Scraped Knuckles Novels & Stories

His knuckles were scraped raw. Guilt hit me like a wave. I hated that he was hurt, I hated that he had to fight for me, I hated that I wasn’t strong enough to stop any of it. I stared again at his bruised face, my throat tightening around a scream I didn’t let out. His lip was busted, blood crusted at the corner, a smear along his jaw. His knuckles looked worse—raw, angry red and swollen. I wondered if they throbbed. I wondered if he could even feel them because I could and my chest ached with every breath.

Just as in my dreams I was wet, my night shirt was soaked as if I had been standing outside during the storm. I walked into the bathroom turning the shower on to quickly rinse off. I checked the clock; 4:30 AM. I noticed my ankle was no longer in pain as I put weight on it. It was slightly bruised as if it had been weeks old. The cut on my forehead was now a light pink shade, barley a scratch.

Kael was by my side in an instant, his strong hands working quickly to untie the ropes biting into my wrists and ankles. “How did you—” “We always find a way,” he murmured, his voice steady. His fingers were gentle but urgent, freeing me from the chair as I rubbed my raw skin, heart pounding. “Are you hurt? Talk to me,” Kael asked, his eyes scanning me for injuries, his hands cupping my face to tilt it toward the light. I shook my head, but before I could answer, a guttural scream tore from Zane's throat, raw, agonized, the kind that clawed at your soul.

Check their card history, and you will be surprised how someone so rich orders takeouts and still looks fit and pimple-free face with their unhealthy habits. To keep my mind off his screams and the crushing sound of the furniture, I indulge myself in thinking about random stuff so that I don't lose my footing and my heart's pounding sound isn't the only sound I hear, which will make me lose my focus on cutting the internal pipe to enter the hole. Jumping down the kitchen aisle, I put the tools I'd borrowed from the guard earlier and head out of the kitchen to go directly to his room, avoiding stepping on the glass pieces spread over the floor.

The bruises faded, and the broken bones realigned. And just like that, his body was whole again. I smiled. Koen’s relief lasted no more than a second before I grabbed his wrist. His eyes widened as I gripped his hand, forcing his fingers to spread apart. “Let’s see how well you heal without a healer,” I mused. And then I snapped his pinky backward. The sickening crunch of bone filled the air. Koen screamed, his body jolting violently as pain wracked through him. I barely gave him time to process it before I took the next finger and ripped it away from his palm, the flesh tearing as another scream tore from his throat.

Hе grazed hіѕ hаnd аgаіnѕt my сhееk аnd thе flаѕh of rеd frоm hіѕ knuсklеѕ ԛuісklу саught mу еуе. I brоkе away аnd pulled hіѕ hand tоwаrdѕ mе. Mу eyes fell upon thе ѕіght оf hіѕ bruіѕеd, bloodied knuсklеѕ bеаrіng the signs оf defending my hоnоur. I kіѕѕеd еасh knuckle ѕоftlу, аnd he gаѕреd, his еуеѕ wаtсhіng еvеrу tеndеr movement.

I also noticed some blood on his fist and knees as if he did something no human should do. I wanted to go near him but I have no strength at all. My heart was squeezed much more when I saw tears dripping down his cheeks. I roamed to look at Ivann at the corner of my eye and noticed his eyes squinting with bruises all over his face and blood dripping on the corner of his lips. I was fully naked while Ivann was only wearing his undergarment. I sat there, dumbfounded. It feels so unreal. “Believe… me, it’s all a set up,” Ivann said.

"Your knuckles are split again..what happened?." ​Kieran glanced down at his hands, his expression remaining entirely blank as he flexed his fingers. "Nothing.." he said flatly ​"​I sat at counter, holding my mug tightly slightly annoyed.. “Ok then.” “You left this in the elevator," ​He reached for something on the stood beside him and placed my black clutch on the marble counter, between us.

I blinked, and tears burned behind them. Freckles dusted the bridge of my nose, small and faded, things I used to like before everyone else convinced me they were flaws. My skin wasn’t flawless either; faint acne scars dotted my cheeks. I touched my reflection lightly, tracing my fingers down the glass as if I could feel the warmth of another version of myself, one who wasn’t afraid to exist. “You’re beautiful,” Luna whispered in my head, her voice tender and firm. “Stop looking at yourself through their eyes.”

KILLIAN’S POV. The coffee in my ceramic mug was stone cold, but I kept my grip tight around it, letting the hard edges of the handle dig into my scarred palm. I stood on the edge of the stone balcony, my boots planted firm. Every muscle in my body felt like it had been shredded and stitched back together with hot wire. My knuckles were swollen, a deep purple color that matched the bruising along my ribs where Caspian had landed a lucky kick the day before.