Sasuke Curse Mark Neck Novels & Stories

She pressed herself against the wall, peeking through the gap. Father Zerus stood with his back to her, his cassock already on the floor, his broad shoulders bare. He was reaching for a clean shirt when she saw it—the tattoo that covered his left shoulder blade. It is a serpent, coiled around a dagger, its scales , its eyes burning with an inner fire. The dagger was stained with drops of blood, and beneath it, a single word was etched in elegant script: Sosa. Krystal's blood turned to ice. The club. The night she had been so drunk she could barely stand. The man she had walked into, the man whose hand she had grabbed, dragging him through the crowd. The man she had kissed before he had pushe

Pulled‌ h‍is s⁠hirt o‍v‌er his head. The marks covered his chest. Hi‌s ribs.⁠ His sho⁠ulders. Black lines spreading ac⁠r‍o​ss his skin like cra‌cks in glass. Some of them looked⁠ old. F‌ade​d. Others l‌ooked fresh. Raw. ​"It'‌s worse f⁠or me," Dax‌e​n said. "Beca⁠use I h​ear thoughts. Feel emotion⁠s. Th⁠e curse feeds on that. Ma‍kes it stronger."

​"Now, Aris!" ​As the doctor quickly hooked up the leads and adjusted the sensors, I stood back, my hands trembling. I stared at her neck. The Mark, that beautiful curse that had started all of this, was no longer its usual faint silver. It was pulsing. A toxic, bruised violet light emanated from her skin, casting an eerie glow across the underside of her jaw. It looked like a living thing, a parasite gorging itself on whatever was left of her spirit. Just like it did with the void.

I ordered, and they all obeyed instantly. My eyes finally settled on the two battered men on their knees with their hands tied behind their backs. "Who did it?" I questioned, breaking the eerie silence in the hall. A guard pointed to the one whose left eye was swollen, and had a fresh claw mark on his left face. The curse tugged at my heart instantly, challenging me to shift. My claws extended as anger surged through my veins. I took a step towards him and squatted. He has his gaze fixed on the ground, his breathing heavy.

"Lisa, this is my mother, Mrs. Blackwater." I will curtsy out of respect. It is a pleasure to meet you, ma'am. The pleasure is all mine, I assure you. She placed her arm on my shoulder. "May I see your neck, Lisa?" I could feel everyone's eyes on me, and it weighed considerably on my mind. I looked at Kayden and he gave his approval by nodding. I gripped the edge of my turtleneck and sighed. If Kayden believed it was okay, then it was. I pulled down my turtleneck, displaying the mark. My hand began to tremble as she stepped closer to inspect. Her hands were soft and they radiated heat against my skin, which I could feel all over my body. Her fingers ran over my mark. My neck got warm even in

He had turned a hidden threat into a new, powerful weapon. As Jack finally collapsed into an exhausted, deep sleep, Katherine, trembling with adrenaline and relief, exited the lockdown. Marcus rushed past her, his face a mask of concern. Seeing Jack safe, he let out a shuddering breath of relief. But as he turned to leave, he cried out, a sharp, choked sound, and fell to one knee, clutching his arm. His face went deathly pale. There, on his forearm, a network of black, vein-like lines was spreading from beneath his skin, an exact, though fainter, replica of the curse mark on Jack's chest.

He tilted his head eyeing me curiously like a cat cornering a mouse. I could only imagine that my now ruined Akasha costume was a wreck and god did I smell like death. My black skirt splattered on the end with shit, a medium-size splatter pattern across my stomach waist, and chest and I didn’t even want to imagine what my hair and crown looked like. I did a quick check to make sure my metal bustier had been still securely strapped in place, only to get a smear of feces on my hand. I sighed heavily in defeat I honestly haven’t the slightest idea as to how I haven’t puked yet. “So…I like your costume,” I say continuing to make small talk which at this point has made things increasingly more aw

Her hair fell in a heavy, dark sheet over shoulders wrapped in some kind of fur‑lined cloak, though no frost touched her bare throat. Her eyes… They were wrong. Colorless around the iris, the pupils too dark, too deep, like looking into a well you couldn’t see the bottom of. Her lips were a blood‑dark red, curved into a smile that didn’t reach those eyes. And at the base of her throat, half hidden by the edge of her cloak, I saw it. A mark. Faint, like a bruise whose edges had blurred. Three lines in a circle. Lucian’s curse sigil.

“I know. I know what I did. But I had to, that's why I have total control over you, I need you for my survival. You don’t understand—” “I don’t want to understand!” I snapped, my fear turning to anger. “I just want you to leave me alone!” He looked at me, his eyes sad. For a moment, I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Then I saw it. A mark on his neck, dark and angry, like a bruise or a bite. I frowned, confused. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing. He touched his neck, his fingers brushing over the mark. “It’s nothing,” he said quickly. “Just… part of the bond.”

“Yes.” I didn’t want to ruin this reunion by grabbing her and shaking her by the shoulders, asking what she remembered and how she survived the journey through the veil. I’d wondered if it had been traumatic for her, but she just gives me a soft smile, tilting her head toward the sun as she closes her eyes. A silver-white scar on her neck shimmers in the golden sunlight. Cassian’s mark.