Born Without Collarbones Novels & Stories

He is taking a mental scan of my body - Crystal realized so that he never forgets what I look like naked! Crystal's skin was white and pink, like a baby's skin. Her wet hair stuck to the back of her slender neck and flowed, unruly, over her round, sexy shoulders. Under her beautiful collarbones, there were two perfect arcs, each like a peach. Her breasts are small but perky.

Besides, she needed to find a person. After regaining her memory, Tabitha thought of the man she met in the mall while she was amnesiac, Lucian. He was holding a pair of twins. At the time, she felt very familiar with those children. Most importantly, she held one of them, who weighed about seven or eight pounds, similar to a newborn. However, Lucian was holding the child vertically. Children under three months old can only be held horizontally because their cervical spine is not developed enough. There was only one possibility. Those two children were premature, which is why they were so much smaller than other children of the same age.

Her bones don’t crack or make any noise, and in seconds, she returns to being a tiny newborn. Damien changes his hold on Aderyn, cradling her with one arm while inspecting her fingers. I looked back at Dane and Willa; she had also shifted. ‘Their bones,’ Nyx whispers. ‘Their bones are more flexible when they are babies,’ I manage to mutter back, remembering what Raven had told me when I had been afraid of hurting the boys. ‘They didn’t cry like Evrin did,’ Nyx reminds me. ‘Yep,’ I pop the p.

Red liquid drops off them and they settle on the bottom of the socket. I step back and grab the mattock. I pry some stone away from the clavicle, a cracked scapula and the tops of the humerus. They were abnormally small in comparison to the skull, as though the head had grown, but the body had remained the size of a toddler’s. The bones had scratches all over them, indicating the marks of trauma. I retch and swallow the taste of vomit. “Rita?” Boris calls from the other side of the safety tape.

Calden Enid will be discharged today, and I’ve cleared my schedule just to be here. She’s been through a lot lately, and after that last coma, her body’s been too fragile to handle anything on its own. She was born without a wolf—weak, defenseless—and every doctor keeps saying how lucky she is to still be alive. Lucky, because there’s Jodie.

Her bones were so small compared to mine. Humans were so fragile. I'd never been so close to one before, with their thrusts in and out, as if they were a single being, in that they were strange and beautiful. The sweat on her skin offered her no protection from the elements, and her fingers were clawless, and she had no tail or venom to use in defense.

About three years later, she had you but you had a mysterious sickness from birth. You were born asleep. You were alive and breathing but you neither opened your eyes nor your mouth. You didn't cry at all and you didn't even move. The midwife first thought you were stillborn but she noticed you were alive and physically fine when she observed all your vitals and saw that they were in good condition, you were breathing and your heart was beating very normally.

I said. He shook his head. “Defects don’t present symmetrically like this. And look here.” He moved the cursor to her rib cage. “The rib structure is slightly thicker. And her bone marrow density is far beyond normal human range.” I stared harder. “And this…” He shifted to her skull. “There is subtle expansion at the base. It resembles neurological reinforcement. Almost as if her body is built to handle transformation-level stress.” “That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “I will say the same. I have not seen anything like this.” he replied. “How can her anatomy be so different from that of a human when she looked like a human?”

Was the the way one delivers news to a new father? My eyes drift from her figure to the glass wall, behind which I can see two small, incredibly small, pink and strange looking babies. Some of us are born with ears and tails, but my babies were so very human. Their hair thin and almost invisible, their faces scrunched up, their little bodies covered with things that looked like strange rods and probes that connected them to cold machines that monitored them.

He dabs at her forehead, thinks about wrapping the baby up, then just drops the towel and embraces his mate and their baby. “He’s perfect,” Zach murmurs. “And look,” Orsina says, pointing to a strange birthmark on the baby’s left shoulder. “What is that?” “It’s us, I think,” Orsina whispers. Clara and I lean in close, looking at what Orsina is pointing to. Sure enough, it’s in the shape of the carving, a stylized version of a part bear, part wolf creature rendered in stone. “He’s going to grow up to be something amazing,” Clara says, her eyes full of wonder and pride.