Legoshi Scars Novels & Stories

Its tail swept once across the floor. Nudging a pine cone that had rolled free back to the edge of the flames. It lifted its hind leg. It scratched the old scar on its foreleg. That was from the arrow it had taken for Rex, years ago. The wound had long healed. But the scar remained. Like the burn scar on Rex's right shoulder. Like the old scar on the back of Silas's hand. Like the shackle mark on the webbing of Elias's left hand.

A squeak echoes through the silence, and as arms wrap around me, I realize the sound came from me. “I’ve got you,” Lucas says, pulling me to his chest. “No, your injuries—” “Are fine,” he interrupts. He reaches up, grabs the back of his collar, and tugs his ruined shirt over his head. “See?” I don’t want to look at the faint pink scars slice across his torso, a stark contrast to his regularly tanned skin. They’ve healed mostly, but there will always be marks to remind me that he nearly died today. Reaching for my hand, Lucas takes my hand in his and carefully runs my fingers over the marks.

"I'm mateless, Celeste." "What do you mean?" He sets his drink down, scooting off the bean bag and pushing himself closer to me. He turns his back to me, grabbing his lengthy hair and moving it away from the back of his neck. There, beneath his hairline, is a circle of scarred flesh. As he flexes his neck I could've sworn it had a goldish hue to it. There's raised flesh within the circled scar, slightly pale in color. Two inward curved lines reflect back on each other on opposite sides of the scar. Additionally, a small line lays between the reflection, outward dashes of opposite direction on either end. A slanted slash goes through the middle of the line. It looks wrong on his body, the mar

But on the only remaining patch of intact skin, there was a crescent-shaped pink scar. Lucas froze. Seven years ago, when we first got together. Werewolf hunters ambushed him with daggers coated in silver powder. Silver is highly toxic to werewolves. A second before the dagger pierced his chest, I blocked the blade with my bare hand. The silver corroded my flesh down to the bone, leaving this crescent-shaped scar that would never fully heal. Back then, Lucas held me, his hands covered in my blood, crying like a child. Every night after that, he would reverently kiss that scar.

I found myself saying, as though the half-glass of wine was filling me with a sense of newfound courage. Logan paused for a few moments, then sighed. “It actually tore up my face pretty good. I was playing out in the backyard and I guess it got off the leash. Came at me like a wild animal. Blood everywhere, and I had to get stitches. Look at this.” When he finished speaking, he pointed toward a scar above his eye. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that he had pointed it out, it was clear as day. A small, jagged line crossing through his eyebrow, causing the hair there to split.

"Put those on." I caught them before they landed on my face and started to undress, pulling on the sports gear. Alexis had dressed me up a couple of times, so I no longer felt uncomfortable undressing in her presence, despite my scars. I stood before the mirror barefoot and studied myself. A scar ran down the length of my right arm, twisting and curving, stark white against me ivory skin. The leggings covered my legs, but the sports bra left my arms, midriff and back exposed. "Aren't these a little too... revealing?", I asked.

"It’s already scabbed over, so it's safe to touch." Beneath her fingertips, she felt a thin layer of scab. "Does it still hurt?" "No, it doesn't hurt anymore," he reassured her. "I wonder if the scar will be noticeable," she murmured. On his body, the scar was like a crack on a delicate piece of artwork, and that crack was caused by her. "If you think it's ugly, I can get a scar removal treatment once the scab falls off in a few days. But I actually quite like it," Lucas said.

In the small, quiet room, as his trembling hands undid the first button of my dress. Caleb froze. My body was covered in a network of scars, old and new. There were bruises from combat training, and purple marks that spoke of the countless times Lydia's followers had ganged up on me. There were burn scars from silver weapons, silvery white tracks snaking across my ribs. There were marks from energy blasts, the eternal sigils left when a wolf's spirit is damaged. And... the claw marks he himself had left. The deep scratches were a reminder of every "punishment" he had dealt me.

The red blood slid down slowly on her face, painting it red. The white loose shirt she was wearing is also covered in dirt and because she was wearing short shorts, her legs were covered by small wounds, old and new. She was on her bare feet but she was wearing slippers a while ago. She lost the pair in her run after realizing that it was easier to run without them. "Found you." Leon said in a low and manly voice. This kind of voice can make girls go crazy, she was no exemption. She will also squeal like a hyena and will even blush because of it.