Painted Scars Neva Altaj Novels & Stories

Her face had iron marks, and her smile was ugly and scary, but Neve could not see that and thought she appeared pitiful. She pinched her throat and said, "Cole, you have finally came to see me." Cole frowned in disgust. If it were not for Helma and their newborn baby, he would not look at Neve at all. This woman was already dead to him. Cole lifted his foot and mercilessly stomped on her still-injured left hand. "Does Black Hawk still have information on Glacier? What has he been secretly researching at the base these years?" ——Crack. Neve heard the sound of her bone cracking.

I lift my breath, turning, as a figure takes shape out of the mist. It is her. Helen-Nora. Her hair, too, is cut short now, close to the head, and her face is gaunt, with dark circles under the eyes. She seems to have lost weight since I last saw her three days ago in a jacket slung over her shoulders, but her eyes stop me cold-untamed, desperate, full of unspoken, raw pain. She appears to be running from something, or someone, and seeing her like this balls something inside of me into a knot, leaving a hurt in my chest.

“Oh, right. Hi.” “Hi.” He extended his massive hand, and she took it cautiously. That was when she felt the scars on his hands. Even without looking, just from touching the flesh under her fingertips, she knew now that his scars weren’t from a knife, or glass, or a prison yard fight gone way wrong. These were from burns, bad burns, burns that he’d carried since childhood maybe, and her heart squeezed. In her years as a tattoo artist, she’d covered up hundreds of scars, but in some ways, the most heartbreaking ones were burns. The stories attached to them were always, always so damn painful.

“You told me once you were addicted to my face. Said it was your drug. Well… it’s gone now. Just scars. So please—go find someone whole.” “I’m so sorry, Jake…” Ariana choked out. “Sorry?” I laughed bitterly, my head shaking. “I wish sorry could fix it.” And then—something warm touched me. A hand. Small. Soft. Real. It was Liz. I knew how her hands felt. “Jake…” Her voice was soft, trembling. Her eyes were dripping with tears, but she didn’t look away. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t disgusted. She was just… there. She touched my scars like they were nothing, tracing them without being disgusted.

Tears stained his cheeks. “Yes, it’s me. Please, I know you hated my people but know that I have nothing to do with them. They tried to kill me too. I tried to save Asher and Zara but they dragged me away. They tortured me.” He held out his arm that has an ugly burned scar around it. Eve’s gazed soften.

Scar walked over to Cindy's bed,her eyes warm,you would swear she's different from the person who pushed her down,two storey building. “Cindy my friend,how are you feeling” She asked warmly, sitting beside her. Scar was pleased by the sight before her,from the cast on her neck,her left leg hung on a sling,and right hand hung on her neck. Cindy scoffed at the pretense. “I'm good ,I'm still alive,when there's life, there's hope” Cindy answered with a smile on her face. “I brought fruits for you,heard it helps the body heal fast”

He looks into the rearview mirror and asks, "Okay, ladies, where are we going first?" Jade sits forward a bit and says, "I think we will go to the day spa first..." I tense at the sound of that as no one other than Zachariah has seen or knows how bad the scars are that now pattern my skin both on my back and my abdomen, even after the healing cream Valentino's servants were using and then whatever Zachariah had his doctor or healer do they could not stop my skin from scaring. I move slightly closer to Jade and place my hand on her arm and whisper,

Are they brothers? I take them in one by one, noting the details of their faces. One of them is particularly distinct, a nasty scar running straight through his left eye. There’s no color in it, the iris clouded over and grey. My uncles Craig and Montero are covered in all kinds of scars, and I’ve watched Aunt Natalya stitch up some of the gnarliest of injuries, so I’m used to seeing these sorts of things.

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

I pull the shirt out of the way of the upper left side of his chest, and I immediately see what he wanted to hide. It’s a fresh scar, still ugly and red. It’s long and straight and red, not clean enough to be surgical. It looks a hell of a lot like someone stabbed him. His father? Neil is an Alpha werewolf. His body is enhanced to heal quickly. That this wound still looks so horrid only hints at how terrible it must have looked in the days before now. I look up into his face, ready to confront him. He stares down at me, and I pause.