Christopher Scarver Book Novels & Stories

Who were these people? The doctor asked again. I turned my head slightly, my gaze drifting back to the man who’d first been there, the one with stormy eyes. He was leaning against the bedpost now, muscles coiled tight, as if one wrong move from anyone would set him off. He was… gorgeous. Striking, in a way that made my stomach twist. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, a scar just at the edge of his throat. And yet, even as he radiated power, there was something about the way his eyes flicked to me, like he was afraid I’d vanish if he blinked.

And so, I made my way to the seer’s quarters, hoping she might give me something, anything, to hold on to. It was late, well past midnight, but my desperation outweighed any consideration for the hour. I approached Elsa’s room, feeling the weight of my hope and dread. Just as I reached her door, a sudden sensation rippled through me—an unmistakable tingle on the side of my neck where Scarlett’s mark was etched into my skin. The mark burned softly, a faint, yearning tug, like the whisper of a long-lost love. A surge of desire washed over me, powerful and sweet, but just as I tried to grasp it, the connection faded, as though something had cut it off.

"Can’t you recognize the wife you have spent a decade with? You have no right to say her name!" Luther did not resist. He stared at the corpse and declared sharply, "How could this be her? She is a lot taller than this. She could not have possibly shrunk into such a tiny figure! "She had fair skin and was blessed with natural good looks! Look at this corpse. The skin is all cracked like dried soil. There is no way this is her. Not a chance…" My father grabbed onto him tightly and reprimanded him in a gut-wrenching voice, "You’re a firefighter! Shouldn’t you know how the human body curls inward and shrinks when they are burned? Of all people, shouldn’t you know what a charred corpse looks lik

He was proud. Time to tell them the news. Group chat: Happy campers 🐺 Me: Seb just found his mate Seb's not in the group chat — thank the Goddess. Xander and I talked about adding him after camp, but yeah, not anymore. I have a strong feeling I’ll need a safe space to scream into the void. Brant: Oh wow, who is it? Me: A girl called Rebecca Winter from our pack. Scented her the second he got out of the car.

Scar listens without interrupting, her expression unreadable. “He brought me to his pack, and things went pretty badly.” For the next hour, I tell her everything, without filters: the betrayal of my soulmate, the mockery and later acceptance from the pack members, my meeting with Amelia and the betas’ mother, my reunion with my best friend, and the reason for my escape. I even tell her about Ophelia and the eerie resemblance between them,the same surprising outlook on life. Scar listens again and again, saying nothing, her face shifting through disgust, joy, horror, sadness, and finally relief.

In that instant, I wanted to reveal her true colors to the whole world. Jason smirked smugly and reached his hand into my shirt collar. I returned my senses with a shudder. Suddenly, I kicked him hard in the groin, grabbed the thumb drive from his hands, and ran like my life depended on it! He crouched down in pain, roaring furiously at me, “You’re dead, Cheryl Summers! Let’s see how long you can stay first in the class!” When I got home, I immediately put the thumb drive into my computer.

th of December is Devlin’s birthday. So ironic that while most of the Christian world is celebrating this occasion, he is planning his escape. He planned this escape for months, he has already acquired enough funds to survive. He did not give Muckie all the money he earned by selling the things he pickpocketed. He kept majority of them. Muckie was as stupid as he’s cruel, he never bothered to count the money the boys turn over to him. Devlin doesn’t know if Tiernan kept some for himself. He waited for Muckie and Tire to be be too drunk before he made his move. Although his limbs were still too bruised and painful because of Muckie beating him the night before for not giving him anything as h

" She... She re-opened dad's case? Why? Isn't she the one who told me that I should stop fighting against that invisible enemy of us? Why would she... Do this?" I stood up even if I feel like I would fall in any moment. I accidentally passed by a mirror and saw my scar. The memories that I buried six feet under the ground starts to flash like a flood. The screams in pain, the culprit's laugh, dad's cry in pain, our maids' shouts, and my cries. God, I need to stop this again. If this kept on flashing back, I'll lost myself again. And I don't want that to happen.

Scar shrugged as if my plea amused him. “It’s not my habit to be merciful." He turned toward the door and walked out without looking back. Scar is a gangster, but Alexander is the Mafia King of Italy, Ireland, and Spain. The man had hands and connections all around the world. Scar stood no chance but he wouldn't listen. So I spat out the blood and prayed all this was over before it was time to pick the kids up. TBC Here's a sneak peek at my new book, currently ongoing in Good novel

Vera frowned and asked, “The Apocalyptic Book? I’ve never heard of it before.” “Is that so?” Charlie was somewhat disappointed and said, “I thought that the Apocalyptic Book might have been written by Master Marcius Stark…” Vera said, “My father has never mentioned the Apocalyptic Book, and I have never heard of it either. All my knowledge about Master Marcius Stark comes from what I heard from my father.” Charlie asked curiously, “You have never met Master Marcius Stark?”