Twisted Knife Blade Novels & Stories

I gripped the handle of the dagger and pulled up sharply, trying to block out the sound of ripping flesh. Reed stepped forward and tore off the bottom corner of his shirt, offering the material me so I could wrap it around the jagged blade. "What's that?" Ivan asked, peeking over my shoulder and pointing to the symbol on the handle. I squinted my eyes and brought the knife closer to my face for a better look. The ebony handle, five inches in length was forged metal, smooth and opaque. In the middle, were three small dots moving up the grip in a line.

He said with a fairly loud voice. Lawrence opened the door and went outside of the house.. looking at Somira again and blowing his last kiss for the night to her, before closing the door behind him. Just as he did, Somira returned to what she was preparing, and suddenly, her knife fell to the floor. "Ooooh!" She screamed aloud… Her knees hurt so badly as she bent down to pick the fallen knife. She tried to picture the exact place the pains were coming from, when she touched the very middle and she screamed out so loud again. It was the pains she sustained from the hot romantic session she enjoyed with Lawrence.

I could only gape at his theory. He captured both my wrists in one of his hands and bent to pick up the knife. He sliced through my bra and my nipples instantly hardened at the chilliness in the air. His eyes zeroed on them and he touched the tip of the knife to one of them and I instantly stilled. "So, so easy." He mused and only when the knife cluttered to the ground, I took a breath, but that was short lived as he twisted his hand in my hair and connected our mouths together.

, I said tapping the top of his nose with my finger. I turned to look at Scott and did not realize that the injured man on the floor had pulled out a knife. Well, not until he had to slice me with it. Right under my armpit. It stung a bit and I turned to look at him. He laughed wickedly at me and I hit him in the face in anger, knocking him out. "Son of a b*tch", I cursed as I placed my hand below my armpit. I looked at my hand and it was stained with blood. I just had to remove my suit from the car.

Too small. I look at the other weapons, well, more like knives. We have kitchen knife, cleaver knife, carving knife, santoku knife, paring knife, then tomato knife, then a fork. not your normal fancy fork, No, a two way fork. Lastly, my personal favourite, chain saw machine, all coated with silver, than touched with silver sulfide.

I leaned back against my seat, "It's not easy to take down two powerful men at a go all by yourself." "This person came prepared Orian." Nexus leaned over, "And this person is powerful. A murder carried out with a 3-bladed knife, you know what that means." What it meant was that even I was a suspect as well as Nexus and all the high-ranking officials not excluding members of the council. Three blades knife is meant to destroy and cause serious damage, a weapon only possessed by people like us and they were to be used only in the case of war.

The white-haired and white-browed young man had unsheathed his long sword. It was a strange long sword that was as clear as jade. One flank of the sword was the cutting edge, and the other flank was a sharp sawteeth-shaped edge. The blade was long and narrow, and it looked like a beam of silver light when it shook. Every time it shook, a beam of light shot out from it like a fierce tiger coming out of a box. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh!

Blayne and Duke suddenly realized the one that stood out. “My love, do not touch it.” The unusual chef's knife had a rosewood curved handle and was a little bit thinner than the other ones I had, which have rounded black pakkawood handles. Perhaps there was poisoning on the blades where it would infect the toucher. Who knows what that bastard was aiming for? “So he breaks in, does not bug the place, but he leaves a knife for Sianna to chop him up a nice bowl of salad for when he returns?” Duke joked with a pondering expression.

“Yes, although I've never seen a blade like this one.” “It looks like that because it's made of steel blended with hemlock ash and wolfsbane,” she explained. “You can touch the blade without fear, but be careful not to cut yourself. Even the shallowest cuts done by this dagger remain unhealed for a long time. The deeper cuts are quite lethal, even for the most powerful shifters.” When I stared at the dagger for more than several seconds, she leaned over and narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you sure you know how to use it?”

She walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and stared at the contents like they owed her an apology. Eggs. Tomatoes. Ground pork. Leftover rice. A half-used bottle of oyster sauce. “Okay,” she said aloud. “Let’s do this.” She tied on an apron, pulled out a pan, and started chopping like she was mad at the cutting board. Garlic? Minced with vengeance. Onions? Sliced like betrayal. She sautéed everything with fire — literally and emotionally. The smell of giniling filled the air. It was her therapy.