Hidden Wrist Blade Novels & Stories

He knelt beside the altar, drew a ceremonial claw from his sash—an old blade honed from moon-granite, passed down through our line—and pressed his hand to the stone. He sliced his palm with a smooth, practiced motion. Blood welled immediately, dark and thick.

Marco nodded and stepped back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. I stripped out of my training clothes and pulled on black jeans, a dark long-sleeved shirt, and boots with reinforced toes. Then I opened the hidden panel in the back of my closet and surveyed my collection. Blades. Always blades. I strapped a knife to my right thigh, another to my left ankle. Two more went into sheaths at the small of my back, hidden beneath my shirt. A small dagger slipped into my boot, and finally, I secured my favorite blade—a seven-inch Italian stiletto with a bone handle—to my forearm beneath a leather cuff.

I said, keeping my expression schooled, even though my heart hurt at the sight of her. Clarissa stirred at the sound of my voice but didn't lift her head. Her body trembled slightly under Zoey's touch. “She hasn’t spoken a word since I got here,” Zoey mouthed, and my heart sank. Clearly, Clarissa wasn’t processing this situation well. If I were her, I would struggle too. "I brought something," I said, reaching inside my jacket. I pulled out a small blade. It had an obsidian handle and a silver-dipped tip. Plus, it was compact enough to hide.

With the sound, the sharp blade is drawn out of its sheath, and in the deep forest with the wind bursts, it is shining with the cold blaze. Then, Mary Kinson rolled up the cuff of her right hand completely, and then took a Swiss knife and ripped it down at the joint, without blinking her eyelashes, and her movements were neat. There was a stabbing pain in the concern, and then warm blood slipped down the wrist. She pointed her palm towards the grass, and the bright red blood glowed with light. When it dripped on the grass leaves, it was absorbed instantly like magic.

she asked me. I rolled on my back, trying to alleviate the pain on my guts. It will probably take me a week the regenerate than much skin. “If only I could,” I said. She extended her right hand sharply in one smooth motion. A sword maybe two feet long swung out of nowhere and extended in her hand. In a spit second, she was armed. The blade was glistening and well cared for. I looked at the crystals on her wrists. Were they where the blade has been stored. I saw no other option. Then I looked at the other crystal on her other wrist. Two swords.

X calmly reversed his blade, so that the spine was against his forearm. He pushed his arm to the side and with a flicked his wrist. “AAAHHH” shouted the man. With in the flick of his wrist, X cut though the man’s hand and the handle of the axe. The reaction was so fast that the mans fingers and handle to the axe fell as one, while his fingers attempted to grip the axe’s handle. X did not stop there. He quickly retracted the blade, dropped his elbow and pushed up.

He gripped both my tiny wrist in his bigger hands, keeping me from further attacking him and I struggled to claw at his face. Blade held tightly to my wrist and I couldn't move my hands. I groan defeatedly and just lay there on top of his body. The jerk smiled and watched me silently. I couldn't tell if he was focused on my trembling lips or if he was looking down into my shirt. Dead silence except for the sound of our breathing passed between us and he cracked a smile still lying on the kitchen floor. I wasn't scowling at him, only staring back into his green eyes mesmerized. Blade slowly released my wrists and instead of attacking him again, I remained rather immobile as his chest continue

Janus looked at their faces and added. "What's scariest about Boss is his martial ability." Rhein and Sliver watched on as Jared gently moved his wrist. His long fingers seemingly possessed powers unimaginable as he twirled a dagger in them. The dagger looked extremely thin and was just a tad bit longer than a normal one. He raised his hand a little and the dazzling dark purple crystal inlaid on the hilt radiated a cold yet alluring glint.

She gasped, her body tense, unable to process how she had gotten here or how this moment had taken over. What the hell was happening? Her other hand clenched something sharp. The handle, wrapped in cloth, was soaked through and stained red. It was a jagged blade made of either metal or glass. The edges were biting into her palm as she pressed it against something soft. Something pulsing.

She makes a small sound against my mouth that I know no one else heard and her fingers tighten in mine. Siobhan starts the applause. ✦ ✦ ✦ The holster sits flush against my leg, inner thigh. Custom fit, thin leather, completely invisible under the train of the dress. The knife straps to my right — a $xed blade, four inches, the one I've carried since I was twenty-two, the one my father doesn't know about. Wedding appropriate, I think, straightening the train in the anteroom before we walk into the reception. For a wedding like this one, in a world like this one, absolutely wedding appropriate. Luca catches me adjusting the strap through the fabric when he comes