King Of Scars Audiobook Novels & Stories

Not until she fell flat onto her face unable to move anymore, and even then she tried to crawl. But her desperate crawl came to a sudden stop when the mark on her neck started to burn and then itch. With the same hand she had digging in the dirt, she clawed at the skin, her deep breaths turning into painful whimpers as heat travel through her. Her own hand burnt when it touched her skin. It was like she was dipped in gasoline and then lit on fire, except nothing like that happened. It was her... She was the fire. Those were the same words the goddess said...was this what she meant? Was this why she needed this scarred alpha?

The Queen nodded in satisfaction and stepped aside, revealing a Prince who never ceases to take my breath away. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to stand erect with my chin raised proudly, then I looked into his honeysuckle eyes, and swallowed. “I, River Scarrow, reject you, Densmore Rutherford, as my mate.” Immediately I stated that I felt a different type of heat. One that felt destructive and surgical. “Do you accept?” I muttered. The entire hall went silent again as all eyes turned to Densmore. His deep sunken eyes seemed to hold conflict as his lips pressed together. I held my breath, a sliver of me wishing he’d say no but then he nodded his approval.

He held his phone and watched the video all night long. The next morning, when he looked in the mirror, he saw a man who looked like a vagrant—unshaven, haggard, and lifeless. He stared at his own reflection and muttered bitterly, "You deserve this." … On the day of my wedding, all my college classmates showed up, including Tristan. At first, I was worried he would cause trouble again. I didn't want to be disturbed by him anymore. Even with my good temper, I couldn't stand being constantly tangled up in his drama.

Scar shrugged as if my plea amused him. “It’s not my habit to be merciful." He turned toward the door and walked out without looking back. Scar is a gangster, but Alexander is the Mafia King of Italy, Ireland, and Spain. The man had hands and connections all around the world. Scar stood no chance but he wouldn't listen. So I spat out the blood and prayed all this was over before it was time to pick the kids up. TBC Here's a sneak peek at my new book, currently ongoing in Good novel

My hands shook as I tugged at the ties of my ragged dress, stripping myself nearly bare to show the scars that were carved into my skin—scars I have carried for years. Scars from Alpha Anthony and from the rest of the pack. New and old. My body shook as I revealed myself; I felt all eyes burning into me. But my eyes only remained on Alpha Anthony. “This is your idea of correction?” I asked, my voice trembling with pent-up emotions. “Look at me! Does this look like discipline or cruelty?” The grand hall fell silent. The King’s jaw tightened as he took in every mark, every wound. He noticed how thin and frail I was, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and dangerous.

They didn't love me, only seeing Natalie as family. "What are you waiting for? Do it!" Evelyn snapped at the loan sharks. "Make her pay for Natalie's suffering!" My abdomen was sliced open, the agony of them rummaging through my body overwhelming. The pain deprived me of my voice, and cold sweat poured down. The leader looked up, puzzled. "She's only got one kidney left."

Shadows are my domain. I tilted the glass to my lips, savoring the bitter edge of the wine as it coated my tongue, and watched the same liquid streak across her face, down her neck, and soak through her dress. Her scar gleamed under the flickering chandeliers, bared for all to see—her hideous little truth put on display like the cheap spectacle I’d orchestrated. “Seriously? That’s the Queen?” “What did His Highness see in her?” “She’s hideous.” “She’s a disgrace to the crown.” “Imagine waking up to that face every morning. Poor King Killian.” “She looks like something dragged from the gutter.”

Instead, he watched my every move with interest. My fingers followed the swirling lines, but then I realized that his skin wasn't entirely smooth. Scars. Most of those beautiful lines were there to cover his scars. My stomach churned, and my fingers froze. There were so many of them… He must have noticed what had caused my reaction because he grabbed my hand and kissed the back of it. “I'll tell you about each one of them if you ask.” A faint smile curved my lips. “I'd like that.” He dipped his head, claiming my lips once more. My hands drifted to his hair, savoring the feel of his strands tangling around my fingers. When our lips parted, he gave me one of his breathtaking smiles. “We should

“He won’t come for me. Just because I’m his little plaything doesn’t mean he’ll risk everything.” The scarred man stepped closer, crouching down so we were eye level. “Then let’s start with the first reason. The Kings are working on new drugs. Do you know where their factory is?” I stared at him, jaw clenched. My arms burned behind my back, and my leg was screaming. I needed time. Any distraction. “I’m thirsty,” I said flatly. “You bitch—” The scarred man moved like he was going to hit me again, but the other one grabbed his arm, stopping him.

"And Aris—or Daphne—don't wait for the next summit to show your hand. The world is much more fun when you have the right partner to explore with." I watched him walk away, the night air finally feeling clear. The thieves were in cells, the crown was back on the rightful head, and for the first time in three years, the road ahead wasn't a steep decline with broken brakes. It was wide open.