Feels Like We Had Matching Wounds Novels & Stories

I told her, really feeling like I had just met a great friend. Then we hugged each other tightly as we both managed to recognize each other's pain and suffering. After all, we were similar to each other because we had suffered similar disappointments in life. It was as if our stories were the same, just being written in different ways so that one could perfectly understand the fears of the other. “It was really nice meeting you, Laura,” I told her.

At first, I fought against him to get free, but when he didn’t let go, I stopped and let him pull me close to him. “Baby, stop, you are hurting yourself.” He said, and I got confused until I looked at my hands and saw the wounds and blood on my knuckles from beating the ball repeatedly over and over. Wolves heal fast, so I knew it would not take long before it was normal again, but I felt terrible because I knew Logan would have felt it when I began greeting wounds. Mates don’t usually feel when you are made to get hurt, but because these were self-reflected wounds, he could, and it made me feel really bad knowing it had hurt him too.

The ground around us was scuffed and torn, proof of what we’d worked through the only way we knew how. Bloodied. Honest. And finally, together again.

"Physically, improving. Cognitively... disoriented. There are significant gaps in my recent memory that the medical team believes may be permanent." "I understand," he replied, settling into a chair near the window rather than beside her bed. "The same team that's helping you has been treating me as well." Curiosity flickered in her eyes. "Were you also affected by whatever happened at the facility? The doctors have been vague about the specifics." "Yes, though less severely." Alex watched her carefully, searching for any flicker of remembrance. "We were there together." Something—not recognition, but perhaps uncertainty—crossed her face. "That would explain why you feel..." She paused, sear

“It’ll heal in a couple of days.” Adriana’s heart felt strangely conflicted. His own hand was still wrapped in a bandage, yet here he was, using that same injured hand to take care of her. Like two wounded people clinging to a fragile warmth. She exhaled softly. “It’s like we’ve never had a peaceful moment together,” she said. “Since the day I met you, either I’ve been hurt, or you have. And now, we’re both hurting.” A bitter smile touched her lips.

And it was a constant, piercing reminder of what they might have lost. The three gardeners stood in the middle of the blooming reality, but they couldn’t enjoy it. The tremor that had passed through the Weave was not just a feeling. It was a wound. They could all feel it, a hollow ache in their chests, as if a part of their own souls had been torn away. The music of the Harmony was fainter.

Even though it was over, just the memory was enough to make my body feel flushed again. I sighed and lay back on my bed, with one arm bent over my head. I couldn't help but remember the way our bodies merged together, it was as if we were meant for each other like two pieces of a puzzle complementing each other. Somewhere within the corners of my mind, I couldn't help but wish we had met in a different situation. A world where there was no Hades, no pack alliance, and Hunter wasn't mourning the loss of a mate.

Only the raw, primal need that consumed us both. When it was over, we lay side by side, staring at the ceiling. Our bodies were slick with sweat, our breathing ragged, our minds empty. The fire crackled softly, the candles flickered, and the danger that had been so sharp moments ago was still there, lurking in the shadows. But for now, neither of us moved. We were enemies. We were mates. We were two broken people who had found something in each other that we could not explain. Something that terrified us both.

The sight of them, carefree and joyful, is a poignant reminder of what we are fighting for. Our moment of tranquility is suddenly interrupted by a sudden groan that escapes my mouth. It feels as if my mate's touch has ignited a fire within me. Not desire, but unusual pain. I remember this kind of pain. It is quite similar to the pain I experienced when I had my first shift.

Now I understand how he shares the same tragic experiences with me, albeit in a different form. He snickered at my statement and moved closer to gaze at me, “And yet here we are,” he shrugged. I smiled at the irony. No one would have ever guessed that our paths will diverge and intertwine like this. In some peculiar twist of fate, we were pulled towards one another. Both damaged, both turned into a darker version of ourselves. Carrying the heaviness with us forever. We found solace in our similarities, as fucked up as they are. It was almost comical.