Dabi Without His Scars Novels & Stories

' 'Damn full moon, we need to go home now Davina' He stepped closer to her making her stiffen, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. He looked down to see her hip, he slowly pulled her pants down to examine her when he noticed the scarring. "How did you not heal properly? Don't you have your wolf? I can sense her." She nodded, "Yes I have my wolf, I don't know how I scarred and didn't heal, it's never happened before." He backed away from her slightly, "Shift for me"

“Who knows? Maybe this stupid girl is dabbling in sorcery!” “Umbriel, you know if your claims turn out false, you’ll face punishment too, right?” Abraham said as he lifted a goblet and drank. That’s when I noticed it. His body, barely hidden beneath his robes, was traced with dark patterns. I could have said a tattoo but it doesn't look like it. As he moved, stepping down from the dais, the torchlight caught them. Scars. Every line of his flesh carved and burned, filled with something black that shimmered like ash pressed into old wounds. My stomach tightened, those weren’t tattoos, they were marks of burn.

I asked, my heart skipping a beat. “Yes.” She turned the laptop toward me. On the screen was a photograph of a man in his late forties. He had the same dark hair and sharp jawline as Damian, but his eyes were different. Colder. Harder. There was a scar running from his left temple down to his cheekbone, a permanent reminder of some long-ago violence.

Far from the chaos of the city, it was the perfect hiding place. Dewangga was boiling water in the small kitchen when Davian dragged himself onto the terrace with the help of a wooden cane. His face was no longer fully covered, revealing permanent scars that had reshaped his features. “I need a phone,” Davian said suddenly. Dewangga turned. “For what? So Vivian can track you and send more killers?”

Gabe looked around as he waited for her to come back out. He was still stunned at her last statement. He had been in pain for the past two months with her around. He wanted her more every day. He didn’t give a damn about any scars unless they were causing her pain. He knew those were the lines that doctors had made to save her life. Those were there because she was still there. They did hold some value to him, but they weren’t repulsive. They were victories.

* The Police station smelled like urine. Zainab had scrunched up her nose ever since they arrived, the rank odour forming a cloud within the walls which she desperately wanted to leave. She was aware of the numerous pairs of eyes on her, and the veil of suspicion over them. The officer who was questioning her, Inspector David, sat across from her with an old file in his hands. He was a short man, his body a glut of muscles, his hair thinning and with a rough mustache over his lips. When he looked up at her through hooded eyelids, she avoided his gaze and chose instead to stare at his mustache.

I saw the blade arc toward his back before he did. I didn't think. I threw myself between them and took the strike. A human body against a weapon designed to kill immortals. The blade carved a wound from my shoulder to my hip. The healers said I was lucky to survive. But afterward, Damien couldn't stand to look at the scar. "Cover it up," he would snap. "I don't want to see that thing." The scar that proved I would die for him disgusted him. Could he recognize me through it now?

Underground beneath the banter something was shifting,a new power rising built from betrayal and broken pieces,men who rule the dark are watching, because a daring attack like this with so many lives lost is a bold statement. The day was blurry for Scar,she drifted in and out of consciousness, battling her demons. Ethan remained by her side, offering reassurances and comfort when she needed them, cancelling every appointment for the day. “You think you are gorgeous” “Pin her down,mark her face,let's see if she'll still be confident with scars” Scar screamed in pain as they held her down a sharp knife marking her face. “Stop it, please” She screamed. “Lisa, Lisa”

Then he stripped. God, the sight of him. Broad shoulders, defined chest, the V of his hips leading down to his thick, already hard cock. The scar from the prison stabbing had faded to a silver line across his side. A battle mark. Proof we’d survived. Damien crawled over me, careful not to put weight on my abdomen. His mouth found mine in a claiming kiss before trailing lower—neck, collarbone, breasts. He latched onto one nipple gently, tasting the milk that came too easily these days. The sensation shot straight between my legs.