Hidden Wrist Blade Novels & Stories

He did not stop there, he tied his wrist to the leg of the table, making sure he cannot move his left hand away. I spark a light from my lighter and burn the sharp tip of the blade. “What are you doing? Please… please.” “No need to beg, since you want to bleed, let me help you bleed until the last drop is drained out of your body.” I dig the blade into the inner side of his wrist, aiming at his ulnar arteries and then I slice it swiftly, purposely avoiding his tendon. He begins to bleed immediately and a bucket is placed under his hand to collect his dripping blood.

The blade catches my forearm instead of my back, but it still burns, the silver edge, biting deep, I grab the man’s wrist before he can pull away, twisting and snapping it cleanly as he drops I straighten, breath steady, six down, six still moving Caden is to my left, handling two at once, the way he always fights, no wasted motion, while the others push the flank back toward the tree line We’re winning, we’re about to be... The pain hits before the sound ever does. Not from the front, or from the men still standing. From behind. Something cold and exact drives between my ribs on the left, angled upward. I look down. The hilt of a blade, silver, my own pack’s design.

Like the moment before a held breath finally releases. Kael lowered his blade slowly. The silver edge still glowed, responding to something beyond the threshold. He could feel it pulling at him, not aggressively, but insistently. Like a hand reaching out in the dark. "Don't move," Aion warned. "I'm not moving." "Your blade is." Kael looked down. The silver sword was trembling in his grip. Not violently. Almost gently. As if it recognized something on the other side. Rhydian stepped closer, golden blade drawn. "Mine too."

The swords are bronze, beneath their silver skins. I’m barely two feet from the line, and I give away one of them stepping back from Black’s slash. The howling around us becomes a gasp as his blade is motionless in the moment before he starts the backswing, and I reach out, and grab it with my bare hand.

After he said that, he suddenly unsheathed a short sword and ruthlessly swung it toward his right hand. With a flash of the blade, he chopped his right palm off the wrist. Everyone was shocked when they saw this.

“What is it?” “A blade. I bought it for you a while back. “It has a hidden GPS tracker and the metal part is a retractable blade. I should have given you a lot sooner. I can teach you a few tricks with it later if you're interested,” “I'd love that,” He placed the cuff on my wrist and then turned my arm to clip it in place. My pulse fluttered when his thumb brushed my knuckles, chin, and lips. This time I leaned forward and kissed him deep and slow.

I pressed against her back and moved her hand to one of my favorite blades. “This is a Poshland RAM-21. The spiral blade is painful because of the spiral wound it creates and definitely makes it much bloodier. They struggle to heal, and if they do somehow manage to heal, they will be left with serious damage from the muscles and nerves,” I said softly into her ear. Brynn tilted her head, carefully running her thumb along the dull part of the blade. She grabbed it and placed it on the table beside us. Then I moved her hand to another one. There was something incredibly hot about this right here, and I was certain that she could feel my rising lust just like I was feeling hers.

Then, before the pain from a shattered wrist could register, his hand went numb and the knife slipped from his grip. Hunter dropped the few remaining rocks from his palm and went to retrieve one of the knives thrown at him. He ran his thumb over the razor-sharp edge. He could feel it shearing through the calloused fringe of his thumb. Not deep enough to draw blood. Not deep enough to inflict pain. But deep enough to reveal the precise purpose and careful workmanship of a true craftsman.

“I prefer a double bladed sward.” “I know. Vincent told me. That is why I bought you this.” Ethan grabbed a box that I didn’t realize was even there. Pulling out the most beautiful set of blades I had ever seen. They each had a tri-angled blade with three prongs at the base. Once twisted together, they made up one long double-bladed sward. Each handle was custom to fit my smaller hand, but he had it engraved. “Luna Grace…” Etched into the blades in delicate script, I was blown away.

she hissed, clutching her broken hand to her chest, her face contorted in pain and surprise. Her other hand flashed, revealing a wicked-looking weapon strapped to her wrist three razor-sharp blades extending from a metal casing. She held her injured hand protectively, clearly intending to rely on the bladed weapon. I lunged forward, grabbing her arm as she swung, the blades tearing through the air inches from my face. I yanked her closer, my grip tightening on her elbow, and with another sharp, sickening twist, I broke her other arm and before she could even scream, I brought my hand up, grabbing the bladed weapon, and with a brutal efficiency that left no room for error, I plunged it deep