Do You Want To Know How I Got These Scars Novels & Stories

“Fuck, I may die first.” Her head moved from side to side as her lips curved. “You said last night that no man has died from not ejaculating.” “It’s an untested theory.” She turned, sitting on her knees and stared down at my chest. After an agonizing, indeterminate amount of time, she lowered her hands over my pecs, running her palms over my skin. “How did you get the scars?” “Knives, mostly.” I lifted my arm and showed her a more circular scar. “That one was a bullet.”

He tilts his head slightly. “I’ve been meaning to ask about that scar. How’d you get it?” he asks. I glance down, my fingers brushing over the faint, jagged line just below my kneecap. It’s old, but still obvious against my skin. "I fell off a cliff five years ago. I was being chased by a bunch of dumb high school bullies. I tripped, rolled, scraped up my knees, and hit my head pretty bad," I say, flipping a page in my book.

Hope knows I am not a morning person, and I need to be coaxed. I flop over on my back, kick off my blanket, "I'll be right down. Leave me some coffee, or someone might die." I hear a laugh, "No worries, we already know." I hear Hope's footsteps heading down the hall. I pull myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Time to get the day started. I turn on the shower and undress. I catch a glimpse of my mate mark in the mirror. Looking at myself naked makes me cringe because that damn mark is staring back at me. It has been about a month since "The Fight," as it's called now. I have healed completely and have minimal scarring, considering the extent of my injuries. It was primarily cuts and brui

She turned around and now lay with her back to me, trying to hug herself. Once again, I felt something shocking—something that truly made me lose my voice when I saw the scars on her back. Cassandra’s pale white skin made the scars stand out clearly. A long line ran from her shoulder to her waist, and I saw several other scars there that, unfortunately… were just like the ones I have on my own back. I got those scars years ago from a kidnapping I experienced when I was 14, and I still carry them to this day. How… how could Cassandra have the same scars?

"Did we fuck you a little too hard?" I bit my lip as he kneaded the muscles. "I can take it." His hands slowed, his thumb caressing a deep blue X scar that crossed my hip. I felt a pulse of anger and sadness through our bond. The desire to know. "Ask." I folded my arms on the side of the bath, raising my ass to him a bit. He gave a scoffed laugh, sadness tightening it before he sighed, his hands moving again. "What did they use to make those scars?" I wanted to flinch at the growl, but I knew it wasn't anger at me.

How do you go four ounds without tiring out? Even I, am surprised I’m still breathing well after all the energy expended. My wolf spake, “Sex-hungry, bastard.” I allowed him do his wish and he grinned in delight. After a minutes, he was done and laid back to hear me out. “Now what is it you want to know?” He asked as he pant heavily. “Your scar. How dod you get it?” I asked again. “Quite an adventure, you see,” he started. “But contrary to what you might think, it isn't from battle or any fight. I got this from a woman,” he laughed.

not yet. I don’t always get what I want, because Cole stands at the doorway his eyes going from me to my back and then he is on me with two steps. “Where did you get this?” If I knew it, it would somehow be easier for me. “I don’t know, it just appeared, growing on my scar.” “the scar you got as a child,” he whispers as he traces it lightly with his fingers and I nod. I had to tell them something after I was bared to them all the night we consummated.

he shrugged. “I’m asking now.” “You told me that you wouldn’t ask me about my scars. That I can tell you if and when I see fit,” he looked at me, and my stomach tightened into a little ball. He pulled my hand to the little circular scars on his forearm. You could hardly see them, but I felt them, just like I did yesterday. “These are the reason. Every little scar on my body that will never heal or disappear; I got all of them from him.”

His intense gaze locked onto mine, and I could feel the weight of his question as he asked me. "How did you get those scars?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. My heart skipped a beat as memories flooded back, memories that I had long tried to bury.

"I...just didn't think it was something that needed discovering. I didn't think you were...I didn't think you would want to know. Besides, it was so long ago, so..." He suddenly walked to me, then peeled off my shirt, exposing all the scars on my stomach. He went on his knees, his lips parting as he saw them, things that didn't make sense, stuff that were just whimsical drawings burned into my skin... He traced his hands on them, a small gasp escaping his lips. It almost felt he was watching me get them. "Who did these to you?" He asked, his eyes flashing red. I swallowed. It was something I had never talked about before. Something I wished I could forget had it not been for the obvious remi