Characters With Scars Novels & Stories

And as she stared into his icy eyes, Scar knew that whatever it was would be a torment unlike anything she'd ever known. Stanley extended a hand to her, showing off the green tattoo on his hand and wrist that was identical to Scar's. The only difference was that parts of it were black, others an angry red. She hadn't realized that Stanley had a mark, too. Shit. That must have been how he tracked her. Scar whimpered, feeling the hot sting of tears in her eyes. She had nowhere left to run. The goblins who held her were merciless and hateful, full of lust for violence and blood.

His t-shirt was torn, bruises and cuts all over his body. Tears carelessly rolled down Elena's cheeks as she look at Luke. She screamed and cried, Luke not responding. "You would not do anything, Conor!" the woman yelled, walking towards Conor. She looked at Elena and then shook her head. "Enough." "Oh, Rose," he smirked. "Don't get into this. Just stay out of it." Oh, she was Rose. Elena immediately felt the urge to hate her. "I will not!" She yelled. "Just stop it. It's been years, Conor."

Saadiya had suffered a cut to her left arm but it wasn't anything serious, Parvina was attending to her. She looked at Omar and tried to steady her heavy breathing, he had ripped off his throbe and now left with a loose and very transparent under shirt which was no longer white but red and it perfectly outlined his very built muscles, his perspiration having soaked through them, Mariam stared at him for a while until he gave her a thumbs up and she blinked rapidly to clear her head. Focus Mariam, she told herself. He smiled at her and she smiled back but he couldn't clearly see her smile from the distance between them because of the cloth that hid her lower face so she nodded.

Amara stared back, trying to project a semblance of stillness, refusing to betray the sheer terror gripping her. ​Emiliano stared at her for a long, silent moment, his expression unreadable. He seemed to be assessing her, her fear, her presence in his bed. He slowly walked around the bed, stopping on his side. ​He reached up, pulling his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it onto a nearby chair. Amara couldn't breathe. Her gaze involuntarily dropped, taking in the powerful breadth of his chest, the taut lines of his abdomen, and the faint, intricate scars—silent trophies of a violent life—that crisscrossed his left shoulder.

’ Irving rolled his eyes at me. Everything about her is perfect. Even the scar she tried to cover. Few werewolves have scars. We heal too quickly unless the injury was from silver or laced with wolfsbane. Otherwise, scars from before our first shift will remain with us forever. And to werewolves, scars showed strength. They show that you survived. And my mate is strong and has survived so much.

As long as I was on Gil's back, my aura repelled him enough to be bearable for Gil. Drix and I were not on talking terms. Scarlette returned when I was asleep so I wasn't able to help him control his temper. Scarlette had a large scar on her arm and cheek that was struggling to heal. It looked like she was burnt with flame and then strangled with something. No one would tell me what happened so I commanded Gillian to tell me what happened. My command held superiority over Drix when it came to guard-gifted so Gil confessed.

I know she’s both thinking about the safety of the pack and my own exhaustion level. “The police are on their way to meet Scar where Channing found the dead human. And,” I say looking up to glance at the clock on my office wall, “in just about six hours, Leader Bruno will be here to talk to us and Scar’s parents about their experiences with the undead, so we can have some ideas in place for when Scarlett contacts COWS. You know she’ll want you in on that meeting, too.” That’s another great thing about Scarlett — she recognizes the value that the mate brings to the table. Zella, Asher and Lupita aren’t just the mates of myself, Bree and Jacob, granting them the titles of Beta, Gamma and Delta

Only she called him Darell, and she had given him the name saying it meant warrior in their language. “You shouldn’t have come,” Scar said, taking a step forward towards the stream where he would bathe before going to the quarters to wear new clothes, and then the dinner hall. She appeared beside him immediately, supporting him. “I’m Okay,” Scar hissed. “No you’re not. Your physical wounds might be healed, but that does not mean you are Okay,” Simi replied. She reached up and ran her fair melanin hand on the rows and rows of scars on his dark chest, uncaring about the dirt or urine on his body.

I begin conjuring my magic in preparation for the fight. I look over at our new arrivals and assess them. One of the ghouls has a medium frame with a buzz cut . The other one is probably close to six feet, short brown hair, and has a thick red scar running from his cheek to his chin. They scan the crowd and their eyes land on Kieran. “Just the man we’ve been looking for!” Scarface says as they begin strolling towards us. The patrons standing in their path quickly move before they get trampled.

The firelight dances over our faces, showing the deep feeling in our eyes. “I need you to know something, Xander,” I begin nervously, clutching a small charm that has been with me through many problems. “Every scar on my skin, every wound, it tells a story—a story of pain, loss, and sometimes, hope. But I fear that some of these scars... they might break us apart if we allow them.” Xander’s eyes soften, and he takes my hand in his. “Aria, those scars are proof of your survival. They are signs that you’ve survived pain and still stand here, stronger than ever. They don’t define you...they improve you.”