Only Scars In Heaven Novels & Stories

She sleeps nude, perfect for late-night lovemaking. Eon’s voice was a smug, lustful growl in my head. I tried to shove him down, but my own body betrayed me. My cock, which had been aching for hours, now throbbed with a renewed, desperate urgency. As I forced my gaze upward, away from the temptation of her breasts, my breath caught. There, in the soft moonlight, were the scars. Three small, circular puckers marred the smooth skin of her left shoulder. Another, larger one, rested just above the gentle curve of her stomach. And on her right hip, two thin, silvery slashes, the unmistakable legacy of a blade’s kiss. A cold, murderous fury, far more potent than my lust, surged through me.

The serum makes it so we’ll forever bear the scars of our marks to show the world that we belong to one another. I trail my fingers up his neck, his jaw. To his eyebrow, which also bears a new scar. Brock was so close to death after the fight with Xavier that his shifter healing couldn’t keep up, and he now has scars that tell the tale. This small slash through his eyebrow, a deeper scar on his right shoulder, and another on the left side of his abdomen. I saw the scar on his eyebrow once before, in a vision.

“Not just good – amazing.” “One hundred percent amazing,” Jo said solemnly. “Thought so.” Scars held out a huge hand and she took it, felt the raised skin there. Without even looking, Jo knew that he had more scars on his hands and briefly wondered what he must look like under his jeans and blue t-shirt and cut: she’d heard from Jinx that the fire had burned Scars so badly, he’d needed reconstructive skin grafting on his back and legs. “It’s a pleasure, Jo.”

The silence that fell was heavy, filled with unspoken words and emotions too raw to articulate. I lowered myself further, my lips gently touching more of her scars, one by one, inch by inch. I kissed them as if they were not symbols of a tragic past, but instead, keys to a new beginning. Each kiss was a silent vow, a promise of acceptance and unwavering support. To the unbroken skin between the scars, I bestowed gentle kisses, as if to pay homage to the strength that had enabled her to survive. To the scars themselves, my lips delivered a tender message of acceptance, acknowledging the pain they represented while also honoring the resilience they embodied.

scar curled as the kicks landed,”how about a makeover,a make over”the voices as they held her down,one of the ladies squatted before her with a piece of glass,scar trashed violently but the hands holding her was stronger,she sharp pain tore from her right ear to her cheek,she screamed as they left her not without final kicks,she screamed like a wounded bull pain blinding her senses. “It's just a dream,wake up ,it's a dream”she heard the voice anchoring her to reality,she gasped waking up she sat up immediately drenched in sweat. “Sweetheart it's just a dream” she opened her eyes to mama Rita rubbing her back to soothe her,she was enveloped in a warm hug,scar slowly softened to the warmth of

SLOWLY Scarlett opened her eyes. After three days she woke up. She was a very brave man so he overcame the stain of death. "Where am I?" She said weakly. She tries to move her whole body but she feels very pain. It was caused by the wounds she had sustained. His wounds have not healed very well. She roams her eyes inside that room. All she sees around is pure white. "Am I in heaven? Am I dead? How? I cannot help Amore anymore," she said again. Her tears dripped that she could not hold back.

She stood naked in front of him, and every instinct she had screamed at her to cover herself, to hide, to run. She didn't. His gaze moved over her like he was reading braille with his eyes. He saw the bruises that had faded to yellow-green on her knee—from a fall three weeks ago, clumsy and stupid. The sunburn line on her shoulders from a day she'd forgotten sunscreen. The soft curve of her belly she'd never learned to love. The scars. God, the scars. Eight of them. Ten. She'd lost count. He rose from the bed in one smooth motion. Standin in front of her, close enough she could smell the cedar and tobacco on his skin. His hand came up, slow, and his fingers brushed the scar on her collarbone

The Adversary Dark Prince (POV) When people notice the jagged scar on my arm, their eyes often widen with worry, and they jump to conclusions that are far from the truth. It's a common reaction, especially in a world where scars usually hint at pain or violence. But this scar tells a different story—it's not a sign of suffering; it's a symbol of something beautiful and meaningful in my life. Each curve and line of the scar represents resilience and a deep bond that has lasted through challenges, showing that not all scars are reminders of hurt. Instead, it reminds me of love and the strength I've gained along my journey.

It feels important, like this is the start of something but I have no idea what. “No, you need to leave.” I sigh and try to sound as confident as I normally feel; I know it falls flat when Gideon says nothing and just continues with lathering up his chin. When he starts to scrape off the small hairs on his chin with a razor, I realise he’s not paying me any attention. Glancing at the shower, I debate just running from the room and how far I’ll get before the rope-happy Alpha gets to me. I know it won’t be far so I turn my back on him and slowly start to undress. With each piece of clothing I remove, I visualise the scars that Gideon will see if he looks at me. I have a nasty scar up the back

"I'm on my fucking way. You'd better be laying on your fucking bed when I get there, and you better be in nothing but those black heels that I fucking love you in." "Yes, Daddy, I will be." Smiling, I quickly get undressed and sprint naked to my closet, searching for the black heels that Deacon loves. I spot them immediately, grab them, and turn around to go back to my room, but I'm stopped by my reflection in the mirror; my scars are screaming at me from my back. A wave of anxiety and panic ripples through me when I think of every fücking time I got one of the hundreds of scars on my damn back. I lean against the wall to support myself as my eyes close and my head gets fuzzy and light. Whil