Scarred Emily Mcintire Novels & Stories

The spokesman said with contest, “I see why the leaders don’t want you in Dunemire anymore.” I looked at Malric’s right arm and my eyes widened. It was burnt up to his bicep, covered with blisters and blood. I had seen Malric’s blood before at snowfang mountain…but not like this, not for me. Not because of me.

Evelyn said softly. The woman tilted her head. Her eyes were bloodshot but aware. She stood—too steadily for someone who should’ve been sedated. Her feet were bare. Her hands hung loose at her sides. She approached the glass. And smiled. Not warm. Not scared. Almost curious. Evelyn stepped closer. Emily lifted one hand and placed it gently against the glass. Her palm was covered in faint scars, like needle tracks that never fully healed. Then she mouthed something. Evelyn didn’t catch it.

"You're covering the press conference today, right?" Emily looked up and her eyes narrowed a little when she heard Scarlett's words. She had heard of Scarlett before, but she didn't expect to see her here, in the middle of all the trouble. "Yes," Emily said carefully, looking around the room. "What do you want?" Scarlett leaned closer and spoke even more quietly. "Mimi Rayne is keeping something from us. She acts like she's a strong, brave woman, but within, she's falling apart. What happened with the explosion today? It's only the start. People have told me that she's been having a hard time psychologically and emotionally. Emily's eyes lit up with interest. "What kind of rumors?" "The kind

she announced. I furrowed my brows at her. I knew that I had no scars on my shoulder. I would prove her wrong. "I'll show you that I'm not your Issa because I do not have that scar!" I exclaimed and pulled the long jacket I was wearing off my shoulder so that the world would see. The crowd exclaimed and this made me actually look down at my arm. I gasped when I realised that there was a scar there. My heart skipped a beat. Queen Nineveh smiled as she approached me. "You have a burnt scar on your ankle too," she added.

For a second, I couldn’t even move. Her face… her body… it didn’t look like Emily anymore. Bruises covered her skin. The marks of whips, of fists, of pain. I could see dried blood. Her clothes were torn and dirty. I dropped to my knees beside her. My hands trembled as I touched her arm. She was cold. Too cold. I pressed my fingers to her neck, trying to find a pulse. Nothing. I placed my hand on her chest. Yet, silence. No.

And most of all — the vivid scar slashed across his throat, ugly and raw, proof of what had been taken from him… and proof he had clawed his way back from the grave. Emily’s breath caught, her tears spilling fresh as her body trembled. It was him. Rhett Maddox. Returned for vengeance. Her breath hitched, caught somewhere between a sob and a scream. Rhett. The scar across his throat was all the proof she needed, the brutal mark of the night she’d lost him. She remembered holding his hand in the hospital, screaming for him to wake up, begging the doctors not to give up. She remembered the funeral, the coffin, the way the dirt hit the lid like a drumbeat against her ribs. She remembered how her

My eyes drift shut, and sleep starts to pull me under, until I suddenly feel arms wrap around my body from behind. I almost panic, but one look at the scarred arms tells me it’s Colt. My instinct is to pull away. This feels too familiar, too close. I can feel my defenses slipping with him, and it scares me. I want to move, to put space between us, but I can’t. Because I like this feeling. “Fucking stupid interruptions," he mutters in my ear. “What happened?” I ask him. “It was my mother. She didn’t know what to do with Ezra.”

“It mattered then.” She took another step closer, her voice lowering. “You were ready to mark me,” she said. “Yes.” “That meant something to you.” “It did.” It had meant everything. Back then. Before she disappeared. Before the trust between them shattered. “And now?” she asked. Reed didn’t answer immediately. His wolf shifted restlessly inside him. Now there was Scarlett. Scarlett with her sharp tongue, stubborn pride, and haunted eyes. Scarlett who had walked away tonight without begging him to defend her.

She was swimming toward him now and B couldn’t figure out if he should be apologetic or put up his best macho facade. “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he repeated over and over as she approached. He met her at the edge of the boat, where she hoisted her dripping body up onto the deck and started dripping bright red blood on his white boat deck. She definitely didn’t have a case of butter face. Thank you, Zac Brown Band, thank you. Now if he could just manage to bandage her up and win her over, maybe he had a chance with this pleasant discovery of his.

They fought tooth and nail as if it was some type of morbid dance between two opposite forces until eventually overcoming what used to stand in front: they defeated them again…or so thought those remaining few who chose life over death. Still panting heavily amid the ruins left behind due devastation caused by Miss Bulwark (*as referred lovingly by Lovato*), both daredevils embraced at last after such intense battle; relieved - although bruised & battered (mostly mentally!)-that also no harm had come upon their little brave soul known as 'Scarlett'. One final thing remained however: The showstopper itself…. A fiery explosion occurred right then when two hearts collide during an affectionate