Scorned Novels & Stories

They don’t even try to hide their scorn. Not for him. Scar kneels at the center of it all, bound in chains. His knees pressed into the cold, wet earth. His head is bowed low. And I know he’s cold too. Watching him like this, my heart splinters into fragments. I hear the elders’ thoughts, loud, vicious and unrelenting. 'Let him be executed, just like he executed Gerald. Tear his head from his body…' 'Drag him across the asphalt until he’s ripped apart the same way Gerald was…'

he glares. Ezra’s face darkens. “You think you’re better than us now? Just because the boss gives you special treatment?” Oh fuck it. It's pointless talking to them. Soren looks away, back at the mirror, and returns to what he was doing. “I don’t get special treatment.” “Bullshit. You think we don’t see it? You think we don’t see the way Mr. Scar looks at you?” Ezra snaps. Soren’s stomach twists because he hates the way Mr. Scar looks at him.

Garret’s gaze dragged over me, then halted. His nose wrinkled in disgust. "Ugh," he scoffed, his fingers brushing over the old scars marring my skin. “That’s nasty.” His lip curled, his voice dripping with disappointment. “But I suppose you’ll do.” Shame and revulsion crashed over me in waves. Tears blurred my vision. My chest heaved as I sobbed behind the gag, my entire body trembling. His hands roamed lower, grabbing at me, fondling me like I was nothing more than an object to him.

“And I regret it to this day! I hate being that friend, the one who paints her friend badly,“ Eloise says breathlessly. She screams in pain. “Don’t,” I interrupted. “Did you think I would forget? Not only did you lie to me back then, but you are lying to me now. Old habits die hard, I guess! I got up on my feet and turned to Scar, who leaned against the wall, arms folded across his broad chest. His face was a mess of scars; just like his name implied, he looked deadly and ready to deal with her. “Scar?” “Yes, ma'am!”

Everything I do, every step I take, is all in a bid to make her smile; I need her, in a way I never thought I'd need someone ; My willpower must remain intact however; Never must I waver; Not even during those brief moments when she thinks I'm not looking, and I feel the hatred pouring off her in waves; Or when she cringes as I reach for her hand before deciding it's okay to trust me; It's not her fault though; I know that, and I love her for trying to make me feel loved; But I am scarred by her resentment; The curse I can never lift. "Having fun?"

My scowl must not have been so inward as I'd thought because the reason behind 90% of my body malfunctioning raised another eyebrow at me before speaking, "You look like you're planning grave murder of all your shareholders at once. Care to involve me in this scheme of yours?" I ignored his sorry excuse of joke and instead pinned him with a pointed gaze. "You and the Scorpion seem to be pretty acquainted with each other." Even I hated the way those words sounded to my ears. Pathetic. I wouldn't be surprised if my face started looking green. I couldn't even blame it on the food yet.

' Caedance asked in my head. I was too on edge to even reply. I carefully smelled the air around me in an attempt to identify their scents. 'They're not human. Definitely wolf. But wilder.' I say to Caedance. 'Shit!' Caedance yelled in my head. 'What? What's wrong?' 'They're mercenaries.' 'What does that mean?' 'Mercenaries are rogues for hire. They have no morals and are basically like the werewolf equivalent of bounty hunters or hitman. All jobs have a price. They don't ask questions and only demand that they're paid for their work.'

she sniggered. “What’s the meaning of this, Cora?” I asked, trying hard to calm my voice. Her palm slammed against my cheek, whipping my head aside. “You dare not talk back at me!” she snarled. My palm plastered my cheek as I tried to soothe the painful hotness. “You shouldn’t forget that you are a nobody, a paltry, smelly thing. Turning eighteen and not finding your miserable mate, you are worse than a trash, lonely, filthy thing,” she scorned and strutted away. Tears rushed down my cheeks. I couldn’t meet anyone’s gaze and lowered my eyes to the floor. The tender hand of the cook came up on my shoulder and I vibrated, turning to look at her. Her eyes held a

"You underestimate me at your peril." A cruel smile played across Scar's lips, showing a maw full of razor-sharp fangs. "Is that so? Because from where I'm standing, it appears you are having second thoughts about the delightful plan we've made." His tongue slowly traced over those wicked incisors as he watched me with undisguised contempt. "Pity, I had such high hopes for you, my dear."

He pointed a hard finger at me. I scoffed. “You’d sue the granddaughter of Juliana Del Monte? You’d sue the wife of Easton Grant? I think you’ve mistaken me for a nobody Mr Alex Ross. I am Imelda Del Monte Grant and I am not to be played with!” I stood toe to toe with him, not backing down from the hard staring contest. “You’ll be hearing from me.” He snarled and shot Gabriel a cold stare before walking away angrily. “Wow.” I heard Gabriel say and I turned to him.