Scraped Knuckles Novels & Stories

Then it fell flat and flaccid, releasing one last dribble containing Kungen curled into a ball. Keezy stumbled and staggered towards his brother, lifted him to his feet and embraced him. The others all got up. They didn’t seem to have suffered any serious injuries, they were just covered in a lot of slime. They looked around at each other and started laughing. Keezy and Kungen came over, arms around shoulders, each supporting the other. Keezy looked the worst, his skin burned away in numerous spots and large chunks missing completely. Kungen looked practically good as new, like someone had gone over his body with a pumice stone. I noticed the knob of brass had fallen out of his shoulder leav

Gaping at the man writhing in pain with a crestfallen face, Skyla blurted out in her mind, "What the f*ck is happening?! Please Moon Goddess, save him!" Skyla's eyes went squinty on seeing the thorns digging deep into the man's upper body. Her still body sitting on the ground with legs folded beside the man slightly jumped and went out of place when Skyla felt something in her hands and overcoat. Her breath hitched in her throat when she could see the blood drops of the man staining her overcoat and hands as the thorns came down and ripped off the man's skin like sharp arrows.

But I said, "Okay." Kieran relaxed, then swept me up in his arms. My eyes caught sight of fresh scratches covering his chest—angry red marks like claw marks. He quickly pulled his shirt closed. "I fell earlier. Pretty ugly, right? Don't want to scare my Aria." I smiled sweetly. "Make sure Dr. Scarlett cleans and disinfects those properly. You don't want scars." The mention of Scarlett made something flicker in Kieran's eyes. I could practically see him remembering her claws raking down his skin, how she'd writhed beneath him like a wild cat.

Killian Gravel crunched under heavy boots as I came to. Pain radiated down my neck and spine in rhythm to my pulse. Groaning, I tried to shift my weight from my left side to my right to relieve pressure, but the SUV door abruptly opened, and a burly man with a thick beard and a set of brass knuckles on his left hand grinned down at me. “Hello, pumpkin,” he taunted. He grabbed me by the shirt and hauled me out with one massive tug. He let go, letting me land heavily on the gravel on my side.

“Garrick’s order still stands. Break the scar. Not the people. We are four. We do not clear that bowl.” I kept my eyes on the thread. It was small, but it was growing in little jumps. Not steady. Like someone feeding it. “Can you see the scrap,” I asked. Pell squinted. “Something in the cut. Thin. Pale. Not the full slab. It is enough.” Ronan’s voice stayed low. “Do not stare at it too long. That is how it gets a hook in.” “It already has a hook in,” I said. “It is in my arm.”

With a smirk playing on my lips, I decided to take a shot in the dark, figuratively speaking. "Look time no see, Piero," I remembered this fuckface. "You were the one who helped Massimo to unload smuggled the guns." He sneered at me like he was a venomous snake about to spit. "It's Pietro, you dumb fuck." I couldn't help but chuckle darkly at Piero's correction. Even Enzo seemed to be enjoying the show. I retrieved the brass knuckles from my pocket, feeling their solid weight in my hand. The knuckles were crafted from gleaming, hardened brass, reflecting a polished sheen as they glistened under the light. Their intricate design showcased a rugged elegance, boasting four individual finger ho

I lifted his hand in mine, up to my mouth, pressing a soft kiss on his fingers. The small scars on his knuckles were prominent on the rough skin, and I ran my free hand over them. I understood why Mark was so upset by seeing me hurt. Even the thought of his perfect skin being split open was causing me pain. I couldn't imagine the worry I would be feeling once I saw him post-fight. It would infuriate me to have someone inflict damage to him, to leave him in pain for the next few days. "I can't afford to have you change your mind about me. He either needs to fuck off, or I need you not to fuck with my head." Mark refused to look at me, and his hand fell limp in mine.

“You should ask him about his fantasies.” “Damn.” Scrapper mumbled, disappointed. “I told you.” Knuckles said hitting his brother’s shoulder. Rolling her eyes, she pushed all three out of her room before closing the door. “How was the pussy you got last night?” “Not bad, she’s a fairly new bunny, - oh shit!” Knuckles froze just before the top the stairs. “You asked me to rub you down last night.” “Well, who the hell rubbed you down?” Scrapper asked as his brother caught up to them on the stairs.

Breayna explains. Oh, these two are good. They are being so nice and calm. They are not showing any anger or irritation yet. That’s when I notice that both are wearing something over each of their fingers. They look like claws. What the fuck? I turn to ask Xavier and notice that Kade has joined the group. He explains that they have titanium metal claws that can slip over each finger. He says they are incredibly sharp, and the girls keep them that way.

Small, stubborn acts of binding practiced themselves through them. On a morning that felt like the inside of a bell, Ronan found a drift of kelp tangled with twigs and seed-puffs at the tideline. He lifted the snarl in both hands, shook loose the sand, and felt—for the briefest beat—a second pair of hands matching his motion. He did not look aside. He did not speak. He tucked the kelp into a hollow and packed damp sand around it the way one beds a wound.