Place Your Hand In Mine Blink 182 Novels & Stories

she breathed, her voice a trembling. "Give me your hand." She hesitated for a split second, her gaze flickering to the belt in my grip, before she slowly extended her right hand, palm up. Her skin was ice cold and trembling. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, my grip firm, trapping her to me. "It’s going to be light tonight," I whispered a promise. I stepped away to give space. I raised the belt and brought it down across her open palm. The sound was sharp, echoing off the walls. She let out a small gasp, her fingers curling at the impact, but I didn't let go of her wrist. I watched her pupils dilate, a strange twinkle reflecting in them that didn't look like fear.

I mocked and in response he stood up and walked towards me, he grabbed my arm with his left hand, shoving me closer. “ Listen very well, Blink. I won't repeat myself. You aren't leaving here. Not now. Not ever.” He said, his dark eyes glimmered and my lips trembled. I fight back the tears threatening to roll down my cheeks. “ I'll continue to fight you.” I said my voice barely above a whisper and he smirked. “ That would be thrilling, Blink. I'm counting on it.” He said and released my arm, and I scrambled free. Taking a good three steps back. Those dark eyes of his can break someone apart.

He extended his hand, not commanding but offering. The clearing held its breath and somewhere deep inside me, something ancient answered. I placed my hand in his and the silver mark exploded.

Right at me. I don't move my hand. His eyes drop to my arm, the angle of it, the fact that my elbow is bent and my shoulder is angled inward and he is not stupid, he knows exactly where my hand is and what it's doing, and his chest rises on a slow breath and he doesn't look away. I hold eye contact and slide two fingers inside myself and my mouth falls open. He sets the skimmer down. He walks to the back door.

I said bitting my lips He blinks then nods and says, “I'm glad they do,” his warm hand leaving my skin making me sad from the loss of contact. However, it was short-lived when he stretched out his hand towards me with a small smile, “Shall we?" I beamed up at him and quickly filled my hands with his large ones ******

Lance whispered, calming my nerves with just his words. “Okay.” I exhaled and squared my shoulders before raising my hand, as Lance raised his, facing my hand palm side up. The music began to play then and the entire room fell silent, allowing me to focus only on Lance’s topaz eyes that burned bright with love, only for me.

I lower my lashes. Hide the triumphant glitter in my eyes. Let them talk. Let them judge. Let Cyrus think he still has any claim. Because the only hand I feel is the one currently crushing mine beneath the table in silent, desperate promise. And that hand belongs to the only man who matters.

And for reasons I didn’t entirely understand, Ihated that image. Without thinking I offered my hand. Her eyes widened. “Rael.” “It’s only a dance.” The corner of her mouth twitched. “That’s a lie.” Fair. A complete lie and we both knew it. The space between us felt charged now. One wrong move away from becoming something neither of us was ready for. Yet neither of us looked away. Neither moved. Neither retreated. And slowly, very slowly, she placed her hand in mine. The moment her fingers touched mine, the pendant at her throat flashed once giving off faint silver pulse that was gone almost instantly. But not before we both saw it, not before both of us felt it. Something watching and approv

He lets go of my hand as I walk over to stand in front of Fredrick. I hesitantly lift my hand and slide it on his cheek. He lets out a low vibrating growl, which actually doesn't scare me this time, as he leans into my hand. I feel the sparks travel from my hand up my arm and know by looking at his relaxed face; that he feels them, too. I apply a little pressure to my hand and whisper, "Look at me, please."

I whisper, in case someone is stationed outside the bedroom door and can hear us. He blinks four times, and I frown, uncertain what four blinks in succession mean. As I rise onto my knees, I take his hand in mine and feel a gasp escape my lips when his fingers gently wrap around mine in return. I look up at him, allowing my gaze to carefully examine his features, ensuring that the memory of his face is firmly etched in my mind. I find myself unable to resist the urge to gently sweep away the hair from his eyes, treating him with the utmost care as I finger-comb the stray strands back into place. The corners of his eyes crinkle as if he were smiling back at me, and for the first time since ar