Feels Like We Had Matching Wounds Novels & Stories

Alpha Biansky had ignited a flame within us, one that would burn relentlessly until justice was served. The scent of ash and blood mingled in the dusk air as I stood beside Jason, our gazes locked on the sea of weary faces before us. Our pack, once unbreakable, now bore the scars of a brutal assault. Each wounded warrior mirrored our own pain-an open wound in the fabric of our unity.

I could still feel it twisting, bruising, even if my heart was already shattered. “How can I possibly have three mates at the same time?” I whispered in disbelief. The one with darker eyes answered first. His voice was deep. “We don’t know.” The second, the green-eyed one who had nearly caught me, stepped forward. There was something softer in his tone. “But we’ve always felt you. For years. As if a part of us was… missing. We dreamed of you. And when we saw you today, when we touched you… we knew.”

There was only the morning light, the soft echo of shared laughter, the burn of want in their veins, and the undeniable truth humming through the bond that pulsed between them like a living thing. They had been broken. Now they were healing. Together.

No one else could feel it, nobody could see it but us, and still it outshone the moon. You’re part of me! I’m part of you! You’re mine – I’m yours – Our wolves danced and sang together in the internal infinity of our bond. We are mates! Mates. It had all happened in a matter of seconds. The echo of Michaela’s plea still hung in the air: save our son. I felt everything that Michaela did, and knew she felt the same of me. We were more united than we had ever been. Together, I told her, or she told me. It was all the same.

“Because I felt something the moment I caught your scent. I knew you.” “You knew my parents, not me.” He shakes his head. “No, not only that. We carry the same scars. They aren’t the kind you see. But you feel it too, don’t you?” I do. I feel the heat, how my pulse reacts to him, and that odd pull. He leans in. “We have the same mark on our soul.” I shiver, because he is right.

It was a dance of vulnerability, each step bringing us closer to healing or pushing us further apart. Through tear-stained eyes and quivering voices, we dug deep into the depths of our souls. We bared our scars, exposed the wounds that had yet to fully heal. It was a painful process, but it was necessary for our growth, both individually and as a couple. Slowly, as the days passed, the wounds began to mend. We found solace in each other's arms, in the whispered promises of love and forgiveness. It was a delicate dance, one that required patience, understanding, and an unwavering belief in the power of second chances.

Reaching out with my fingers, I touched his skin and watched him inhale sharply, then tense up. “I'm sorry, I was curious…does it still hurt? Mine does when I stretch,” I said softly. “Yeah, mine too,” he replied roughly as my fingers explored each puckered welt. A strong connection of camaraderie flowed throughout my body as shivers crept up my spine causing my own scars to twitch.

she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. I nodded, feeling a sense of solidarity with her. "Yes," I said. "I know how it feels to be hurt and betrayed. But I also know how it feels to fight back and win." My opponent smiled, a small, sad smile. "Thank you," she said. "That means a lot to me." As we parted ways, I couldn't help but feel a sense of connection with my opponent. We had both been through similar experiences, and we had both come out stronger on the other side.

The pain pulsed once… twice… then eased slightly, leaving behind a dull throb that felt achingly familiar. Somewhere down the hall, Damien was hurting too. That realization terrified me. I pressed my forehead against Mira’s shoulder, forcing myself to breathe slowly. “Why does it feel like this?” I whispered. “Why does his pain feel like mine?” Mira didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “But whatever it is, it’s bigger than either of you.” I nodded weakly. Minutes passed before my breathing finally steadied. The tears slowed, leaving me exhausted and hollow. Mira helped me onto the bed, sitting beside me as I wiped my face with trembling hands.

It wouldn't be easy, but we were determined to face the challenges together, to emerge stronger than ever before. As we walked hand in hand, our steps aligned, I couldn't help but feel the weight of our shared history and the magnitude of the journey ahead. It was a delicate dance, balancing the pain of the past with the hope of a brighter future. We spoke softly, opening our hearts to one another, acknowledging our mistakes and vowing to learn from them.