Scarlot Rot Novels & Stories

I was entertainment. I moved between the tables, gathering plates with trembling hands while conversations danced around me. Their whispers followed like hungry wolves. “Look at those arms. Like tree trunks.” “Margaret said she found food hidden in her room again.” “Disgusting. No wonder she can’t shift—what wolf would want that body?” My cheeks burned, but I kept loading the tray. Glass and plate clinked against the tray, and the sound produced covered most of their comments. “Careful with those,” Marcus called from across the room where he was busy entertaining a group of unmated females. “We all remember what happened to Mother’s antique vase.”

“You can have a lot of fun taming her. We'll start at fifty thousand for her price.” I casually looked at the slave in question, studying her. My mind jolted as I caught sight of her face. Her dark hair, her soft features. Her beautiful but strained body, the pain and exhaustion on her face. Spice? Her name was not Spice. It was Marlowe. Marlowe Sage Kunetsov. I could never forget. What the fuck was she doing here? I inhaled slowly to call my racing heart. I was not supposed to be reacting this way. She was not supposed to be drawing this kind of reaction from me. At least, not anymore.

Her eyes dropped— And all the air left her lungs. Black rot spread across his abdomen and chest, wrong in a way that twisted the eye—veins branching outward in jagged, creeping lines, dark as decay. They crawled toward his heart. Up his throat. Along his neck—climbing higher. Her hand lifted, hovering just above it. “What is this…?” Violet answered instantly. It surged from her palm—bright, urgent—spilling over the corrupted flesh. The rot recoiled. Skin smoothed beneath her touch—

Although Alton acted as if he was greeting everyone, only he knew his purpose. As Alton said hello to everyone, he saw a woman selling potatoes on the side. The woman was very pretty and dressed modestly, very vibrant. She was none other than Scarlet in disguise. Scarlet had met Alton several times before, so she had to put on an act. As a customer of Treasure House, Scarlet had bought many camouflage pills. It was all thanks to them that she could change her appearance. Otherwise, people would have noticed her long ago.

At some point, Scarlett stumbles. Just a slight misstep on a root. But her palm flares with heat when she catches herself. Not gold. Blue. My stomach clenches and I grab her hand before she can hide it, her fingers still lit with cold, flickering light. The color of the Veil. The color of not-Scarlett’s fire. “Scarlett,” I say carefully, low enough that only she hears, “How long has it been doing this?” She yanks her hand back angrily. “It’s nothing.”

"You may have prepared, but have you ever actually done it yourself?" Scarlett raised her chin defiantly. "I may be young, but I'm not inexperienced. I learned some stuff while I was in Europe." Without warning, Romero's hand shot out and grabbed hold of Scarlett's right hand, pulling her towards him until their lips were almost touching. Scarlett struggled against him, but he held her firmly in place.

She stood there, frozen, letting him cling to her while her wolf snarled inside her chest. When he pulled away, his face was wet. He wiped it quickly, then turned his back to her. “Come,” he said. “I think there's something you should see. I'd be a fool to hide this from you.” He unbuttoned his shirt. Scarlet flinched instinctively, turning her face away...then stopped. Because the smell hit her. Burnt metal. Rot. Her eyes snapped back. His chest was wrong. Red pores spread across his skin like infected wounds, glowing faintly, cracking as if his flesh were being eaten from the inside out. Ash flaked from the edges, drifting to the floor.

As scarlet was sitting in front a huge mirror in her room while drying her long hairs , she was lost in the things happened today. She couldn't help but think again and again about the same scenario. Just when she was about to fold her hairs into a bun , her gaze landed on the bluish tinge in her hairs which was looking somewhat different. She looked at it quite surprised because it was bluish but some other nearby hairs had turned into a greenish glare and yet they were looking brownish golden from far.

I shook her hands off me and grabbed my dad's and Erin's hands instead. I said, "Mom, this is the last time I'll ever call you that. I'm not you. I didn't rot my brain reading those stupid romance novels! From now on, the four of us will live happily together. As for you, do yourself a favor and remove those trashy books from your phone!" Seeing that I showed no remorse, she flew into a rage. She cursed at me, saying, "I must have underestimated that vixen's methods! So what if they're married? They can still get divorced!"

I open the attachment. I am at a loss for words at with, I see. It's Amelie passed out being carried by Matt. He has slightly pulled back the collar of her shirt, showing a black and bloody scar where her Mate Mark was. This is what a Scarred One looks like. I am horrified that she had to go through that. I'm pissed Matt is holding her. I shouldn't be, but I am. I stop for a second and re-read his report. I look at the time she completed the ritual, around midnight. Her wolf was harmed in the process, and she was bleeding and injured. It was all the things Rose and Daisy said. I closed the attachment and sat back in my chair.