Breath Mints And Battle Scars Epub Novels & Stories

The silence that follows is so dense it seems to swallow the air, as if the world has held its breath. She lunges, her hand darts to my throat, her fingers tighten with the brutality of a vise, and in her gesture lies the will to extinguish me, to reduce me to a strangled breath, but I let my neck bend, just enough, I let her believe in my fall, in my weakness, and it is then, in this suspended moment, that I bite, that my teeth sink in, that her flesh gives way like a barrier too taut, and her scream bursts forth, hoarse, guttural, almost inhuman, as the blood spurts, warm and metallic, a bitter and burning taste flooding my mouth which I immediately spit out, staining my lips with a scarle

Something cracks, and the the light is everywhere, filling every fissure in the dead frozen ground I’m only vaguely aware of people shouting and wolves howling, then the battle noise cuts out like a candle pinched between two fingers… There is nothing but ringing silence, the cold ground against my back, and the bruised sky overhead. I try to sit up. My arms don't work. I try again and fail. My chest is hollow and burns as hot as the light it released. The simple act of drawing breath feels like I’m inhaling razorblades. The white fades from my vision and I blink at the sky.

I removed my hand from the base of his shaft before pushing my head all the way down, taking him deep into the back of my throat. His arm froze on my head not allowing me to move. I thrusted my tongue massaging him as I did my best to fight his hold. His opposite arm grabbed my thigh squeezing it as if his life depended on it. The flames dancing along my skin and inside my throat caused me to moan with my mouth full. He released a growl like the one in the woods. I tasted the precum filling my mouth around his shaft. I was quick to swallow enjoying the bliss. “I can’t stop it.” Was all he said before I felt his essence hit the back of my throat dripping sweetly into my body filling my mouth.

He pauses, his small face lifting, his bright eyes locking onto mine. And then, he smiles. A little wave. He sees me. “I love you, Zachy,” I whisper. He must hear me as the little smile that splits his chubby face is full of love and happiness. He turns back to his book, content. The wind tugs at me, carrying me higher, beyond the packhouse. I float over the battlefield. Bodies are strewn like fallen leaves; the scent of blood thick in the air. The fighting rages, fierce and unrelenting.

“Sorry about your friend. She tries too hard, doesn’t she? All that makeup. Honestly, you’re way prettier without all the effort. You look real. Natural. Want to be my girlfriend instead?” I stared at him, disgust knotting in my gut. My fingers clenched around the glass of water in front of me. Cold condensation kissed my skin, grounding me. “How dare you talk to her like that?” I began, ready to unleash fire. But then… I smelled it again. Mint. Cold. Clean. Electric. Like winter air over ice, sharp enough to sting your lungs. The scent curled around me like invisible silk. My breath caught. My vision blurred.

Seraphina’s POV The battle was over. The smell was so awful with stench smell of blood, smoke and sweat, all of it mixed together until it felt like it burned my lungs. The ground was covered in bodies and for a second l felt a sudden grip in my heart. But then it all went flat. I just felt nothing just the silence was worse than the fight. “But none of it mattered anymore. None of it could touch me now, not in this quiet after everything.”

I said, referring to the tiny sac, “you’d be amazed what it can do to your mind.” Luther’s brother had introduced what he referred to as the ‘calming snow’ to me on one of our frequent erotic nights in my bedroom. He said he sniffed a chunk of it before going into the battlefield. It was like a mind-eraser, something to calm the nerves and at first, I had been hesitant, but he hadn’t been wrong about it. I always had a spare sac for the nights that thoughts of Alruin and Malric would torment me, for the nights the loss of my first mate would wreck through my mind. I wasn’t proud of such a cowardly resolve, but it worked and that was all that mattered.

With a resolve that was as unwavering as the scar on my face, I made a split-second decision that would alter the course of the battle. The fabric of my shirt slid off my shoulders, revealing the scars that crisscrossed my body a visual testament to the trials I had faced, the battles I had fought, and the strength that had been forged in the crucible of adversity. The arena was now privy to a raw vulnerability, a glimpse into the past that had shaped me into the person I was today.

He doesn’t recoil, instead he watches the motion of my fingers. “You didn’t have a good life either, did you?” I whisper. There’s a pause for a few seconds. “My pack was taken over by another many years ago. And as a child, I was beaten into submission. Only recently was I able to escape, and that’s why I’ve settled here.” “I see. Scars…we all have scars that tell a story, our struggles and what we overcame. Battle scars.” I whisper. “I’ve seen yours,” he says.

Esmeralda closed her eyes, breathing in the scent of him—leather, woodsmoke, and something that just smelled like home. "We make them see by showing them we aren't afraid," he said. "And I’m not afraid, Esme. Not as long as I can turn my head and see you standing there." She pulled back just enough to look at his face. She reached up, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. He had a small scar there, a reminder of a life spent in battle.