Nick Scratch Novels & Stories

I'm known throughout my family as the resident tattletale, and I refuse to let even the smallest offense slide. When I was three, Aunt Cassandra stole a piece of my cheesecake. That same night, I ran to Grandma's bedside and wailed as though someone had died. The next morning, Aunt Cassandra stepped out of her room with her left foot first, and Grandma beat her so badly that she ended up with a broken leg. When I was eight, my cousin, Penelope Georgiou, secretly hid her lunch money inside her shoe. I immediately tipped off my Uncle Reuben. Penelope not only received a beating, but also got searched down to her underwear and lost every last dollar. From then on, Mom established a new fam

Nick grinned slightly. “Yes! That's right.” She nodded enthusiastically. “Mr. Nick, I am a stutterbug. I won’t be angry if you call me a stutterbug.” Luna smiled broadly. Unlike before, when she had been very angry when Nick called her that. “Pfft. It's just a nickname. I won't make a big deal out of it. Be patient, Luna. Just a little longer.” She thought to herself. Nick smiled slightly. A sense of victory began to creep in slowly—subtle, dangerous, intoxicating. His posture was perfectly tense; shoulders straight, chest out, both hands in his pants pockets. It was truly the perfect posture for a thirty-five-year-old man.

Nick growls. He is rewarded with a glob of whipped cream to the face. Bryayna hates that damn nickname, but it has stuck. She can blame Gio since he is the one that started it by calling her his fire pixie. Bryayna’s bright curly red hair doesn’t help. Nor does the fact that she is 5’0 and one of the most petitest girls I have ever seen. Her porcelain skin almost blends in with the snow on the ground. Nick look offended and hilarious with whipped cream dripping down his face. He wiped off his face as he glared at Bryayna.

Or something close enough. I clung to him, eyes still covered, swallowing the lump in my throat. I kissed his shoulder, dug my nails lightly into his back. In a moment of heated rhythm, my hand gripped his nape harder than I intended, and my nail accidentally scraped across his cheek, near his eye. He hissed softly. I whispered a rushed apology, but he only chuckled under his breath, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. “It’s just a scratch,” he said. “I like when you leave marks.”

"My lungs are kind of killing me, so I need it to breathe…" "Oh, I see…" Alexa nodded, as she was kind of awkward talking about disease. "It must be hard to wear that mask, especially considering I scratched your mouth yesterday." "Does the scratch still hurt?" she asked suddenly, eyeing the faded scratch on Nicholas's lip. Nicholas could only give an awkward smile as he rubbed it. "A little. But it's okay. No need to worry…" "Oh…" "By the way—" "Anyway, what's in that paper? Is it an award certificate or something?" Alexa asked quickly, which immediately made her curse herself. Why do you sound so nosy, Alexa? What if Nicholas Alexander is uncomfortable and—

“I’ve got a pack to run as your father’s beta. I can’t afford to add teenage babysitting to the pile.” “I’m an alpha,” I snapped at him. “You would do well to remember that.” “Then act like it,” he countered, sounding bored. I pursed my lips and turned away from him. I uncapped the tube cream and applied a lavish amount of it to my knuckle. It cooled the harshness of the wound almost immediately and I welcomed the instant relief. “You know how to shoot darts?” Nathan asked. “Of course I do,” I snarled at him.

It was almost midnight at East bay. There was not a single soul in sight except for the crickets bargaining at a high pitch. A glowing figure emerged from the darkness, easily identified by anyone who knew her, as Nicky. "At least leaving those God forsaken motherfuckers is better than playing humble.” She heaved a sigh of relief. She had the habit of rubbing her neck constantly. It was an act that brought to one's notice the new heart tattoo she had got on her twenty third birthday.

They show that they are wild wolves. "Nat, Nathan?" I said, shaking. Maria squeezed my sleeve, gesturing for me to keep quiet. Without realizing it, I squeezed the scar on my arm at that time and the wound Nathan made with his poisonous scratch. Naturally, my throat dried up, and I swallowed my saliva roughly. I could feel the blood in my body burning hot, my hand tightly gripping Maria's sleeve.

To the Big DILF’s cabin? I laugh so loud I snort, fingers flying. Me: His name is Nick. And yes. Daddy’s orders. Sabrina: He’s gonna ruin you. On a bearskin rug. In front of a fireplace. While holding a whiskey. Me: You’ve been real quiet since you realized you’d be into it too. Sabrina: Bitch, I encourage it. Climb that man like a jungle gym. Leave your earrings on the mantel like a power move. Me:

Liam quickly grabbed a first aid kit from the cabinet nearby while Marcus pushed Nathaniel into a couch. “What happened, Nate? Are you okay?” Marcus asked, concerned. "It's nothing," Nathaniel muttered back, staring blankly at the wall. "The glass was thin. I just…. lost my grip. I'm fine. Don't worry." "You didn't lose your grip, you tried to turn the glass into dust," Liam countered back as he knelt down to clean the shallow cuts on Nathaniel’s palm. Thankfully, the injuries were minor and most of them were scratches and one small nick,, but the violence of the act was what worried both Liam and Marcus as they had never seen Nathaniel act this way before.