Stars And Scars Novels & Stories

But beneath the apocalyptic fireworks, three hundred silver shooting stars pierced the atmosphere. The Star-Forged Lycans hit the permafrost. Their kinetic dampeners whined as they absorbed the terminal velocity of a sub-orbital drop, leaving deep, smoking craters in the ice. They rose one by one, their armor scorched but intact, howling their survival to the burning sky. Scarlett stood at the edge of the Bio-Dome’s protective shield, her heart hammering against her ribs so hard it ached. Her amber eyes frantically scanned the falling debris. The Stellar Navigator was a fried hunk of metal in her pocket, and her spiritual reserves were completely drained.

She watched as he frowned at the button , his chiseled face was like a sculpture, he had thick and roughly carved brows she felt like running her hands on them. He had a well carved beards which had evidence of not been shaved for a while, they where prickly but also tickled wherever his face brushed her arm. The lock of hair that had been on his forehead head was now brushing his eyes, Ann had the strongest urge to brush it from his eyes and indeed they did feel marvelously silky. Oh on! She had touched it, and now he was looking at her. But this time not only did he look frustrated, there was something else, it wasn't there before and it reminded her of the day at the library.

“Maya... it says we've been in this hospital for ninety days. It says the 'Star-Baby' was just the name for something wrong with your brain.” The Fake World Maya’s heart thumped faster. She stared at Julian’s hand. He still had that red, star-shaped scar, vivid against his skin. “Then why do you have that scar?” she said, pointing. “Did a car accident give you a perfect star? Did we dream the exact same thing?” Julian looked at his hand, then at the nurse. The air felt thick, almost suffocating. The nurse stopped smiling, walked to the door, and locked it with a quiet click.

My eyes fly open in shock, skirting away to look anywhere but at Maverick’s now exposed body. His glorious, sculpted body with a stellar pack of abs and scars. I sneak another peek when I registers I saw scars. Werewolves rarely scar, especially with the help of herbs and our expedited healing. But I was right. Maverick’s torso is covered in a variety of scars in all shapes and sizes. He has a huge bite mark on his side, a thin pink line from right above his left nipple down to his navel. He looks like he fell into a wood chipper and was pieced back together.

I hurriedly went to him and asked "Doctor h-how is she?" My voice cracked "She is completely fine. She hit her head with something which caused her to faint and open up the old scar that was on her head. Which caused the bleeding" The doctor said "Old scar?" I asked confused "Yes, the area where she got hit was already cut before. But yes her foot is injured and she will have difficulty walking for a month or two. Rather than that she is fine. She has not woke up yet and it will take her time"

I was Gavin Whitestone’s treasure for ten years. Then he abandoned me for another woman three times, and I finally saw the truth. I didn't love him anymore. I have three scars. Each one is named Gavin Whitestone. The first is just below my ribs, from a shootout two years ago. Sofia Bianchi ran out of a corner and took a bullet for Gavin. It hit her arm. Gavin sent every doctor in the city to her side, while I was left in a dark corner, pressing my hand to my stomach to keep myself from bleeding out from a piece of shrapnel.

『.*+ •ᴄʜᴀᴘ. ᴛʜɪʀᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ+ •*.』 THE RED AURA AROUND SCARLETT'S SKIN LESSENED INTO A FAINT STRAWBERRY GLOW.

That's when I noticed the mark. It was old, faded, but unmistakable. A burn scar, perfectly shaped like a star, just below the bend of his elbow. The skin around it was puckered and pale, like it had healed badly a long time ago. I stared at it too long. Lucas noticed. He released my arm and stepped back, pulling his sleeve down. "Again," he said. "Try the wrist lock." I didn't move. "Lucas, what's that scar?" His expression flickered—just for a second, too fast to read. Then it was gone, replaced by that calm, unreadable mask he wore so well. "An old injury. Nothing important."

My skin, luminous and as pale as the moon. His fingers skim my collarbone, leaving a flutter of sparks as he moves my hair to hang down my back. I see it. two black puncture scars with beautiful and intricate black vines, with flowers and what looks like ivy leaves. It trails from the punctures down my side and over my new and improved curves. It weaves around my leg like a snake and stops on my foot.

Still hers. She trailed her fingertips his arm, as the morning light danced over the bruises and healing wounds as if trying to make sense of the pain etched into his skin. Battle scars. Every one of them earned in the fight to get Sophie back. The war might have been over, but peace hadn't yet settled down in her heart. Grayson stirred beside her. "You ever going to stop watching me sleep like a serial killer?" She smiled faintly. "Probably not." He cracked one eye open. "Creepy and sexy. That's very on-brand for you."