "Better a mutt with a heart than a bitch with a leash on her pride." "What?!" She snapped. Her fist trembled by her side. I saw it before she acted. But I didn’t move. I let her scream. "You traitorous bastard!". I raised a brow at her and watched as she fumbled. Her hand went to her thigh, pulling out something she kept hidden. A blade. Not silver. No. Obsidian laced with wolfsbane. A rogue’s nightmare.

“That power… you really are—” “Shut up.” My voice came out low, almost a growl. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then she smiled. “Fine. Show me what you are.” She charged again. And I caught her blade with my bare hand — it burned through my skin, but I didn’t let go. My other hand drove my knife straight into her chest. Her eyes went wide. For a moment she looked almost shocked that I had held her blade with my bare hands but I didn’t have the luxury of another moment, I was already at my limit. Her face held that expression as she fell.

She is exceptionally fast and deft, dashing through their grip like it is only a game. Some way or another Ophelia makes it over to my side, a Swiss Armed Force Blade in her grasp. She gets my arm as fast as lightning, holding it to my throat. "Try not to move!" she yells, squeezing it towards my neck. A solitary globule of blood structures at the edge of the blade, trickling down it towards my chest.

Her words cut through me like a knife, a savage blade that tore my insides apart. "I know," I whispered, bowing my head in regret. "Just… stay, please. We can work this out. Together." I saw her hand tighten around the knife. She switched its direction away from me and pointed the metallic blade directly to her throat. Her eyes were firm with resolve. I froze in place. "Amber! No!" I screamed, helplessly. "You can't stop me!" she snapped, pressing the blade harder against her delicate skin. The kitchen filled with the sweet, fragrant scent of her blood and I saw a bead of it pool at the base of the knife blade.

She gasped and screamed in pain. The pain she felt was immense as the blade tore through her abdomen, going in and coming out the other end. Her eyes were wide, she looked down to her abdomen where the blade had gone into her and her hands came down to hold on to the blade, she looked up at Ryder’s face and saw that he had a surprise look on his face. Surprise, shock and regret. She groaned and leaned forward into him, causing him to snap back and he quickly pulled the blade out of her and then dissolving it into the dark mist it was formed from. He caught her in his arms.

Her fingers grazed the handle cautiously, and with a slight tug, she pulled it free. She turned slowly, the blade’s metallic gleam catching the dim light as she passed it from one hand to the other, testing its weight and her limits. Without hesitation, she returned to bed. The mattress dipped under her weight, but Vincenzo didn’t stir. Lying beside him, her breath short and rapid, she raised a trembling hand and pressed the blade against his throat.