Marked By Scars, Claimed By The Lycan Novels & Stories

My eyes traveled lower, to his nose, slightly parted lips, chin, and the scar on his body. His scar was terrifying—as if someone had dug a sword deep into his side, trying to dismember his whole arm. It was a battle mark, one he seemed to wear proudly. I didn’t even realize it and I was etching his features in my mind. I shook my head and crawled to the bed. As I neared him, my heart only started beating faster. He was a Lycan. There was nothing werewolfish about him. He would be brutal if he caught me stealing or trying to escape—I did not doubt it.

Their laughter overshadowed my pleas, and everything went silent again. Then— "Take her immediately!" The Alpha barked. I turned and there were three hefty men. From their scent, they were Lycans—an higher breed from regular werewolves. Obviously, they were Cassian's men from their looks and the terrifying scars on their faces. If the rumour of Cassian was true, then I was about to be marked. Not the regular werewolf marking, but the physical type where his name would be carved or scarred into my skin.

I have been clueless about a lot of things. "I can explain," she says in one breath. "But that isn't important right now. You need to understand that marking for us is sacred. It doesn't just happen to anyone, most especially the Lycans. Theirs come with precision, so if Darian marked you, even by accident, it means something.” “It doesn’t mean anything.” I feel a knot working its way to my throat. “He left me here. He walked away like I was nothing, after …. I probably am nothing. Hell, I couldn’t even keep Archer to myself.”

I prepared it. The full moon was rising. I could feel it in the blood in my hands, in the warmth that had been building since yesterday, in the particular pull of something vast and ancient and entirely aligned with what I was and what I was here to do. I had been told I was a curse since I was nine years old. I had believed it in the quiet parts of myself that were hardest to argue with. I was standing in the palace of the Lycan King six hours before an attack designed by a traitor to destroy everything in it, preparing to be the only thing that could hold what the silver-edged blades were going to break.

Glyphs of ancient bloodlines. The Head Scholar lit a rune lamp. Golden fire flickered to life, revealing more dust, centuries of it, and a crescent carved into the far wall. A perfect silver arc. My pulse stumbled. There were many marks given by Lycans — claw runes, bonding brands, protective sigils — but only one looked like that. A crescent. A lunar imprint. The mark I had carved into her flesh the night we met when I had sensed her wolf fading away. She hadn’t known what it meant then. Most didn’t. But I had known. At least… I thought I had.

I really wish I could get to know who this strange man was with all the wealth and connections he's got. The Northern Capital Pack isn't known for its accommodations or a good economy for having such a grand place to live, unless you're the Lycan king himself or a family of his. I let go of my thoughts at once the moment I saw something on my neck. At first, I thought it was a hickey until I saw a mark there. I'm gasp. No, I cannot be marked by this man. Chris will kill me if he sees it. Hurriedly, I go to the bathroom and clean myself up. Thankfully, I didn't bleed much, so I was well. When I was done, I walked quickly to the window and saw that it wasn't that far from the ground. I can jum

It was one of his many features that sent a tingling sensation down my spine. His scars didn't scare me. They drew me in. They were captivating. Always making me wonder how he got them. Ares was a powerful Lycan. Not just a powerful one, he was an ancient Lycan. Some sort of tribal Lycan as Madam Yelena had put it.

“It’s healing up. It looks like a tattooed scar.” “We want you to mark her back,” she requested. “Are you sure?” he asked. He watched instead as her eyes turned ruby once more. “I’m sure.” He’d already marked her as a Lycan, so he figured marking her vampire meant marking her in the same spot she’d marked him, which is a little further away from her Lycan mark. His canines skimmed her skin as he found the spot. She held onto him tightly as his teeth pierced her skin, a powerful orgasm ripping through her. She felt the tingles spread through her, before warmth filled her. He licked the wound close, before she brought him in for a kiss.

I nearly choked on my spit when he said that. “What?” was the only word I could muster. “I’m a Lycan… I have pathokinesis. I can feel your feelings and sometimes thoughts.” I centered myself trying to control whatever feelings I was projecting to make him pick up on that, and I took my hoodie off, holding my head high as his eyes swept over my body, my scars. Slowly, he handed me the daggers then took his shirt off revealing sweeping scars down his back and sides. Relief flooded me and he blinked hard.

It growled and I silently prayed it didn't kill me. Until I finally saw it. The Lycan it had blue reddish eyes and was very big compared to the one it just killed. This was definitely a rare breed which I have never heard of. Probably a hybrid of some sort and definitely more dangerous than the Red Lycan that was chasing me earlier. It looked at me silently as if studying me. I was nervous but made sure not to make any movement just to safe myself. And then it clicked, this was the Lycan that saved me.