Bracelets With Engraved Quotes

I did and found words engraved into the inside of the bracelet. In the darkest hour you are my light

I reached for one, the heavy boar’s-tooth bracelets clinking together on my wrist. I saw Murtagh’s eyes on them and adjusted them so he could see the engraved silver end pieces. “Aren’t they lovely?” I said. “Jenny said they were her mother’s.” Murtagh’s eyes dropped to the bowl of parritch that Mrs. Crook had thrust unceremoniously under his nose. “They suit ye,” he mumbled.

The cake did look fantastic, though. There were photos. Shane cut into the thing, groaned at the sight of the chocolate cake beneath the vanilla frosting, but he took a piece – the King Kong piece – and ate it anyway. Michael gave him a present of a set of silver-coated throwing stars, which Shane greatly admired until Eve sharply reminded him they were not for home use, except in emergencies; Eve’s present was a t-shirt with an insulting graphic on it, of course. Claire saved her present for last. He unwrapped it and raised his eyebrows. “A book,” he said. “It’s a how-to book,” she said, “on how to kill zombies. But there’s a chapter at the end on vampires, too. Oh, and mummies, but we don’t see a whole lot of those around here.” “Useful,” he said, and started to put it aside. Then he frowned and flipped through it. There was a marker in the middle, and he pulled it out – a man’s silver bracelet. In the middle were engraved his initials. He turned it in the light, admiring it, then put it on and reached out for her hand to pull her closer. She got a kiss, a long, sweet one, and he brushed her hair back as he whispered, “I love you.” “Happy birthday,” she said. “And next time? Eat the stupid cupcake.

Hell. I swallowed hard and traced a finger along one of the cuff bracelets. The color of platinum. “My God, Lee.” I picked one of them up and felt the weight of it in my hand. Such a simple design, straight lines, gleaming metal, about four or five millimeters wide, maybe two millimeters thick. Both had the same engraving. The Property and Love of Master Kingsley. Lee’s arms appeared under mine, and he placed a tiny screwdriver of sorts next to the box. It was the key, I realized. He was collaring me—permanently. Fuck. I wasn’t gonna cry, I wasn’t gonna cry. “Wear my collar,” he whispered in my ear. “For the rest of your life.” I nodded jerkily as my throat closed up. Holy shit, this was happening. “Always, Master.” He pressed himself closer to my back and took the first cuff from me. And he used the little screwdriver, in the same material, and unlocked the tiny lock. “Have you heard of cobalt chrome before?” he asked quietly. I shook my head, unable to stop staring at the cuffs. “Long before we started marketing it as an alternative for gold in wedding rings, we’ve used it for artificial joints, implants, and prosthetics because of how our bodies accept the metal.” He attached the first cuff around my left wrist, and it snapped into place with the faintest snick. Then he used the tool to secure the locking mechanism. “You’ll wear them day and night. You’ll shower with them. They’ll weather every storm, every fight-fuck in the woods, every flame from my Kevlar flogger, and any insecurity we might face together.” I sniffled and blinked past the sting in my eyes. “They’ll always be with you.” He moved on to the second cuff. “By default, I will always be with you too. They’re not just proof of my ownership—they’re a reminder that Master is one call away. And only he has the key.” My chest seized up, and the second both cuffs were locked into place, I spun in his embrace and threw my arms around his neck. I couldn’t fucking find my words. I just felt how full my heart was, how joy surged through me, how comfort threw a giant blanket over my existence. Lee tightened his arms around me and squeezed me so hard. “They’re never coming off.” “Good,” I croaked. “I love you so much.” Stronger than titanium. Like our love.

Years later, he gave me a bracelet inscribed with words from Michael Faraday that were engraved over the physics building at UCLA: “Nothing is too wonderful to be true.