Painted Scars By Neva Altaj Novels & Stories

"Rozralas, believe me when I say I am not hiding anything from you. You are my half, you complete me so why would I hide anything from you. We are in this together. The powers from the bloody moon on the Equinox day is all I need and with it I could use it to take my hideous scars away." Rozralas sighs as Nevera brings up his scars. She has told him countless times that he was perfect just for her. "Stop calling yourself that, you're perfect for me." She reminded him, kissing the other side of his scars briefly to smile at him. Nevera smiled back and kissed her possessively on her lips, pulling her in, as he sank/ disappeared from the bed. Soon, the bed was empty and so was the room.

Patrick nodded to his Boss and turned his smiling mien to the lady wrapped only with a bath towel, unsure if she was wearing anything or none at all beneath the soft fabric of a snow-white towel. “Well, with your complexion, I suggest we create colorful flowers to cover the scars since they seemed to be rounded in shape and smaller than a penny. They would like wild and lonely but would also represent how survivors they can be to exist in places they were not expected to be.” Patrick continued to explain. But Mavie blurted.

The kind that happens when something enters a room that nobody was prepared for. I go still. I don’t look at anyone. I stare at the wall directly in front of me and I breathe, slowly, through my nose, and I feel the air on my back and I know exactly what they can see and I don’t move a single muscle. The scars don’t lie. They never have. They’re not the clean, faded kind that can be explained away as childhood accidents or a medical procedure. They’re the kind that have a story, and the story is ugly, and every woman in this room is currently reading it whether they want to or not.

Then, we can talk. ******* Two days later, a package arrives. It’s big, wrapped in brown paper, with my name written in Nila’s messy handwriting. I put it on my desk, trace the letters with my finger, and rip the paper open. It’s a painting. A naked woman kneels in a field of ruins and ashes, her back arched, arms lifted slightly toward the stormy sky. Her black hair blows in the wind, partly covering her face. A long black spear is stuck in her chest, and red paint drips down her body. A vulture sits on the end of the spear, waiting.

Maize was proud of herself for not reacting to the scars covering just about every inch of her friend. Even so, just like the night she first saw them, Maize couldn’t help but notice how graceful and delicate the scars were. She knew now that it was Misty’s mom, known for being amongst the finest artists in the territory, who made a point of turning the scars into something beautiful. Almost like tattoos, they flowed across her body like a beautiful painting. Thankfully Ayla was put to sleep while the work was done. What would’ve otherwise been a collection of horror, was instead very pleasing to the eye once the initial shock and revulsion was overcome. “Ayla, just lay there and relax for a

Now I am a threat to her. “No, I want to leave it,” I said, laying back down. “Are you sure?” he said. “Yes, how did you do that, by the way? I thought she could do it because she was a witch,” I said. “Well, demons hate having scars or any beautification on their body because it makes them feel unattractive, so we have the power to clear the scars that bother us,” he said. No wonder Alma is so full of herself. The first day I met her, I low key admired her skin. She has such clear and gorgeous skin and I thought she was beautiful, but obviously she is very rotten to the core.

She was upset about being hit over the back of the head. Nueva sighed; she wanted to agree with Eira because she was upset too. But glancing at his beautiful sleeping face looking innocent and boyish, her heart didn't want to listen to her brain. The dark stubble on his relaxed jawline looked thicker, and Nueva caught herself thinking about how it would feel to have it tickle her most private parts. Under one of his eyebrows, she could see a pale scar stretching down past his eyelid. She hadn't noticed it before now. Alpha Gray's short dark hair was perfectly styled even in his sleep, and Nueva instinctively tried tangling her fingers through her bird nest-like hair and sighed- if only she w

And now that we had seen the scars that covered her body, it was obvious that Lena had plenty of reasons to be fearful of Alphas. I mean, although she had never come out and said it, but seeing those scars she had, well, it explained her fear the day we had told her our father wanted to meet her. I would be willing to bet that an Alpha had given her those scars. I got to work doing Lena’s makeup, and I watched in amazement as I set about enhancing Lena’s features, without making her look like a call girl or a floozy. Lena had a natural elegance about her, and her features didn’t take much to enhance and make her natural good looks shine through.

He gently pulled my hand away, revealing my scar to him. “Don’t hide yourself from me.” “I wasn’t sure if you’d be turned off by the sight of my scar, it looks disgusting, Alder .” My mate laughed, a rough sound deep in his throat. He gripped my waist, eyes hungry and possessive. “You look like a goddess, Cassie. Your scar doesn’t make you any less desirable for me. Or do you find my scars repulsive? I have plenty of them, from the surgery that almost took my life, from trainings, so many of them.”

They would heal up; she had already been used to them anyway. With blood dripping from her open wounds and falling down on the strewn shards she noted that some glass pieces looked like rubies and grinning at her creation she picked up a particularly bigger piece leaving behind her previous weapon now that she had found a better one. Frolicking to the couch she stood up on it, staring at the painting of Alastor. She stretched out her hand to the further corner that she could reach and grinning she scratched right through the top and carved a cross on his face.