Wrist Blades Novels & Stories

I push off the floor and go low, aiming for the space under his ribs where armor would slow a reaction. My hand closes on the blade hidden in my sleeve. The motion is clean. Familiar. I strike upward. He moves at the same time. His hand snaps around my wrist with precise timing. The blade stops inches from his body. There’s no struggle. Just sudden stillness, like hitting an invisible wall. I try to twist free. He doesn’t let me. His grip is firm, but careful. He adjusts his hold instead of tightening it, shifting my wrist so the angle won’t break anything. That detail registers even as I fight it.

The blades exuded an icy coldness that would send a shiver down an ordinary person’s spine at one glance. The five blades were so sharp that any small movement across the skin would slice through it. Moreover, there were only blades and not handles. These very dangerous items appeared to be tamed in this man’s hand such that the blades did not cut his fingers at all. One could see just how skillful he was. When he finished his sentence, he sent the five blades on his fingers flying toward the clock face opposite him all of a sudden. There was no sound other than whooshing. The five blades actually stabbed the red dot in the center of the clock face in succession.

Liam was there with me during my inner turmoil and whispered, "Take them in your hand. You can get your justice using the same weapons that they used against us." His voice was soothing. I picked up the first dagger, weighing it in my hand. The handle looked as though it was made from an aged bronze. It had what appeared to be a crown in the middle of a circle of swords. The blade was about eight inches long, straight, and double edged. I gently touched my finger to the blade. It was sharp. Real sharp. I grabbed the second blade in my left hand. It was identical to the first. I wrapped my hands around each dagger right above the hilt and turned to walk towards Liam.

I twisted my wrist, flattening the blade on her neck, the cold steel pressing directly against the frantic, leaping pulse point just beneath her jaw. Her body heat seeped into mine through our thin clothes, her rapid, shallow breaths hot against my collarbone. I didn't let go of her wrist, keeping her pinned tightly against the hard planes of my torso. I leaned my head down, my lips inches away from hers, close enough that I could see the dark ring of amber around her pupils. "Always look out for unexpected weapons," I whispered, the words brushing against her mouth. "A gun in your face is usually a distraction for the blade in the hand."

Pain shot through his ribs, and his breath broke. Adrian caught his wrist before he could force it. “Stop.” Lucas looked at the hand around his wrist. “Let go.” Adrian obeyed at once. That was worse than control. Lucas knew how to fight control. He did not know what to do with restraint. Adrian removed a small blade from inside his coat and placed it on the desk, handle toward Lucas. “Use this.” Lucas stared at the blade. “You carry knives to rescue people or hurt them?”

The impact sent him crashing to the ground of the cage. The crowd cheered crazily, screams erupted all around me. "BLADE!" "BLADE!" "BLADE!" I pulled out my custom-made blade gleamed with a savage hunger under the bright arena lights. The polished steel bore the name "Capone," etched into the metal like a proclamation of death. Its edge was as sharp as a serpent's fang. It looked eager to cut, having tasted the blood of many before. The handle, wrapped in black leather, felt like a coiled snake in my grip, ready to strike with deadly accuracy. This blade wasn't just a weapon; it was a merciless instrument of brutality, a symbol of my unrelenting power in this world.

“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 didn’t even breathe before the man pulled something from inside his jacket that looked like a blade, sharp enough that the weak chandelier glow caught the edge and threw it straight at me. “No!” Caleb shouted. Everything slowed. The scream ripped from Lucy. Derek’s body lunging forward. Adrian’s hand was crushing tighter around my waist, like he could shield me with his own bones. But the blade was already slashing toward me. Straight at the scar hidden under my glove. I couldn’t move and couldn’t scream. I couldn’t even do anything but stare as the silver edge came closer. And then… It didn’t hit. My wrist, my cursed, burning wrist, exploded in light.

The edge scraped across my palm. A sharp pain shot through my palm. Blood welled up fast, spilling over my fingers, but I didn't let go. I couldn't. I held her wrist tighter, forcing the blade away from her skin as red drops fell, one after another, hitting the ground with small, wet sounds. Her eyes went wide. Her breath stilled. She didn’t pull back or fight me. She just stared, shaken, confused, stunned that I stepped in. I yanked the blade out of her shaking fingers and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and dropped.