Breath Mints And Battle Scars Epub Novels & Stories

“If I said, ‘Be my mate, bonded for life under the moon,’ you’d run. But if I say, ‘Be the person who steals my fries and hogs the blankets and makes me question every decision I’ve ever made,’ maybe you’ll think about it.” The moonlight caught the edge of his jaw, the old scar along his cheek where a rival Beta had once caught him. The same scar I’d kissed once, impulsive and drunk on adrenaline after a battle that had almost gone very wrong. I’d pretended not to remember the next day. He hadn’t pushed.

then she laughed it was dry and bitter. Mama Rita chuckled uncomfortably,”yeah,since you are an orphan and homeless,you can stay with me” Scar looked up”I'll decline that,I come with a bag of trouble, actually a truck full” “I don't mind,I sincerely don't mind” “Hold her down,kick that bitch ,she thinks she's better than others”scar curled as the kicks landed,”how about a makeover,a make over”the voices as they held her down,one of the ladies squatted before her with a piece of glass,scar trashed violently but the hands holding her was stronger,she sharp pain tore from her right ear to her cheek,she screamed as they left her not without final kicks,she screamed like a wounded bull pain blind

I screamed, the smell of my pain and flesh as it burned, commingling the air to form a gut-wrenching fragrance. Without taking any time to think about it, I let my eyes meet my brother's. He was staring at me without a single hint of remorse, and beside him, a satisfied smirk sat on his mate's face. This was really it. There was no getting mercy. Not from my family and not from my pack. My eyes dropped closed as pain consumed me whole, and I whispered weakly. "Help me, Cassius." And just like that, darkness swept me under, my last breath floating behind me.

The sound of my ragged breathing became the only sound that kept me company. With the sky void of moon or stars, I could see nothing but black. My eyes didn’t adjust to the darkness yet. My brain felt dizzy, and I breathed through my nose, trying to regain control of my numb body. The cold breeze brushing through my face carried a sweet pungent odor that’s fresh and sharp–a scent I recognized so well. It’s the storm scent just before the rain. The wind picked up, and I had to hurry. My lungs screamed in pain with each breath. Breathing through my mouth, I lay there for another moment analyzing the extent of my injuries.

Some marked long battles, others shorter fights overlapping each other, yet each one was telling its own story. Moved by a tenderness I couldn’t explain, I leaned closer and pressed my lips gently onto one of the scars. It was an impulsive gesture born out of empathy or something deeper I wasn’t ready to understand. I repeated the motion on another scar, my kisses lingering long enough for the warmth of our connection to spark and stir within me. Feeling the tingling swell of the mate bond, I kissed the scar again before pulling back to continue tracing the lines with my fingers. Suddenly, a low, gravelly voice broke the silence. “You know, babe, the worst time to tease a man is the moment h

The presence said. Now I’m standing on a battlefield. Bodies litter the ground. The air is thick with smoke, fires burning in the distance. It's hard to breathe. I choke on the thick air. I rip a piece of my robe and tie it around my nose and mouth and walk forward. I walked past groaning men with wounds that showed their organs, bodies with missing heads or limbs. An arm reached out and grabbed my ankle, I kicked out to free myself but the grip only gotten tighter “Help me,” a raspy voice croaked

I lightly squeezed my chest as I tried to slow down my breathing. ‘Don’t panic. Take deep breaths.’ After few more seconds, breathing returned to normal. I wiped my eyes and unintentionally my fingers touched my left eye, which was exposed probably due to my squirming while sleeping. I closed my eyes feeling the scar that trailed from my eyebrow to my cheek. The scar, which still exists despite the wound’s complete healing, serves as a constant reminder of the dark past that I desperately want to put behind me, whenever I look in the mirror. Maybe that’s what he wanted.

Chapter 161: The Default Clause The sound of the orbital battleships wasn't a mechanical rumble; it was a heavy, atmospheric compression that flattened the black smoke over the Scrapper Slums until the pink and chemical-green neon signs from the lower-tier market stalls began to hum and shatter one by one. The air pressure dropped so fast my eardrums clicked, the taste of ozone behind my teeth turning into a bitter, alkaline sting that made the saliva in my mouth dry up instantly.

The way he looked at me as though I had slipped through his fingers, though I wasn’t sure I’d ever been in his hands to begin with. Was that even a fight? I wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been shouting or doors slamming. Just silence. Silence with an edge sharp enough to cut through bone. I sat up with a sigh, swinging my legs off the bed. My scars prickled under the moonlight, old marks etched into my skin like someone else’s handwriting. I reached for the jar on the nightstand,the cream Malrik had left without a word weeks ago. Scar removal. Expensive. Rare. I rubbed it carefully over my arms, my collarbone, down to my legs. Slow circles, like erasing an old story.

*Maerilee* I’m standing back on the battlefield, smoke coiling in the air. Ash clings to my skin. The scent of blood and fire invades my lungs. My boots are caked in soot. The wind carries the soft moan of a world unraveling.