Burn Like Mark On Skin Novels & Stories

Her green eyes pulled away from his perfectly smooth and tanned skin to the mark on his shoulder. He had taken off the bandage when he showered, and she could see the injured strip of flesh. It looked as though someone had taken a hot poker and slid the tip of it across his shoulder in a line about three inches long and a centimeter wide. It wasn't like most burns, as it wasn't puckered or raised. Instead, the line of light pink, burnt flesh was sunken into his skin, and the outside edges were lifted.

The marks on thier skin were familiar. Cigarette burns, circular and small, all over the victims' bare skin. He had use them like an ashtray.

Scarlett The moment my fingers brush the bark, the forest reacts. Not with a whisper or a sigh, but with a sharp blaze of heat that jumps straight up my arm like wildfire. Golden script curls and coils over my skin. My name, written in letters that glow like they’re forged from the sun itself. I jerk my hand back, eyes wide, heart hammering hard enough to drown out the sounds of the woods. The burn fades as fast as it flared, but the mark stays. Bright and impossible to ignore.

I gently lift her heavy, dark hair, piling it atop her head so I can reach the nape. The cloth falls from my hand, splashing back into the basin. There, right at the base of her skull, hidden by her hairline, is a mark. I blink, thinking it’s a bruise. A contusion from the blow she took. But it’s too defined. The lines are too sharp. I lean closer, my heart beginning to hammer a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I trace it with a trembling finger. The skin isn't raised like a scar or swollen like an injury. It’s flat. Black. Like ink that has been burned into the flesh from the inside out.

My heart clenches painfully. Slowly, I begin to forget how to breathe normally. Every breath that I take in, hurts. The mark burns on my neck, making me hiss. I wince and scratch at it in anger. The skin of my neck tears open and blood coats my fingernails but I don’t stop scratching the mark. The first layer of the skin comes off but the mark continues to burn ferociously. Tired and frustrated, I pull my bloodied hand away. My sobs grow in volume.

It was inside me. Soft. Familiar. Wrong. I stumbled back, my hand instinctively moving to my abdomen. The faint pulse of the baby fluttered beneath my palm. “No,” I whispered. “No, no, no.” “She marked you,” my wolf murmured inside. Her voice was low, guttural, heavy with unease. “That’s what the burn is.” I pulled my shirt up and looked — faint lines of gold ran across my skin, glowing dimly like threads of sunlight woven under flesh.

her voice was barely above a whisper and she looked up at them. None of them answered immediately and she gasped again. She knew then that something was wrong. “Tell me,” she said slowly. “What happened?” Mark cursed under his breath and Martins looked away again. The other two kept muttering string of curses. “There were burns from the fire. Mostly on the left side,” Mark let out a huge sigh. “It’s not..” “How bad?” She interrupted, her voice steadier now. “How bad is it? I need a mirror. I want to see.”

"The cuts were clearly from a butcher knife. As for the burns... hmm... That's where another problem comes in." "Out with it, Mark. You're testing my patience," I snapped, holding on to the last strings of restraint I had. "The burns were not from an ordinary fire. It seemed the fire carried some type of poison that is uncommon," Mark explained. "We'll have to run some few tests again." "Is she out of danger?" I questioned. "Not fully," Mark replied with an uncertain tone. "There's a high chance she'll be paralyzed for the rest of her life due to the drugs in her system. The burns can be treated with plastic surgery, that is after we're certain she can go for one."

My hair hung damp and tangled around my face. Slowly I turned my wrist under the light. The raven mark was gone. In its place was an angry red burn, the skin blistered and tender where Makayla had pressed her thumb. My chest tightened. For a moment I just stared at it. Then I reached for the small tin of salve Mel kept in the cabinet and gently rubbed a thin layer over the wound. The medicine cooled the burn immediately, dulling the worst of the sting. “That’s better,” I murmured quietly.