Her Gifted Hands Novels & Stories

I couldn't believe my luck. "I guess the ring comes with the same bargain." She replied teasingly. "What should a guy do after this?" I asked her. I couldn't contain my happiness. My thought process had turned numb by now. She took my hand and handed me the ring and opened her palms in front of me. I was mesmerized by the beauty of her thin, fair hands with beautiful slender fingers crowning her long nails with an innocent baby pink shade of cutex. I can hold these hands forever. They'll be mine now.

She sighed at her situation pitifully. She looked at her hands which were filled with mehndi. Seeing her mehndi dried, she decided to wash it off. After washing it off she realized this mehndi was pretty nice on her hands, she wondered if her life would be this pretty as her hands. She searched for the name of the groom in her hands. But she could only find the letter R as for the rest she didn't understand what was written on her hands.

"Am afraid you'll set Lijie ablaze." Cadeau smiled and respond with a thank and then added "you've finally stretched that curly hair for me." "..and I have no words to describe how you look right now." Remice slowly charged in with the bowl of garlands as if Cadeau's beauty would break with the garlands. "You really take after Rani," "I appreciate Remice," she told her. "Ohh and before I forget I polished your violin and gave it to Guerrier he has packed everything."

He was dangerous, and so was I. He folded his sleeves up, squaring his shoulders. He had a full sleeve of tattoos on both hands. I did as he said and opened the mini heirloom chest that sat on the desk. What I saw left me in shock. A severed hand covered in blood. I felt nauseous. Immediately, I shut the chest. He cleared his throat. “That, was the gift I received this evening.” Why did he show me that? How was I connected to his ‘gift’. “Guess who it was from?” He asked like I was supposed to know.

My eyes were on his hands, his hands that trembled, his hands that were holding the gifts out to me. I swallowed again, readying myself for what was about to happen when I touched him. I tried to push down the giant swarm of wasps that had formed in my stomach as I reached my equally shaky hands towards his, and as I took the gifts from his hands, I brushed my fingertips against his.

There is so much pain and sorrow on her beautiful face, I need to take it away from her. “Teddy, has anyone else touched you while you have held Jenni’s hand?” I ask. “Honestly Alpha, I am sorry, but I don’t remember.” I get it, his world is in that bed, If it was Rose I would be the same. I decided to try this out for myself. “Teddy, I am going to touch your shoulder while you are holding her hand. I want to see if you can transfer this to me as well.” “Yes Alpha.” I walk around to stand behind him as he grasps my daughter’s hand. I look at my little girl, so beautiful even in her current state, anger wells in me at the situation at hand. I understand that the gift works in different ways d

The dinner table fell into a dead silence. “Sweetheart, come with me.” Mom led me to the backyard and pushed open the storage room door. In the corner were more than a dozen neatly stacked cases of the exact same whisky. Some were damp and moldy, others were covered in cobwebs. These were all the New Year’s gifts I had my husband, Kevin Zane, buy over the past three years. “W-What is this?” My voice came out dry. My throat was tight.

She chuckles, “All the more impressive when you remember he had no hands.” Ash blinks, and nods, “He had fancy prosthetics that could move just as well as real hands, just by thinking hard enough about what you wanted them to do. He got really good with them after a year or so. Before that he’d had clunky ones that had to do one key at a time. The Guild really does look after its people.” He smirks, “He must have been great in bed with fast fingers like that.” She looks away for a moment, then sighs.

He knew where it ended. He looked down at his hands. Broad and gold-skinned, every line of them sculpted by divine intent. Instruments of purpose. Except right now they didn't feel like instruments. They felt like his hands, like something he'd been given without being asked, and maybe it was time he decided what to do with them himself.

One of Marcus's letters had reached her—the network that Wren had started building from the family document, the quiet reaching-out to scattered Ashford descendants who might want to know they were not entirely alone. Dara had written back two lines: I have always known something was different about my hands. I would like to understand what. She was stronger than either Pei or Sollus. Not dramatically—the gift was not a quantity that announced itself in dramatic ways—but there was a quality to it, a depth. Fifty-two years of a woman who had been managing something in herself without knowing what it was, who had been careful with her hands without understanding why, who had healed minor injur