Scars By James Bay Novels & Stories

It seemed the moon goddess had decided to teach her a lesson for not being with her true love. “And it’ll remain dark and gray until you’re taken care of.” Bellamy grinned, casually peeling off his shirt as I glanced his way. I was taken aback by the sight—his torso was covered in an array of scars, each one a testament to a violent past. There were numerous tattoos and dog tags scattered across his skin, but it was the scars that truly drew attention. They looked like relics from a bygone era, as if he’d been sliced or hacked in ways reminiscent of old punishments for rebellious pack members. “Hey, everyone gets a cut!” he joked, but his expression was anything but lighthearted. “I wanna se

My heart finally started to slow down. And I couldn't help but stare at his back. James was one of those men who looked slim in clothes but were all muscle underneath. Beautiful, sculpted muscle. His shoulders, his back, the way his waist narrowed… even the lines of his neck were… perfect. And then I saw them. The scars. Old, white scars scattered across his back and side. They didn’t detract from his allure, but they added something. A story. A hint of something wild.

Silver burn scars crisscrossed the skin there—evidence of my attempts to end my suffering in the containment facility. "Did you suffer there?" he asked softly, his fingers lightly tracing the scars. The unexpected tenderness in his touch made my legs give out. I sank to the floor, my wolf whimpering as I kept my eyes fixed on the ground. "Suffering is relative," I whispered. "Inside or outside those walls... it's all different levels of the same hell." James crouched beside me, his wolf's dominance carefully controlled. "These scars," he said, gesturing to my wrists. "They can be removed with specialized pack healing treatments."

The scar is a container and a protective space where the memory can be stored and endured privately. The causes of scars remain in storage in the body and the mind, and sometimes can shape actions for a person’s entire life. That's what Beneath The Scars is going to talk about . It's going to talk about how to never give up without a fight. W A R N I N G The book contains scenes of self-harm, mentions of abuse and suicide, themes of grief and depression, and sexual content towards the first half of the book . Readers are requested to proceed with caution. Please skip if you see any scene that you may find triggering.

Scar is seated on the bed operating a laptop,she looked up to the man beside her tall and well built,his eyes deep like eyes that held many secrets and knows maybe too much. “Marcus,that works well in our favor, you'll upload the video,my health report,the scan results and everything related to my failing health on my official page when I step out,let's use their delusion against them” She scoffed reading comments under a post bashing her. “Karma,they say karma caught me,that bitch karma is scared of me” He slowly unbottoned his shirt revealing a tattoo covering his chest and stomach,an eagle holding a snake with it's claws,he got into the bathtub slowly.

"I've spent two years scheduling your life, Julian. I’ve seen your tax returns. I’ve seen your charity donations. None of it... none of it matches this." ​Julian let out a dark, mirthless chuckle. He stepped back just an inch, enough for the moonlight to catch the jagged scar running along his jawline—a mark his expensive concealer usually hid with surgical precision. "You saw the man the world wants me to be. The man who plays by the rules because he owns the people who write them. But this?" He gestured with a tattooed hand toward the distant roar of the motorcycles still idling in the yard. "This is the man who makes sure the rules don't apply to him."

She remembered being told that it wasn’t her fault. She remembered seeing a tall guy standing beside Jace’s grave, his back towards her. He was probably his younger brother whom she never had a chance to meet. She remembered everything. She looked down at the scar on her forearm, there were a few scars on her body that left marks. They reminded her of that horrible night. The one on her forehead was nearly invisible now, but the rest were the same. They didn’t hurt but the memories did, the nightmares did. Her older sister had been her support in all of this, her sister, her parents, Faith, and all her friends.

He started patting my back gently and I soon relaxed into his hold. I breathed in his scent and it sort of calmed my raging and turbulent soul. All the confusion I felt earlier began to dissipate and I leaned into his hold. "Nathan?" I called against his chest. "Yes, my Luna," he answered. "I thought getting healed from the scars on my body was going to put an end to my problems," I began. Nathan moved his hands into my hair and began to play with it by running his fingers through it. "I had no idea that the scars only changed their original position. . ." I trailed. "From my skin to my soul," I muttered. "And every day, it gets worse. . ." I went on.

James, his boss, was also here. "Boss?" Sean asked in confusion. "Sean, my boy!" James ran towards him and held his face between his hands. A shock countenance plastered all over his face upon seeing the scar and bruises. "Oh no, it must have hurt a lot. Who hurt you?" Although the scars were still there, Sean could no longer feel the pain. The magical healing light from Oswin already took it away. The only reason there were still scars on his body was that he wanted to use them as evidence to sue Anderson.

I looked at him. Someone actually noticed these small adjustments I made. I was so surprised. “Do you have an interest in herbalism and healing too, James?” I asked. “I just think herbs are beautiful, and the healing process is too,” he said. “They can make so many wounds recover again, though some never fully heal.” He was looking at a scar on my wrist, left by Dylan’s mother, Joanna. I subtly pulled my hand back. Over the next few months, James often asked me out for tea.