Skin Of The Night Novels & Stories

When she holds up the crystal, my arm starts to tingle. “Powers of North, South, East, and West,” she repeats and it’s like someone took a hot iron from the fire and shoved it inside my veins. I scream in pain, clutching my arm. The IV lines pull but the pain of that is nothing compared to my skin which feels like literal fire. I look down, convinced I’ll see charred and burned skin. My skin is fine, but the black lines travel up my arm. Lucas, who’s next to me, sees it too.

I rummaged through the entire suitcase and picked out two outfits that were sexy enough yet not too slutty. Once satisfied with my choice of outfit, I hopped into the shower for a bath making sure to wash my greasy hair and shave off my legs. I hopped out of the shower and proceeded to get dressed. Once my hair was dry, I wore simple makeup with cherry red lipstick that was fit for the night and put on my clothes and shoes. With my small purse in hand, I headed down to the lobby to catch a cab to the club. I arrived at the club a few minutes later and after showing the bouncer some identification, I was allowed inside, and just like Brianna had promised, the whole place was packed and it was

I fіgurе іt must be hеr trаdеmаrk. Her ѕkіn is раlе and ѕісklу. Her hаіr іѕ jеt blасk. It’ѕ literally mіdnіght blасk. Shе’ѕ bone-thin so lеаthеrу аnd tіnу.

She gulped when one of the spears moved closer to her, its cold tip now touching her neck. Breathing heavily, her eyes flickered from gold to midnight-blue before settling to pea-green. The moment it did so, the artificial skin coiling on her skin turned to ashes, blue fire igniting from it, revealing a metallic skin, embossed by about thousands of minuscule diamonds, shining despite the dimly lit room. A dark, blotchy, burnt-out scar engraved itself halfway her face, starting from her left cheek, bridging to her right forehead. The blonde strands of her hair turned back to ash-gray, black strands now cradling it.

Hell, she might even bang her head into the walls until she bled, or the glass broke. “Oh, aren’t you the most pitiful thing I’ve ever seen!” A giddy voice sang from behind. Lily turned around, and she practically fell back onto her ass. The giddy voice belonged to one of the most strange looking women she’d ever seen. Her hair was chopped short, half pulled up into a knot on the top of her head. The top half of her hair was black as midnight, the bottom half as pale and white as snow. Her skin was based bronze, a warm golden glow peeking underneath. Spots and patches of violet and crimson kissed her skin. Her eyes peaked beneath black lashes, as orange as dying embers. She was breathtaking

Before long her hair was cut into a short bob that was not too sloppy, and would just have to work. As the final blob of hair fell, Janice looked at the mirror for one last look. Her reflection brought the scissors to her face and then, slowly and methodically, pushed the larger outermost blade through the skin just above her chin. With a blank expression, Janice began to cut along the line of the face until there was a solid, bloody wound running all the way from her chin to hairline. With the hand not holding the scissors, Janice worked her fingers under the flap of skin and then started to pull...

It filled her chest with a burning sensation, but it was a pain she welcomed. Hopefully, heavens would hear her prayers. Ayla walked to the window frame, from where the full moon shone brightly. “Please keep Master safe.” Then the pain changed. As if an unknown force was telling her this was something she wasn’t supposed to feel, Ayla felt her back being skinned, right where the soulmark used to be. She fell on her knees with a thud. *** Author's Note: Thank you for reading "Night-Blooming". If you like the story, please leave a review or your opinion about the character's so far. Once more, thanks for the support!

Clara It’s deep into the night when I jolt awake, my chest rising and falling with sharp, rapid breaths. Sweat clings to my skin, my heart hammering like a drumbeat in the dark. The nightmare fades in fragments, flashes of shadows, a voice I couldn't quite place, the overwhelming feeling of being chased. I sit up slowly, the bedsheet twisted around my legs, and take a moment to ground myself The soft glow of the moon filters through the curtains, casting long, pale shapes across the room.

I can't calm myself, but for the last time, I want to remind myself of that night. The night where I saw him with another woman. That woman, with an hourglass body and perfect confidence, I am too far from that. I don't have the kind of confidence that I wish I had and a kind of body like the hourglass or what so figure. My body's petite and slim, and my skin's pale. Not the ideal skin that I want, I want tan and dark skin. But I didn't know that no matter what I do in the sun, my skin is still as white as snow. Maybe it's the blood that runs through me, my mother's skin is like mine, but my color is whiter than hers. She said, my skin color is the same as her skin color when she was a young

Then, without a word, I rushed to my bathroom and had a quick bath. I stepped back out and changed into black jeans, combat boots, and a fitted black hoodie. I didn't waste much time before hurrying out of my room and out of the penthouse. I took a cab and found my way to the club. Ten minutes later, I was outside Wet Nights. The front was crowded and tense, filled with heavy-looking men in dark suits-Marcos's people. I didn't go through the front. I slipped through the back alley, used the golden card on the side entrance keypad, and entered without a sound.