Every Scar Will Build My Throne Mga Nobela at Kwento

I passed out naked, bloody, and alone but free; after ten years, I was free. I had just done the unthinkable. I completed the rejection ritual marking myself as a mate rejecter, a pariah in my community. I not only rejected my mate but my old pack. My whole identity to that point – was gone. I was now scarred, no longer marked. Now, I carry the black scar created by the silver blade, and I reject the mate made just for me by the goddess. The cursed life of a "Scarred One" is what I must look forward to now. The sense of loss was foreboding. Was what I lost the only cost for my freedom from my mate bond?

Unable to speak, I slowly nodded my head and traced his toned abs which were visible through his black fitted shirt. “Wanna feel them, skin to skin?” His lips curved up and I looked away. Skilfully, he removed his shirt and I almost forgot to breathe when his naked chest came into my view, the Greek God in human flesh was sitting next to me. He had toned abs and scarred skin, it left no to imagination. He had won many battles, ditched death multiple times because who scars looked old. My fingers traced them very delicately. “They remind me of who I am and what is expected from me. My scars are my trophy, they motivate me to learn from the past and reshape my present as I wish.” He said and g

I whisper. “Aerian, my dark princess, I do not think it is ugly at all. Every inch of you is perfect. This scar stands for everything you have gone through. I have many scars and while some are worse than others, I do not hate them. I received them protecting my pack and I wear them like a badge of honor.” he told me.

A week had passed with Scar being left in the dungeon without a decision made about killing or keeping her . With the awareness of whose child she was Damon have been taken aback with his decision. The approval of his dying father mattered so much to him . The wolves believed that whoever sat on the throne ruled their kind, but Damon had sat on this throne for three years, and it was his opinion that the throne ruled him.

His voice dripped with malice as he spoke, his words laced with a twisted sense of entitlement. "I always wanted the throne, Scarlett," he spat, his voice filled with venom. "Marcro had everything handed to him on a silver platter. The power, the respect, the good things in life. I wanted more, and now, I'm going to take it all away from him. Soon, Macro will be wiped off the surface of this earth, and I'll be the one standing triumphantly." His words echoed in my ears, a chilling proclamation of his thirst for power and vengeance. The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, threatening to suffocate me. But even as he taunted me with the possibility of joining him, my resolve remained uns

“No, my dear. I’ll rebuild it.” He began pacing. “The packs are fractured, ruled by weak Alphas who bow to human kings and corrupt councils. I will burn the old world to ashes and raise a new one from it. And you—” He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell the faint trace of smoke and iron on him. “You will ensure it continues.” My breath caught. “What?” “You are my heir, Scarlett,” he said quietly, like it was the simplest truth in the world. “When I fall, you will rise. When I conquer, you will reign. My blood runs through your veins, you cannot deny what you are meant to be.”

She shook her head in disgust, blaming herself for being so instigated. … Scarlet fell onto the soft cotton bed, enjoying the feeling of happiness that she had not had for a long time. Why so long? Since the day she sat on the Queen's throne, not a minute had passed that she could live up to her true nature. The responsibility is heavy on her shoulders, every move must be in the frame, even if you just smile, you have to smile a very standard smile, the corners of your lips are curved up to reveal eight straight teeth, eyes glittering, big and round, the smile must be imprinted in the bottom of the eyes. Sometimes she even thought that she was already dead, a slow, quiet death, loneliness gr

The Sons of Satan Territory Monday, July 4th 19:23 THE JOURNEY TO THE OTHER SIDE "In fact, there weren't many things Scar didn't hate." SCAR GROANED IN DISAPPROVAL at one of the clubs whores climbing onto his lap. Trying to get his attention, she shamelessly began showering light but sloppy kisses on his neck. He was not in the mood - not one bit. Scar was visibly tense, his lips pulled back in a tight, nasty scowl. He wished to lock himself in his room with a bottle of whisky and drink it until he passed out.

We fought for what we believed in and who we loved. “You try to insult me by insulting my scars. You are a fool. Every scar on my body we wear with pride. It shows what the hell I have survived, and I have survived evils that you could never dream about, Katie. I am a fighter, unlike you. Let me guess, you wouldn’t want to break a nail? Do you even know or understand what it takes to be a queen, Katie?” The anger seeping into my voice. “Of course I do. You take care of your King whilst he looks after the kingdom.” She smiled when she said this.

“Don’t deny it. Every scar they left on you, every time they made you feel small, every time Kael failed to protect you…..it still burns, doesn’t it?” My lips parted, but no sound came out. He leaned closer, his breath warm against my cheek. “I can help you. I can give you the strength to rise above all of them. You and I……we could tear down the throne Kael clings to. We could watch his kingdom burn and build something greater from the ashes. You don’t have to be the weak little omega they chained in shadows. You could be a queen.” My heart twisted violently.