Vash X Knives Novels & Stories

He was not able to find anything strange about the cutlery. Blayne peered over Sianna’s shoulder. He, too, arched his brow in curiosity. “Vance, did you find something?” “All knives in my home are either German or Japanese classic knives that are ordered in sets,” I informed them, “Surely you can see that there’s one that does not match the rest of the knives.” “Oh,” Sianna reached in to remove the knife but I quickly snatched her hand. Looking at her and shaking my head. Blayne and Duke suddenly realized the one that stood out.

Vlad hissed, his eyes blazing. He turned toward the small leather bag one of the guards had left on the floor before their departure. He uncinched the strap, revealing a selection of specialized, sharp instruments. Vlad pulled out a long, wicked-looking knife, the blade gleaming faintly in the poor light, and began to walk slowly back to Leonardo. The Taunt

​But my attention kept being drawn to my right. ​General Vesh was a force of nature. He didn't just hold the line; he dominated it. He moved with a terrifying, fluid grace that seemed impossible for someone wearing heavy plate armor. His twin swords were a blur of violet light, carving through the vampire ranks like scythes through dry wheat. ​A Feral lunged at Vesh’s blind spot. Without looking, Vesh spun his blade backward, impaling the creature, then used the momentum to throw the turning body into three other attackers, knocking them down.

These rifles were more than mere tools; they were a blend of artistry and functionality. Simon stopped beside a display of knives, their blades gleaming under the warehouse lights. Drake's eyes were drawn to the array of shapes and sizes—daggers, combat knives, and tactical blades. Each one seemed to possess a distinct personality, a weapon of choice for various situations. The knives were sharp, their edges reflecting the harsh realities they were meant to face. "Precision and skill," Simon murmured, his voice carrying a sense of respect for these deadly instruments. Drake's fingers brushed against the handle of a knife, feeling the weight and balance. The blade's edge was razor-sharp, a te

I gasped involuntarily, but kept quiet otherwise. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to tell Xavier how strong the current I could feel flowing through him was, or if I wanted to avoid provoking him any further. "You don't need them…" "These are weapons," Xavier spat out, tossing the knife into the air and catching it again, "and you've used those against the other vampires or in bad werewolves, haven't you?" He narrowed his eyes, glaring daggers at me. He was already shaking visibly, but I thought his pupils were dilated enough that it would be noticeable even by my light mage eyes.

Just as quickly, she threw another, and another, and another, and another…and smiled at the end result. As Onyx walked into the kitchen in search of Tasha he came to an abrupt halt at the sight he found. There was Sansa, plastered against the wall with five knives stabbing into the wall and framing her body. And Tasha…well, she was smiling cheerily and somewhat sweetly. “What’s going on?” he asked dubiously. His mate shrugged, still the image of innocence. “I was just showing Sansa my knife trick,” Tasha told him, pulling knives from the wall. “Cool, huh?”

"Do you know how much effort I put into getting close to you? I learned yoga, which you enjoy, ate at your favorite restaurants, learned all your preferences, pretended to have common interests with you, and gradually became your most trusted friend! "Do you know how disgusted I felt watching you and Shane being so lovey-dovey in front of me? All I think about every day is how to kill you to vent my burning hatred! I'm going to turn you into a yoga mannequin, so you'll be stuck in a torturous pose for eternity!" With that, she pulled a gleaming curved knife from her yoga bag. "This is a knife I specially sourced from Tashor. It's specifically used to skin people. Apparently, the skins peeled

And neither had I. Another man rushed me with a blade, and I sidestepped, kicking his knee out from under him. He stumbled, and I slit his throat before he could regain balance. Across the hall, Vasquez had already cut down three men. Blood stained his crisp suit, but he barely looked winded. Alden, meanwhile, moved with effortless brutality. He didn’t waste energy. Every motion was calculated, efficient bone-breaking strikes, knives plunged where they would do the most damage. He wasn’t fighting to survive. He was fighting to send a message.

BLADE 3. Pain. It was all I felt when I shot my eyes opened. I felt so sore and tired. The memories of how Lorenzo plunged deeper into me last night filled my mind. He was so cruel to me. I didn't find any enjoyment in it at all. I tried lifting my hands and I was happy It was back to functioning. My tit hurts too as a result of the sucking he did last night.

Bone cracked under his punch, then again when the knife sank deep. A third Fang stepped into the alley with a gun. Ashley froze. Jax didn’t. He hurled his knife, the blade sinking into the man’s throat before the gun could rise. She stumbled back, chest heaving, arm throbbing where it had been twisted. Jax stood in the middle of it all, blood dripping from his knife. He turned to her, and for a while, she froze. Because he didn’t look like her rescuer. He looked like death itself, wearing the cut of the Vipers.