Your Words Cut Deep Deeper Than Any Blade Novels & Stories

Blood darkens his fur. He doesn’t make a sound. The cut doesn’t slow him. I duck under a snapping jaw and roll, coming up on one knee with my second blade already up. I strike again. Deeper. Cleaner. This is familiar. The burn in my arms. The narrowing of my vision. The way the rest of the world drops out when my body remembers what it’s for.

It was a carving knife. Thin. Precise. Sadistic. “Today, we carve obedience,” he said, smiling. The blade touched my thigh. Cold. And then he dragged it slow. I screamed. Not because it was deep—it wasn’t. But it was deliberate. Slow enough for every cell in my body to feel the slice, the insult, the degradation. Blood welled up immediately, trickling in warm lines down my leg as he traced every fucking letter. W. H. O. R.

he spat, leaning closer, the edge of his blade pressing into my neck, “you think he’s some kind of saint. A hero who’s going to swoop in and save you from your pathetic little situation. Why? Because he fucked you? Is that it? You think that because he touched you, you’re all he thinks about? That he’d risk everything—his life, his men—for someone like you?” His words were cruel and unrelenting, designed to break me piece by piece. He pushed the blade harder against my neck, forcing me back until I fell onto the bed. My head hit the mattress, and I gasped, my hands instinctively gripping the sheets beneath me. “Stop,” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper. The tears I had been fighting b

With someone else. The knife twisted, deeper and deeper, until all I could feel was the searing, blinding pain.

Gutting. There's no answer in sight As his soul is stripped bare. Those blips of consciousness Catch me completely unaware. A wind through the weeds... And we all bleed. Tears stung my eyes as she hit a crescendo, let the note hang, stilling her fingers. A pain no one sees. To home, I will lead. And we all bleed. Oh, how I bleed.

He wanted to retort but was at a loss for words, his expression showing a hint of panic. Because everything Austin said was true! "Did you really think I was that foolish? No one uses me to climb the ranks!" Austin's voice was cold, his presence imposing, his gaze sharp as a sword. "If you're so loyal, come here, and I'll cut you. Let's settle this today! Otherwise, let's bet—let's see if my blade is faster than your bullet!" Clang! The long sword was raised, slicing through the air. Under the sunlight, the blade's edge reflected a blinding, cold light.

The words slithered their way into my mind, sinking hooks into my head and staying rooted. Fire raced through my blood, heating every inch of my skin like his touch was gasoline and those muttered words were the strike of the match. He pulled out the knife embedded deep within his body and said, “Mine.”

His words… his cruel, vicious words… cutting through me, tearing me apart. Curse. Bad omen. Worthless. The words echoed in my head, over and over, each one sinking deeper, stabbing into my heart, leaving behind a hollow, aching emptiness. I felt a choked sob rise up in my throat, my chest tightening, my body trembling. I tried to hold it back, tried to swallow it down, but it broke free, bursting out of me in a shaky, broken gasp. Blaze’s eyes widened, his body freezing. “Faith?”

's face when he thought no one was watching. The second went over my heart. The blade parted my flesh like it was water, precise and surgical, and behind it came fire that spread through my chest like wings. My knees buckled, but I remained upright through sheer will. He whispered something in an ancient tongue as he carved something not meant for the living, words that tasted of endings and transformation. Each syllable he spoke rewrote something inside me, changed me on a level deeper than flesh and bone.

My vision gets blurs. Voices echo in my mind, distant but clear. Mocking, cruel. “Noah is incapable of love.” “You should be grateful if you can receive a shred of love from anyone because you are not worth anything.” “No one will ever love you.” I squeeze my eyes shut, but the words remain. They cut through me like a blade, each syllable deepening wounds that never really healed. I grip the glass so tightly I almost expect it to shatter. Maybe I want it to. Maybe that will cause me to feel a bit of relief.